“Help!” April screamed, frantic. “Help! My boys! My boys!”
The driver of the truck stumbled out of his vehicle to go to her, but he was injured, too. Other cars stopped to help, someone dialing 911.
“Doug!” April screamed again, fighting to twist around in her seat to find her child, but it was no use; he was dead, smashed up between the wreckage and his brother Todd. Todd Jr. was alive, but injured, not having the strength to pull away from the horror next to him, and barely conscious, thank God. Mark’s screams escalated, and someone in the street got the door open when another good Samaritan reached into April’s broken window and pressed the unlock button of her car, reaching in to retrieve the baby.
“You shouldn’t touch him in case he has internal injuries. This is Todd Cabrini’s family,” a bystander said. “I’m calling him.” The man dialed Todd’s garage number and told the dispatch the news.
The emergency vehicle got there in minutes and shooed the helpers away, thanking them. The first responder who spoke with April smelled alcohol on her breath and immediately told the policeman on the scene. They would draw April’s blood for alcohol as soon as they got everyone out of the car. Mark was screaming; Todd Jr. was unconscious. April was crying and begging the EMT’s for information about her children, although she could see clearly that Doug was dead, but she wanted to be wrong.
“Is Doug alive?” she screamed, “Is he breathing?”
Todd’s tow truck pulled up, and he jumped out, yelling for his wife.
“April! My God, this is my family,” he said, beginning to cry. “My family, my sons.”
Ron, one of the policemen who knew Todd around town as a good guy always ready to help when there was a wreck, pulling totaled cars out of the way of traffic and often not being reimbursed by the township, went to him immediately and pulled him to the side of the street in a bear hug.
“Douglas is gone, Todd. The car was hit on his side,” he said. “The others are alive, but Doug is gone.”
“Oh, God, no!” Todd said, crying, clinging to Ron’s shirt as the officer held his friend upright. “What happened? Did he run the stop sign?” Todd pointed to the truck now turned around in the opposite direction it was going originally because of the impact of the crash.
“No, it looks like April did,” Ron said. It didn’t register with Todd because he was back at Doug being dead. His little guy, first born. The one who held down the fort while Todd worked, watching the other children so that April could drink herself into oblivion every day.
“April did what?” Todd asked, confused, sniffing, coughing and spitting into the street, almost on the verge of throwing up. Tears and mucous ran down his face. “April did what, Ron?”
“She ran the stop sign. April’s got alcohol on her breath, Todd. You better get her a lawyer right away. We have cause to hold her until blood work comes back.” Ron took his friend by the jaw and forced him to listen. “Did you hear what I said? Get a lawyer for your wife, Todd.” He turned his eyes from the wreckage as his toddler son in pajamas and his unconscious five-year-old were pulled from it gently, and seeing April in her sleep shirt, shorts and a messy ponytail, he knew something was wrong.
“Okay. But can I go to my kids?”
Ron led him over to the back of the ambulance as the children were being examined by the EMTs. Todd embraced his baby, crying some more while his friend got his truck keys and moved it to the side of the street. Someone had called a competitor to move the wrecks off the street. This was one bill Todd wasn’t going to foot himself.
April saw Todd and started calling his name. He could tell she hadn’t been drinking that morning. If they smelled alcohol, it was from the previous night. She didn’t drink in the morning. He left his children and walked over to April. Ron came back with the keys.
“What’s going on?” Todd asked Ron, pretending he didn’t hear the earlier pronouncement about April’s breath. He put his arms around his wife, feigning concern. He wanted to kill her. But then the realization that their son was dead threw him. He looked down at her. “Dougie’s dead, baby, he’s dead.”
April screamed a long, sad wail. “Noooooooooo!”
“Todd, the EMTs smelled alcohol on April’s breath. That’s all the reason we need to take her down to the station and get a blood draw,” Ron repeated.
“What about a breathalyzer?” Todd said. “She hasn’t been drinking. I don’t care what someone smelled on her, do a breathalyzer right now.”
