Why had she stopped living?
Marnie thought about what happened to her as the music enveloped her and the spray of water hit the roof. She had to make her life better. She had to get her family back to being what they had once been. She needed to let Stuart know she was ready to return to normal; she wanted to be a better mother to Jeremy and Trey. She also hoped that Stuart was serious about trying for another baby. She was ready.
She was ready to focus on her future with Stuart, she was certain of that, and to give her very all to her boys.
Her boys. No matter how crazy lunatic they were, Trey and Jeremy were hers. She had been blessed immensely with them, no doubt about it. And she loved them with every ounce she had in her to love them. She needed to make sure they knew that. And she had finally figured out a way to show them just how very much she loved them.
The van lurched forward and soap splattered across the hood, cleaning away dirt and muck. Marnie knew the boys would love going through the car wash. Even though Jeremy would claim it boring, he wouldn’t be able to hide his smile when the soap bubbled up onto the hood, and the blue rubber straps flapped against the windows like octopus tentacles.
She missed her boys. She needed to get home to her boys. All three of them.
The Odyssey jolted forward again, and Marnie was coming to the end.
The air vents blew from the outside, pushing droplets of water from the windows, drying them.
This is what she needs in her life. A clean-up. She’ll clean up the outside now that the inside has been freed of the muck and dirt and sadness from the past. It’s all been put out into the open. She’ll be new and improved. Clean.
When the van lurches forward at the end of the wash, Marnie blinks when the bright sunlight hits her eyes.
It’s a revelation. It’s exactly what she needs.
She shifts the van from neutral into drive and it slides forward a couple feet. She takes a right out onto the street but before she makes her way home, she knows there are a couple more things she has to do.
Then she’ll go home to her family.
**
Marnie pulled open the heavy oak door, and as she expected, the church was empty. It had been a while since she’d been in St. Patrick’s. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time they took the kids to Mass. Definitely last Christmas. Easter. They hadn’t gone when the baby died. They should have. Marnie remembered feeling angry at God for about two seconds, and then she pulled that anger back inside, heavy, black and thick. She turned it on herself, changed it to guilt.
She had blamed herself.
This whole time, she blamed herself for what had happened last summer to her baby.
She slipped into the second pew and knelt, facing the statue of the Virgin Mary. She said a silent Hail Mary, remembered the words, almost. She messed up the second part where it started Holy Mary, Mother of God.
“Sorry,” she said, while signing the cross.
All these years she had been waiting for something bad to happen after the abortion. She knew that now. Throughout her pregnancies with Jeremy and Trey, she had prayed every night to keep her babies safe. She had feared that because she chose to not keep her first baby, that God wouldn’t let her have others. And even the other time she thought she was pregnant and it turned out she wasn’t, she blamed it on the abortion. She thought it was God punishing her. She remembered thinking that she wasn’t able to get pregnant again because she had had the abortion. God’s way of telling her she was a bad person, and that she didn’t deserve to have more babies.
Marnie looked around her. Stain glass windows illuminated the church, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of something she couldn’t label. For a long while, she had been feeling guilt, anger, anxiety, pain, loneliness, sadness. But now, she wasn’t feeling any of that. However, she couldn’t actually place what she was feeling. Maybe serenity? Peace? St. Patrick’s was the church she and Stuart made their commitment to one another, one that she was so thankful for, one that she cherished, she understood that now. This was the church Jeremy and Trey were christened in. Jeremy received his First Communion here. This should be their place to come when they needed to find solace, peace, answers and forgiveness. Marnie knew why she was here. She was looking for forgiveness.
Marnie needed to forgive herself.
After all these years, she finally knew this. Although she now understood she did the right thing considering the circumstances, she needed to make peace with herself. She had been battling herself all these years, feeling the immense guilt of her own decision, when all along she knew she had done the only thing she could have done at the time.
She had done the right thing. And nothing that had occurred afterward was a direct result of what had happened because of her abortion.
Not one thing.
Listen to yourself Marnie. Listen. Believe in yourself because it’s true. Nothing you did back then caused anything to happen in your future.
Not one thing.
Marnie exhaled.
She got up from the pew, walked to the statue of the Virgin Mary and looked at her. She appeared so young, yet so wise. How had she been so wise, so sure? How did such a young woman know to trust?
Marnie moved to the front of the altar where the rows of red candles were always lit. She marveled that the place had never caught on fire. She reached for one of the long matches with the bright red tips, and paused for a moment. Finally she held the match to one of the lit candles and her match ignited.
Then she touched the flame to an unlit candle, and took a deep breath.
“This one’s for you, my first baby.”
In a couple of seconds it caught, sparked, and the candle flamed. Tears streaked her face, but she didn’t move to wipe them away.
Marnie took her lit match and moved it to the candle next to the one she just lit. This one caught fire right away.
“And this one’s for you, my baby daughter. May God bless you both, and keep you safe.”
**
She turned the corner on Parker Lane and saw them right away. The sun had been shining all day, melting what little snow had been on the ground, so she knew Stuart and the boys would be playing out front despite cold temperatures. He was pitching a ball to Trey, while Jeremy stood behind him punching his catcher’s mitt, no doubt calling him a wuss or a pansy for not swinging at the last pitch.
