“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To Deptford. April should be home by the time we get there. It’s too late to see the kids.”
Alice put her tissue to her mouth and started crying. The muffled sounds were more like those a kitten would make, and John was fighting the urge to join her. They wouldn’t be seeing Dougie ever again. Why oh why didn’t I stay at April’s and wait to see him last week?
Alice thought of her grandson, the first time she really allowed it since getting on the plane. He was tall for a seven-year-old, and rail thin. He had her red hair as did most of her grandchildren. She remembered what Doug told her when they first had eyes for each other, that red hair was rare. She’d singlehandedly produced a flock of redheads. Faye’s Ginger had the most unbelievable head of dark red curls anyone had ever seen, and Danielle was destined to be a carrot top. She was already highlighting it with purple and pink, and even her father liked it. John’s daughter, Amy, had perfect eighteen-inch-long ringlets of auburn hair, which stood out from her face like a crown. And she had blue eyes and pale rose skin with just a smattering of freckles. Alice whispered to her recently, “Everyone’s jealous of your complexion.” Amy laughed and whispered back, “I know.”
Alice was doing due diligence. She was a good grandmother. She had been a good mother. Her children knew they were loved. If she didn’t have the skills to put out fires before they were life-threatening, well, she’d go to her grave regretting it. It appeared that two of her girls were in trouble now. She didn’t know about the marital woes of the others.
John pulled into the driveway of April’s house. They gasped when they saw the smashed car.
“What the hell would he bring that here for?” he yelled. “Todd is an asshole.”
“Shush! Jesus, John, let’s not have a family fight tonight,” Beth said.
Alice just shook her head. “Todd and his damn tow truck.”
They walked around to the front door and knocked. April opened up and burst into tears when she saw her family standing there. They hugged each other, crying and saying how sorry they were, when John looked over the tops of everyone’s head at his wife and grimaced. The strong scent of peppermint did not mask the cloud of alcohol vapor swirling around his sister’s head.
~ ~ ~
After midnight, April and Todd were in bed together, and Todd pretended to care that his wife was sad. He went through the motions of comforting her because it was the right thing to do. In truth, he was ready to stay up all night long, fighting. He wanted her to feel like shit that her stupidity, her negligence, just like the warrant would say, had ruined their lives. His son was dead. He lay on his back in the pitch-black bedroom with his eyes open, thinking about Dougie.
He was only twenty-seven when April found out she was pregnant. They’d been married for five years and weren’t even thinking about a family yet. Every day was spent dreaming up new and exciting ways they could spend their time. His close-knit Italian family spent every weekend clamming at his grandmother’s tiny cottage down the Jersey shore. It was six miles from the beach, on Mystic Island. April hated going; she was raised in a small cottage on a creek in south Jersey and preferred the comfort of their spacious apartment in Woodlawn.
The baby changed everything. Todd could only think of protecting his new family. He found their house, and every spare moment was spent remodeling the little dwelling, preparing it for the baby’s arrival. April was the perfect mother, too. She was doting and careful, refusing help from her mother or sister, only allowing Todd’s sister Rose to babysit. It was Rose who blew the whistle on April.
“Your wife is a drunk,” she said to Todd when he drove her home after babysitting so they could go out to dinner.
“Rose, what are you talking about? I was just with April for two hours, and she didn’t have one drink,” he said defensively.
“That’s because she was drunk before you left,” Rose answered disapprovingly. “When I got there this afternoon, she was glassy-eyed and slurring her speech. There was an empty glass in the sink that smelled of vodka. She shouldn’t be alone in that house with a baby.”
Todd didn’t say any more. He pulled up in front of his mother’s house, and Rose got out. But before she closed the door, she bent down to look in the car again.
“Don’t look the other way, Todd. It’s up to you to protect your kids.” She closed the door, and he watched her walk up to the house, his maiden sister who would live at home for the rest of her life.
What did she know? But Todd was careful to watch April after that, and what he discovered upset him because there appeared to be no resolution to it. He couldn’t force her to stop drinking, and going to AA meetings was out of the question for her because she didn’t think she had a problem.
He kept things together by being vigilant, having the support of his mother and sister, who would make frequent drop-ins. But she was still drinking, and he knew it. On the weekends if he was around, she’d sneak it in her coffee or pour it into an empty 7UP can. On more than one occasion he grabbed it out of her hand and poured it down the sink. April would just laugh at him. Lately, she’d been getting up in the middle of the night, getting a few shots in that way.
Last year he met Bonnie. She was a bartender at the Outback. At first he resisted talking to her because of her association with liquor. But she didn’t drink. She was young, in her early twenties. Todd was madly in love with Bonnie. She got pregnant right away, and he was ecstatic.
Bonnie didn’t put any pressure on Todd, either. She knew about April, having seen her in action on more than one occasion, at Dougie’s T-ball games, slurring her speech, yelling at the coach and the other parents, and his soccer games, drinking out of that 7UP can. Bonnie would watch her with baby Mark on her hip, her short shorts hiked up with her cheeks hanging out, and wish there was a way she could befriend her, go over and introduce her as Todd’s girlfriend, “Here, let me help you, April.” But in reality, all Bonnie could do was look on, worried for Doug and the other two boys, and pray that April wasn’t driving. One day last month, April ran into a parked car, but the owner knew Todd’s family and waved her off, smiling.
“I saw April today,” she told Todd. “She was drunk, and she ran into a car. Todd, I’m worried about your kids.”
He looked off, contemplating. “I’ll take her keys away.”
Bonnie nodded her head. “That’s a temporary solution,” she said gently. “I wish I could help you.”
Todd took her hand, but doubted there was anything she could do. Something would have to happen to make April change.
“I know you do,” he said.
This morning, the thing had happened, or so he thought. Because he was impotent to change his wife, his son was dead. Evidently, April didn’t feel bad enough about it yet because she started swilling vodka the minute they walked through the door.
“Aren’t you worried about when they test you?” he yelled. “Jesus, April, you’re going to go to jail for sure.”
She stared at him through glassy eyes. “Right now, I don’t care,” she said. “I killed my kid. I wish I was dead myself.”
As she snored away next to him after a tearful goodnight, Todd knew he had to do something dramatic to get the point across to April. He’d tell her attorney in the morning. Let him handle it. If her blood work showed she was continuing to drink, it could have devastating consequences. He almost wanted her to be incarcerated now; he’d bring Bonnie and baby Todd to live here at the house.
He rolled over on his side and began to cry. It was his fault his son was dead. He remembered watching Dougie emerge from April’s body. It was surreal, like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He’d planted a seed in her body, and this miraculous creature developed. After his birth, the family gathered round and laughed at the baby; he looked like a cartoon character they said. Todd didn’t think so.
As he grew, Dougie was tall and slender like Todd, but had April’s copper hair. He had Todd’s big brow
n eyes, and April’s mouth. And Dougie was so smart; he definitely wasn’t going to be a tow-truck driver. At seven, he was already talking about going to college. He wanted to build skyscrapers, and every chance he got he played with his Legos and made the most imposing structures. While the other boys his age watched video games, Dougie like the National Geographic and History channels on TV. Todd was in awe of his son. But not enough. He knew April was drinking and driving in the afternoon and foolishly hoped his prayers and church candle-lighting would protect the children.
That evening, Alice looked at Todd and subtly shook her head. She sidled up to him. “Did you know she was drinking?”
He shook his head violently.
But Alice was no fool. “I’m guilty of looking the other way myself. Now we have the blood of your son on our hands.” She gasped at her own words, grabbed his arm, and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” then she turned to John and asked him if they could leave.
Todd made arrangements at the hospital for Alice to spend the night, dividing her time between the two boys. She wanted to arrive as soon as possible to relieve Todd’s mother, who’d been there all evening.
John, Beth and Alice walked out to the car together.
“She was drunk,” Beth said. “I smelled it on her breath. Did you notice she kept dozing off?”
Alice wanted to lash out at her daughter-in-law, but since she was at their mercy for a car, decided to keep her mouth shut. John finally spoke up.
“We probably should try to be positive,” he said, looking at Alice through the rearview mirror. “What do you think, Mother?”
“Yes, a little positivity might go a long way right about now.”
Dougie was dead. What good was it going to do to beat up on his mother? All Alice cared about right at that moment was seeing to the needs of the other, surviving boys. Nothing must happen to them, even if it meant imprisoning their mother to keep them safe.
Chapter 17
Lynn went back to the clinic after John left her. Since he wasn’t able to help her after all, she would make sure the biopsy was scheduled by the clinic. As soon as was possible, she wanted the cancer out of her body. She could feel it there, like a time bomb. Yes, best get it out right away.
The friendly receptionist was still at her post when Lynn returned. “I need to schedule my biopsy,” Lynn said. “My brother’s friend wasn’t able to do it after all.”
The young woman nodded her head. “Okay, that’s fine. It’s better to stay with the clinic anyway. You won’t have to worry about anything here.” She brought up a file on the screen of her computer and checked dates. “How about next Tuesday?” She looked up at Lynn. “It will be same-day surgery, so get to the hospital admissions office at seven. You should be discharged by three in the afternoon.”
Lynn nodded her head.
The receptionist wrote the date and time down on a small appointment card and handed it to Lynn. She looked around the reception room. “Do you have someplace to stay the night before?” she asked in a low voice.
Lynn nodded. “I can stay at the shelter for thirty days, and I’ve only been there for two.”
Another patient walked up to the window, so the woman smiled at Lynn, dismissing her. “See you later!”
Lynn walked out of the clinic. It was rush hour. Traffic had picked up, and the heat and dust swirling around with each passing car was making her sick. She decided to walk back to the shelter to get dinner and then find something to read.
Since John told her the news about April’s son, Lynn refused to think about it. She wanted to make her appointment for the biopsy, and when she was alone later that evening, she’d allow herself some time to dwell on it, to let her emotions build up until she felt something. After John left her, she remembered she had, in fact, held Dougie. She was living at home with Alice when April visited shortly after her delivery.
“Do you want to hold him?” she’d asked, smiling.
Lynn remembered that holding the infant did nothing for her. She thought she’d feel a rush of love, or at least emotion, but there was nothing. Now, knowing that he was her nephew and she should be devastated that he was dead, she felt only disappointment. Evidently, her sister didn’t feel much love for him, either, if she could knowingly drive impaired.
She arrived at the shelter in time for dinner. The admissions clerk was surprised to see her there again. “Are you staying tonight, Lynn?” she asked. “Because if you are going to stick around for a few days, you can have the same bed.”
“I have to have same-day surgery next week,” Lynn said.
The clerk frowned. “This isn’t a very good place to recover,” she said. “You won’t be able to have your pain pills with you, and we don’t have the means to dispense them here.”
Lynn hadn’t thought of that. Pain?
“Okay,” she said. Maybe John would come up with something. “But I can stay tonight?”
“Yes, sure you can. Dinner’s still being served. Go get something to eat while you can.”
Lynn smelled beef again, but this time it was fried with cheese and put into a bun, like a Philly cheesesteak sandwich. She walked in to the dining room and saw the hairdresser sitting alone at a table by the window. He waved to her, and after she got her dinner, she walked over to him.
“Have a seat,” he said. “By the way, my name is Barry. What have you been up to today?”
She reminded him about her clinic visit and gave him the news about her cancer and her nephew’s tragic death.
“That sounds like you made it up,” he said with a grimace. “No one has such bad luck in one day.”
She nodded her head. “It’s true. I have to have a biopsy on Tuesday, and I’m waiting for my brother to tell me when the funeral is. My family won’t like it that I’m coming, but my brother thinks it’s important that I do so.” The words were just out of her mouth when the clerk came over to Lynn with a folded piece of paper.
“You had a call,” she said. “Your brother, John. Your nephew’s funeral is Saturday at ten. The viewing is at nine. He said he’ll pick you up here tomorrow after work and bring you home with him. I’ve written it all down for you.”
Lynn studied the paper. She glanced up at the clerk. “Thanks,” she said.
Staying at John’s house for ten minutes was one thing; overnight, she was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be easy. His wife looked down her nose at Lynn. He had four intelligent, inquisitive teenagers. How was a visit from their homeless Aunt Lynn going to go over? No longer hungry for a cheesesteak, Lynn pushed her tray to the side.
“You’d better eat that. You can’t have healing without nutrition,” Barry said.
“So now you’re a health expert?”
“If you’re having surgery, you need protein to build tissue. Eat the sandwich,” he encouraged, pushing the tray back in front of her.
She shrugged her shoulders and picked up the sandwich for a bite.
Barry grinned in response. “Do you have a family? Outside of your siblings?”
She shook her head. “What about you?”
“No wife, but six kids. All boys, all grown. Every one of my boys graduated high school and got a job. Four of ’em gone to community college, one to University of Wilmington.” He was clearly proud of what his kids had accomplished. Lynn wondered how involved he’d been in their upbringing but didn’t ask.
“How long have you been on the street?” she asked instead.
“Just a year,” he said. “I got caught smokin’ dope and lost my license. Once that happens, you can’t work. The salon where I worked, the owner let me do washes, but that was against the law, so she had to let me go.” He finished his food and drank what was left in his coffee cup, which had long grown cold. “I had a little saved, but not enough to keep my apartment for more than a couple of months. I was embarrassed to ask my family for help. My mother is still alive. She was so proud of me going to beauty school. My kids’ mother is married to a cop. So I couldn’t go
to her for help. Besides, I didn’t want my boys to know their dad was a pothead. None of ’em know I’m here. They think I live down in D.C.
“I stay at the shelter for thirty days, spend a night with a friend over at the Ridley Hotel, and come back here for another thirty. Last week they told me I can’t do it anymore, that I got to stay away for at least a week the next time. The good thing about it is that I’m almost sixty-two, so I can collect social security soon.”
She thought it sounded like he knew the system pretty good for only being out there a year, but again didn’t comment. She’d learned while living on the street that the less you gave of your opinions, the better off you’d be. And she didn’t like anyone telling her what to do. Keeping a low profile was best. They finished their dinner.
Barry looked at his watch for the time. “I want to catch the news. What are you going to do?”
Sitting with him in the common area was the last thing she wanted to do. “I think I’ll go find the book I was reading before I left. I hope no one else picked it up. I was at a good part. Then I’ll get ready for bed. I’m tired. I think the cancer is making me need more sleep,” she said, glad for an excuse to get away from Barry for a time.
“Sleep and food, important for fighting disease,” he said, already ignoring her and looking up at the TV.
Lynn made her way through the crowded room to the women’s sleeping quarters. There were six large rooms, two for men, two for women and children, and two for women. If a man with a child came in, they stayed in a smaller, separate room.
The building was old, but someone had taken the time and expense to decorate the rooms nicely. Whoever was in charge did their best to make the sleeping area warm and cozy, but it was still slightly institutional. It was the rows of beds. They’d taken the time to put hospital curtains around each cubical, and that gave some privacy. It was the rule that the curtains were to remain open unless the resident was undressing. Lynn knew some shelters didn’t value modesty and the shower rooms were a free-for-all. She avoided those places. It was better to sleep on the street. This shelter had private bathrooms and offered services like a visiting dentist and optician. She could also choose from stacks of cleaned and ironed clothing when she needed to. Although she hadn’t been asked yet, she understood that from time to time residents were asked to wash clothes and help clean the rooms. Lynn thought she might have to leave if asked; the thought made her sick. Not that she was afraid to work; she didn’t like the idea of cleaning up after another human being. You’re a snob, she thought.
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