Ron knew about April; all of their friends knew, as did the townspeople. She was a drunk. But Todd was playing a role right now. The dutiful husband. His wife didn’t drink. He’d just lost a son, violently. He loved April. He would stand by her, because God knew she would punish herself enough. Ron walked back to the squad car and got the paraphernalia he needed. He administered the breathalyzer. Had her walk a straight line. Repeat 1-20 backwards. She passed all the tests. But because of the smell, the suspicion of impairment was made. The officer knew all about those late night drinks that left telltale odors in the morning. But April’s car even smelled like a drunk’s car.
She was leaning into Todd, inconsolable. It was almost rhythmic; she’d start crying, heartbroken sobbing, and then he would join in. They’d cry together, and then one of them would stop and comfort the other. Finally, the ambulance was getting ready to leave. Ron waved Todd over.
“You should go with the kids,” he said.
Todd was hesitant. He didn’t want to leave April, but he really didn’t want to leave Doug, who was still lying on the pavement under a sheet. The medical examiner was taking pictures of the scene and would be ready to leave soon with the little body. Todd glanced over at the sheet and started crying again. He grabbed April, and she whispered so that only he could hear.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, Todd. Our baby.” It was clear they were going to be taking a trip down a horrible path in the coming days. April was in shock; she’d thrown up bile and now was on the verge of shitting herself. She looked at their friend Ron. “I have to go to the bathroom, now.” The urgency was clear.
“I’ll take you home first,” he said, knowing he was dangerously close to committing what may be construed as an act of cover-up if he didn’t get her blood work done soon. Todd left with the ambulance, Doug was put into the back of the MEs van, and April got into the front seat of Ron’s squad car, a move those observers still on the scene wouldn’t miss.
In the ambulance, Todd called his mother first. Diane Cabrini was the antithesis of the generalized Italian grandmother, but she loved her son’s kids as much as any. She was on the golf course when he told her, and he heard her phone drop when she screamed. A golf friend picked up the phone and explained she had fainted, so Todd repeated the news to apologetic gasps, then hung up. He had to call his brothers and then someone in April’s family. The only person he could think of was Faye, not his favorite. But the brother was never available, working like he did in the OR, and the mother had lost her mind, running away with a motorcycle hoodlum. And that left Lynn, who was homeless. He called the garage first to get Faye’s number from dispatch; the woman who answered was crying, upsetting Todd again, but he knew it would go on like this for a long time. She got Faye’s number and read it to him, finally agreeing to send it in a text. He couldn’t remember his own name let alone a number.
Faye answered on the first ring. “What is it, Todd? I’m in the grocery store,” she said when he hesitatingly told her who it was.
“April ran a stop sign and was hit by a truck. Doug was killed,” he said softly, not wanting to alarm his living children.
Faye screamed. “Oh God, Todd! What can I do? Is April okay?”
Todd lost it then. “No, no, she’s not okay. She’s on her way to the station for a blood alcohol test, Faye. Call your brother-in-law for us, will you?” Vinnie’s oldest boy was a defense attorney in Haddonfield. A DUI homicide was right up his alley. Faye said she would and hung up. Todd was pleased; he could hear t
he urgency in her good-bye. Faye would take care of things.
Chapter 12
The longest stretch of the journey for Dave and Alice was between South Bend and her home. It would take them over twelve hours on the back of a motorcycle, but they had to get home for Lynn. They were taking their time getting motivated the next day when Dave’s cell phone rang. It was John Bradshaw for Alice, and he was obviously upset. Dave looked with concern at Alice. He hoped Lynn was okay.
“It’s John,” he said, handing the phone over to her.
“John? Is everything okay?” She listened for a moment and then felt for a chair behind her and sat down. “Oh my God. Oh my God. How’s April? Was she hurt?” She listened for moment. “I’ll fly home now.” She looked pleadingly at Dave as John spoke.