Marnie felt a slow smile spread across her face. Pure and real.
She stopped the van on the side of the curb four houses away and watched for a moment, undetected by her boys. Stuart pitched another and when Trey swung this time, he connected with it. The ball flew over Stuart’s head and Marnie saw Jeremy shouting and pointing toward first base as Stuart ran for the ball. Trey raced toward first, rounded second, then stopped at third when Stuart finally retrieved the ball and got back to the pitcher’s mound, making motions to threaten to tag out Trey.
Marnie wondered where things got bad. She loved Stuart with everything that she was – her whole being – she had always known this. She loved her life. She did love Joe. Once upon a time. People love and lose throughout their lives; that’s how it works. Things go bad. Things get messy. Things get better. She was looking forward to the ‘get better’ part.
It was Jeremy’s turn at bat. Trey was anxiously hopping up and down on third, cheering for his brother. The first pitch was way up and outside; even from Marnie’s vantage point, she could tell. She shook her head and laughed out loud, then laughed louder because she realized she was laughing out loud in the van, alone. Well, almost.
She pictured Jeremy rolling his eyes at his father and telling him to “get with it” and he was probably also telling him that he pitched like a girl, or maybe he even said, “Mom can pitch better than you, Dad.”
Marnie couldn’t wait to get over there to be with them, but she also wanted to take this moment and watch them. She wanted this image of her boys, her family, imprinted in her mind.
The next
pitch was it, and Jeremy smacked it into the neighbor’s yard. Stuart turned to watch it fly overhead while Jeremy ran the bases with his hands over his head in victory, and Trey cheered crazily for his brother.
“This is it,” Marnie said out loud. Her heart raced with excitement.
She put the van into gear, unable to wait any longer. Maybe she would get the camera out later. She hadn’t taken pictures of her own family in such a long time, and she knew there would be tons of smiles today. Tons. More than she could even imagine.
The boys were doing some champion dance at home plate when she pulled into the drive and when they saw her, they ran to the van. Stuart took off his mitt and lifted his ball cap off his head, running his fingers through his wavy hair.
God, he’s handsome, Marnie thought. So handsome. I am so lucky. And he’s such a great father.
“Mommy!” Trey yelled.
Marnie had the window down.
“Hey honey. What took you so long?” Stuart asked. “We thought you had to deliver the photos. We didn’t think you’d be gone for so long.”
“Yeah Mom! What took you forever? We missed you,” Jeremy said.
They missed me. My family.
“Well,” Marnie said, that slow smile spreading across her face again, “I had a little something to take care of. But I’m back now.”
“Where’d you go?” Trey asked.
Marnie stepped out of the van, and closed the door quickly. “Boys, go over to the back of the van for a minute.”
The boys rushed to the other side of the van and Marnie reached for Stuart, pulling him to her, feeling him, all of him, for what seemed like the first time in a long while.
“I love you. I love you so much,” she whispered holding onto his cold face with both of her hands, taking in all of him.
She loved this man. This one.
He pulled her into him, and she felt the now she’d been waiting for her whole life. She felt the present, and she felt all of the guilt she’d ever had slip away. It was gone, all of it. She had forgiven herself.
She was where she was supposed to be. Exactly.
And Marnie knew she wouldn’t be in this spot if it were not for all of the previous moments in her life that led her here. So she was thankful. Even for the sad times, and the hard times, because they brought her to this moment. This moment right now, here. With her family.
“Mom! What did ya get for us?” Jeremy jumped up and down, his cold breath fogging the windows as he tried to peek into the van.
“Yeah Mommy! Where were you today?” Trey asked.
Marnie looked at Stuart. Kissed him. And smiled. “You ready for this?”
“With you, anything,” he smiled back, his arms still around her. Marnie led Stuart to the back of the van where Trey and Jeremy tried to get a glimpse at the surprise.
Marnie opened the door. A black ball of fur bolted out of the van and Trey and Jeremy tumbled to the ground. The kids were tangled in a pile and the puppy licked their faces and jumped on the boys while they howled and screamed.
Stuart looked at Marnie.
“A puppy?” he asked.
“Our puppy.”
“A doggy!” Trey shrieked.
“You got us our dog!” Jeremy yelled as the pup licked his face and climbed onto his stomach.
“I got you your dog!” Marnie could barely contain her excitement. They had been wanting this for so long.
“Oh wow, Mom!” Jeremy screeched, “Can we name it Bast– ”
Marnie and Stuart, at the same time, yelled, “No!”
Stuart put his arm around Marnie and kissed her. She looked at her husband, then at her children, who were piled onto the frozen ground with their new puppy. Marnie laughed and leaned into Stuart, grateful for the chance to love him and her children the way they deserved to be loved. And Marnie was also grateful for understanding finally that she could also love herself, wholly and completely, despite the choices she had made in the past.
“I’ll go grab my camera,” she said to Stuart, but first she knelt down by the boys and they smothered her in kisses.
“Thank you Mommy! We love our puppy!” