Skin Deep

by Pamela Sparkman

  “Yes, dear, what’s her name?” Ms. Sophie repeated, still gazing at the baby cuddled in her arms.

  Lily and Cooper stole a glance at one another and Lily said, “Go on. Tell her.”

  “Sophie,” Cooper said. “We named her Sophie.”

  Ms. Sophie’s eyes drifted up until they landed on Cooper’s. Her eyes then slid to Lily’s. There was a silent moment while understanding registered on Ms. Sophie’s face. She nodded. “That’s…that’s…” She nodded once more and let her gaze fall to the infant in her arms. “Sophie,” she said softly. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She kissed baby Sophie’s head. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Then she started chuckling. “Cooper, do you remember the song I used to sing to you when you were little?” Cooper arched his brow and then he started chuckling right along with her. “I started singing it to you one day because you were crying and no one could make you stop, so I scooped you up and started singing the first thing that popped into my head. After that, I sang it to you all the time, until you got too big for me to sing to you.”

  “What song was it, Grams?” Lily asked.

  Rather than simply telling us, Ms. Sophie started singing the lyrics to ‘Crimson and Clover’ by Tommy James and the Shondells.

  “Holy shit!” Joe said. Everyone shot him a look, a gentle reminder that there was a baby and a child in the room. “Sorry,” he said, looking apologetic. “You sound really good, Ms. Sophie. Keep going.”

  She sang the entire song to baby Sophie and when it came time for the chorus everyone sang along, even Annie, who picked it up quickly.

  Life for all of us was pretty close to perfect.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Hayden

  I guess this was the part where everything took a nosedive. The part when the universe reminded us that shit happens and there was nothing we could do about it. We tried to make sense out of the senseless and accept the unacceptable. This was the part that changed everything. Like it or not, we’re not always given notice of these things in order to prepare.

  The day started off like any other. It was sunny, and if we were to go back and look for clues or a sign of what was to come, we wouldn’t have found it in Mother Nature. It was a beautiful day and baby Sophie was exactly one month old so Cooper and Lily wanted everyone over for a mini celebration later that afternoon.

  While we were there, Ms. Sophie had an “incident” as she called it. She had been having a lively conversation with Cooper and gushing over baby Sophie when her face froze mid-sentence and she stopped talking. Even though the incident passed quickly, Cooper insisted he drive her to the doctor.

  Tests were run and her doctor called for an ambulance. Her heart rate was too low. Once in the Emergency Room more tests were run and she was admitted. Shortly after, she was transferred to her own room. She requested some items from home and Beth and I went by to pick up the things she had asked for: a book, her journal, a letter she kept in her bedside table, and put the items in a bag.

  We were all there. Cooper, Lily and the baby, Joe, Maggie, Beth, Molly, Annie, and me. Annie brought a puzzle and Ms. Sophie helped her put it together. I noted the amount of times Ms. Sophie told us how much she loved everyone. She left no one out. I didn’t give myself permission to dwell too much on all the affection she was giving out, and as a matter of fact, there was a brief moment where I felt like the “incident” was behind us and Ms. Sophie would be back to her energetic self. But like I said, the moment was brief, because after the last puzzle piece was in place, Ms. Sophie’s eyes rolled back, her mouth opened, and an unrecognizable sound came from her throat.

  Alarms went off, nurses ran in, and we were ushered out. We found ourselves once again sitting in the waiting room. When we finally got news, it wasn’t what we wanted to hear.

  Cooper had jumped to his feet when the doctor approached us, hope etched across his face. With a look from the doctor, Cooper’s hope evaporated like vapor, and something far beyond sadness took its place. We knew. Cooper sat back down without uttering a word and put his head in his hands.

  “Her heart stopped and it took a while to revive it,” Doctor Rosen said. “Because of that I’m almost certain there is no brain activity. She can’t breathe on her own, so we have her on a ventilator. Sadly, there’s a good chance her heart will stop again during the night.” The doctor put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Machines were keeping her alive.

  Just like that.

  We were allowed to go back into her room. It felt like we were holding a vigil, waiting for her life to be over. I guess maybe it already was, although none of us were ready to accept it.

  Cooper pulled up a chair beside his grandmother and held her hand. For long moments no one said anything. I guess everyone, in their own way, was wrestling with the reality that Ms. Sophie was leaving us. Lily nestled baby Sophie with quiet tears. Joe and Maggie stood in the corner holding each other with Maggie’s face buried in the crook of Joe’s neck. Molly held Annie in her lap, and I stood with my arms wrapped around Beth’s waist while she hid her face from everyone in the room.

  “Lily,” Cooper said, “did I ever tell you about the time I went to visit Grams right after we started dating? I had dropped you off and wasn’t ready to go home yet, so when I left your house, I drove straight over to Grams’ house.” He wiped his eyes. “She was sitting in the dark, staring out the window, humming her and Grandpa’s favorite song.” Lily held their sleeping baby and listened to her husband while he talked. “She’s been missing him for so long,” he said, voice cracking like ice. “I think she’s ready to go.” He brought Ms. Sophie’s hand up to his cheek. “I don’t want her to go. I’m not ready, Lily. I don’t know how to let her go.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to grab the universe by the throat and demand it give us back our Ms. Sophie. When I looked at her face, there was still color in her cheeks, her heart was softly beating. She was still here with us…wasn’t she? I pulled up the chair opposite Cooper and reached for Ms. Sophie’s other hand. It was cool, and I immediately tried warming it. Cooper searched inside the bag Beth and I had packed for her, brought out the book, opened it to the place she had dog-eared, and began reading to her. After a few minutes her hand jerked away from Cooper’s and we called for the nurse. We thought perhaps she was in pain. Or maybe she was trying to communicate with us. The nurse did some tests on her feet, trying to produce a reaction. There was none. Involuntary hand movement, she told us.

  That seemed so wrong, because Ms. Sophie did everything with a purpose. Involuntary?

  It was all suddenly becoming too much, too loud. Shoes squeaked on the floor that was much too shiny, the too bright artificial lighting hummed overhead, and the machines that were keeping Ms. Sophie alive beeped and whirred all around us. It was all… too damn much.

  Squeak, beep, whirr, hum.

  Squeak

  Beep

  Whir

  Hum

  I was losing my grip. With the incessant noise, I couldn’t grieve properly, or think. I felt strangled. Everything about this place was suffocating.

  I gritted my teeth and clamped my jaw to the point it ached. Maybe I didn’t know how to grieve, or perhaps I was fighting it. Perhaps I thought it was my job to hold it together so Cooper could fall apart? Or did I think because I was a man I wasn’t supposed to hurt this damn much? Was I being too fucking weak?

  It wasn’t until I heard Annie’s cries that I felt like I could breathe. Here we all were, the big adults in the room, trying to be sad without falling apart, until Annie showed us how to grieve. She had crawled up in my lap so she could reach Ms. Sophie. She held her face and kissed her cheek.

  “I’m going to m-miss you,” she whispered. She let herself cry with no reservations. It was tragic. It was soulful, and yet, it was reassuring to hear her emotions.

  The squeaky shoes were less irritating, the humming lights less frustrating, and the machi
nes that monitored and aided Ms. Sophie less obtrusive.

  I followed Annie’s lead and allowed myself to sob while I held Ms. Sophie’s hand. It felt right to hold her hand. Because that’s what we do. We read to people whose brains are no longer active. We try to warm cold hands that can no longer feel warmth, and we look for signs of life in the smallest movements. That’s what we do when we are faced with the realty of saying goodbye. We cling, we hold on, we tumble, we break, and we do irrational things that somehow seem rational.

  When the moment happened, nothing else mattered. Ms. Sophie was at the center of everyone gathered around her bed. The heart monitor beeped with each heartbeat, the beats becoming slower and slower in between. When her heart finally stopped, the machine let us know by the long, continuous sound it made until the nurse came in to shut it off.

  Nobody moved.

  I don’t know what I was waiting for. I don’t know what any of us was waiting for. There was no dramatic exit. She went quietly…no fuss...no long farewells. She left this world the same way she lived her life…with grace. She was putting together a puzzle one minute, and in the next she wasn’t. If I think about it, it seems appropriate that this was the moment she left us... really left us. She had the last puzzle piece in place. What was there left to do?

  Still, we sat with her for over an hour after she passed away. Cooper stroked her hair. I still held her hand. Joe sat by himself with his head cradled in his hands, shoulders quietly trembling. The girls were huddled together mostly, holding each other’s hand, Annie staying close to her mother.

  After some time, Cooper wiped his face and reached for his baby girl. Kissing her on the cheek, he began to sing softly…Crimson and clover…”

  We all joined in and sang the chorus together, in a melancholy, quiet way. It was tragic. It was soulful, and once again, the emotion was reassuring. Because we found a way to say goodbye.

  Ms. Sophie would have loved it.

  Hayden

  Cooper walked to the front and stood at the podium. His hands were set firmly in his pockets, and he had yet to look up. It was clear by anyone’s observation that he was heartbroken. Cooper, the guy who wore confidence like a sweater, the guy, who only days ago, was shining so brightly you almost needed sunglasses to be around him.

  This Cooper looked like his entire world had imploded, leaving an aura of devastation around him.

  I hated seeing him this way. Looking around me, however, I realized we were all wearing the same battle scars. We all looked like we had tried to scotch tape together our brokenness. We limped and hobbled alongside one another, barely taking steps in any one direction. Ms. Sophie had been our mentor, our guide, and without her, we were simply lost.

  Cooper’s shoulders elevated and then lowered as he took a breath, preparing himself for the words that he would eventually have to speak.

  “My grandmother must have known that I wouldn’t be able to do this, write a eulogy for her. In her infinite wisdom, she wrote this letter, and asked that I read it.”

  The letter Cooper held in his hands was the same one Beth and I had pulled out of Ms. Sophie’s bedside table. Cooper had informed us of that earlier. I guess she knew she was going to die.

  Cooper’s voice was amazingly calm and I wondered where he was getting his strength. I hadn’t been able to even say her name these last couple of days without falling apart. Another trait I admired about him.

  Cooper began to read…

  Well this sucks. I believe that’s the correct verbiage for something like this, wouldn’t you say? Because if you are hearing these words then that means I died. I’m sorry that Cooper is reading this and I’m sorry I’m not there to comfort you. But if we’re honest with ourselves we knew this would happen. Everyone dies. It’s simply a part of life.

  I lost my son and daughter-n-law in a boating accident. Cooper also lost his parents when that happened. I later lost my husband, the greatest love of my life. And as I’m writing this I’m struck by how odd it is when we use the word “lost” when we speak of death.

  Lost.

  Sounds so ominous, doesn’t it? I looked up the word in the dictionary and sure enough one of the definitions says… “destroyed or ruined.”

  Yeah, I suppose I was destroyed when the ones I loved died. Perhaps even ruined. But here’s the thing about ruins…they can be rebuilt, resurrected. Sometimes in the wake of destruction we find pieces left behind. Pieces that can be salvaged. Other pieces have to be found in the midst of someone else’s destruction. Those are sometimes the best ones because they are the least expected. It’s exciting because it’s like finding a treasure chest full of everything you’ve lost. Everything just sort of fits and the rebuilding begins.

  That’s what you all were to me. Pieces that I needed in my life in order to rebuild again. The new me wasn’t the same as the old me, and that’s okay. Sometimes being destroyed gives us the opportunity to create something even better than what was. I like to think I built something stronger…something wiser in the wake of my loss. I couldn’t have done that without all of you.

  I suppose that’s why I pushed when pushing needed to happen, why I spoke when things needed to be said, why I schemed behind your backs (you weren’t onto me were you?) in order to put those unexpected treasures in your paths.