Dave could hear the lilt of his voice as he cried out to his mother. What could it be? Alice said good-bye and handed the phone back to Dave. She put her hands over her face and leaned over, almost with her head in her lap. Her shoulders were shaking. Dave didn’t know what to do. He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them back and forth. She looked up with black raccoon makeup under her eyes, tears streaming.
“My little grandson. Douglas. Named for my husband. My daughter ran a stop sign and got hit. The boy is gone. I have to get home right away.”
“You can leave from Chicago. I’ll call right now.” Dave got out his phone again and keyed in some letters, looking for a ticket service. He got her a flight to Philadelphia leaving in four hours. It would be enough time for them to get to the airport. Not wanting to upset her further, Dave didn’t ask any questions; if the daughter had been injured, she’d have mentioned it. She’d be with her family by evening.
There was nothing to pack; she didn’t have a suitcase, just a purse. She was embarrassed that her dirty underpants were in a plastic grocery bag in the saddlebags of his motorcycle but there was nothing she could do about it. Every time she thought of the sweet little boy with the red hair and freckles, how when he saw her, he would run to her and throw his arms around her waist, she started crying again.
“Dougie,” she moaned, her cheek pressed against Dave’s back as he navigated through traffic in Chicago. She tried not to think of April. She was rushed through security and treated with kindness by the flight attendants when her flight was boarding. She’d never flown in a plane before, but it was lost on her. The nightmare had just begun.
~ ~ ~
Faye threw her phone in her purse and ran out of the grocery store, already crying.
The manager yelled after her. “Do you want me to save your cart?”
She screamed, “No!” as she got to her car, fumbling with the keys. The heat blasted out at her as she pulled the door open and slid in on the vinyl seat, burning the back of her legs. She tried twice to get the key in the ignition and finally stopped, reopening the door of the car, taking a deep breath. And then anxiety hit again, and in the renewed frenzy of trying to start her car and imagining the face of her nephew Doug, she began to sob. She lowered her head to the steering wheel of her car and just let it come out.
Nonsensically, she thought of Vinnie then, his pout as he loaded his car with his clothes and belongings, and how he pounded on her bedroom door, trying to get her attention. Did Dougie die because she was a whore? Who knew how far the consequences of one’s actions reached? She understood it was self-absorbed to think of herself at a time like this. But her thoughts dashed to her mother, the blame she would have to shoulder. It was partly her fault that April was a drunk.
The family whispered about it for years. April passing out on the front porch when she was in high-school. Not once, but weekly. Did Alice ever address the drinking? She’d ground April for the week and then Friday night, let her go out and the problem would repeat itself. As far as Faye knew, April never got any help. She drank her way through high school and then college. Todd acknowledged his wife had a drinking problem, and he turned away, too. Faye herself let April drink all day at the beach; she’d brought a cooler full of vodka drinks and then watched her get in the car with her three boys. She was barely able to keep her eyes open, but Faye didn’t want her coming home to Cedar Springs. She didn’t want to bother, either.
In minutes, she calmed down, anger replacing the anguish, and was able to get the key in the ignition, start the car and maneuver the big vehicle through the parking lot of the Save A Dime. She sped through her neighborhood and screeched into the driveway behind a strange car. Bill’s truck was parked on the street.
“God!” she screamed, banging the door to the mudroom opened. She could see Bill sitting at the table with a man in a sport shirt. They had paper folders laid out in front of them and were both drinking something dark in a tall glass with ice. Bill sprang up, frowning.
“What! We have a visitor, Faye,” he said, eyes toward the man. “This is Tom Bennett. He’s giving me an estimate to repoint the deck around the pool.”
Faye burst out crying, scaring Bill and his guest.
“Jesus, Faye, what the hell is wrong?” He finally went to her and grabbed her arms as she folded onto a chair.
“April ran a stop sign. Dougie was killed. You need to call Paul right away. The cop said they smelled booze on her breath. But it was early; she wouldn’t have been drinking yet.” Faye put her hands over her face and broke down again, wailing.
Tom Bennett quickly got up and gathered his papers. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Bill,” he said, looking worried. “I’m so sorry. What a God-awful thing.”
Bill put his hand on the man’s shoulder and led him out of the kitchen, but he came back to his wife right away. He bent over her to get his phone off the table, keying in his brother’s number, who was in a meeting with a client but would call back as soon as he was finished.
“Who called you?” Bill asked.
“Todd,” she said. “He was riding in the ambulance with Junior and Mark. I didn’t ask if they were okay, but obviously they weren’t! I need to get up there.”
Bill got out his phone again. He keyed in his brother Bob’s number, and when his wife Carol answered the phone, he told her the story. She said she’d come right over to be with the kids while Bill took Faye up to Deptford.
Faye looked at him with gratitude. “You’re going with me?”
He nodded. “You can’t go alone. Is that crazy mother of yours home yet?”
Faye shook her head but said she was on her way home, something about Lynn. Bill noticed she didn’t sneer when she mentioned Lynn’s name. Bill went to Faye and put his arm around her shoulders. It was the first time in months they’d had any physical contact, and the simple act smashed down the wall between them. She stood up and fell against him, crying again.
“I’m so sorry, Faye. What an awful thing. That poor little boy.”
In their twenty-year marriage, Bill had never accompanied Faye to any family member’s house unless it was John’s. He would relent and go when it was their turn to host holiday dinners. So in an air of unreality, they got into Faye’s Escalade, Bill driving, to take the trip up to Deptford. Faye wasn’t even sure why they were going, but concern about her sister’s wellbeing and the safety of the other two little boys motivated her, and she supposed it was what a good sister would do for her sibling. The idea that she was even questioning her motives in this tragedy made her sad. What kind of family did she come from, anyway?
As Bill wound the car through the narrow back roads which led to the New Jersey Turnpike, Faye studied his profile. He didn’t falter in his responsibilities. He hadn’t once brought up Vinnie since the embarrassing discovery. Even now as Faye thought of it, she shivered. The memory of being naked in front of her husband and father-in-law still made her sick. But as well as not mentioning it, he also hadn’t made one overture to her, in bed or otherwise. The comforting embrace he offered a while ago in the kitchen was the first, not an icebreaker, but a move toward reconciliation, she hoped.
“Thank you for driving me,�
� she said. “I don’t know if I could make the trip alive.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she thought of Dougie and began to cry. “How’s April going to get over this?” Fragile at the least, her sister was not designed to cope with loss of any kind.
“I can’t imagine,” Bill said. “If anything happened to one of our kids, I’d probably die myself.”
“Horrible! I can’t even think about it. And it was her fault; she ran the stop sign. She was the one who had alcohol on her breath. Oh, God, if they find out she’d been drinking this morning, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive her.”
The recent times Faye served her sister a cocktail and then allowed her to get into a car with her kids didn’t count. Faye set higher standards for those around her than for herself and the realization that she was judging April smacked her in the face. She lowered her head to cry again. “Oh, poor April! She doesn’t deserve this. Why? Why did it happen? Hasn’t our family been through enough crap?”
A fleeting moment of clarity, as she thought of Karma, fucking her father-in-law, being mean to her mother, talking about Lynn like she was a dog, came smashing down on her. But pride wouldn’t let her admit it, even to Bill. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it. He didn’t agree with Faye, but didn’t say out loud that if you drive while you are drunk and run a stop sign, someone may get killed. As he ruminated on that, his phone rang. It was Paul.
“Her blood alcohol was within legal limits, but she had been drinking sometime that morning. She admitted to having a shot of vodka at three. Someone’s pissed off in the local burg, though, and they are going to prosecute her. She ran the stop sign, and it caused a death. That’s enough to book her for negligent homicide,” Paul explained. “I’ll send my associate over to arrange bail.”
Alice's Summertime Adventure Page 11