  Anyway, I guess I’ve babbled on enough. I’m sure there’s food somewhere that needs to be eaten and a baby that needs to be tended to, and lives that need to be lived. I just didn’t want my funeral to be all about me. I wanted it to be about all of you, too, because that’s how I lived my life. I certainly didn’t see any reason to change anything in death. You all were my heartbeat when I didn’t think my heart could ever beat again.

  I owe you all so much and I hope I was able to change your lives for the better. I certainly tried.

  With that being said, go live your lives, my children.

  Go live. Rebuild. Resurrect.

  I love you all, my dears.

  Until we meet again.

  Oh Beth, I almost forgot. Did you read that book I gave you for Christmas last year? I hope it served its purpose well for you. If you don’t mind, would you give it to Cooper for me? I’m sure he would like to read it. After all, it’s the story of how his grandfather and I fell in love.

  Bet you didn’t see that one coming did you, dear?

  All my Love,

  Ms. Sophie Louise McCormick Hudson

  Cooper folded the letter and slipped it inside his coat pocket. For a moment, he said nothing, just stood, motionless, head bowed. Then he looked up, wiped his eyes, faced his grandmother’s casket and said, “Thank you for loving me, Grams. Thank you for loving us all.”

  Beth reached for my hand and smiled. It was the first real smile I had seen from her in days. When Cooper took his seat next to mine, Beth leaned over and said to him, “You’re gonna love her story.”

  Cooper didn’t say anything right away, but a smile began to ease itself across his face. It was a quiet smile, peaceful. He turned his head, looked straight ahead, and with his peaceful smile still in place, he said, “I can’t wait to read it.

  Eating disorders are serious illnesses. In the United States 20 million women and 10 million men suffer from an eating disorder at some time in their life.

  For more information about eating disorders please contact:

  National Institute of Mental Health

  Writing this book was extremely challenging for me. Perhaps it was because it meant the most to me. Finding the words and putting them on paper is not an easy task, and throughout the writing process the self doubt was extraordinary. I didn’t know if I would be able to do it. Sometimes the fear of getting it wrong made me want to give up. Alas, I did not. I owed it to Hayden and Beth to keep going and tell their story. The thing about writing is that in order to bring your characters to life, you have become your characters to some degree. At least, that’s true for me. It wasn’t easy to understand Beth because I have no experience with B
ulimia, but I studied and researched and then later, I consulted a woman who was a recovering bulimic, and who later became a beta reader for me. So, my hope is, while this story is fictional, that I managed to shine a light on the very real illness of eating disorders, and hopefully, maybe give a voice to those who suffer quietly.

  To the reader, thank you for sticking around and reading the story of how a man named Hayden fell in love with a girl named Beth and the obstacles they had to overcome. I hope you consider leaving a review on Goodreads and Amazon or wherever you purchased the book.

  Thank you in advance.

  As you may have guessed Ms. Sophie is getting her own book and she gets to tell her story. Expected release date 2016

  You can find the first book in the Stolen Breaths series here…Lily and Cooper’s Story

  The second book in the Stolen Breaths – Shattered – Joe and Maggie’s Story

  Please feel free to contact me by email

  Facebook page

  Goodreads

  Instagram

  My beta readers stuck by my side throughout the writing of this book and I owe each of you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for putting up with me while I doubted everything I wrote along the way. Thank you for your encouragement and valuable thoughts and opinions. I heard every word you guys said to me, even if at times I chose not to implement every suggestion. Just know that I value each of you from the bottom of my heart. Melyssa, Trisha, Trenda, Anne, Maayan, and Sharon – you ladies rock. I have the best beta readers in the world and I love you all.

  That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.

  I owe an extra ‘thank you’ to Deanna Gohn who made special contributions in the shaping of this story and helping me with the research. Thank you so much for your time, effort, insight, and pulling me off the edge of the cliff a time or two. I am forever grateful and I love you.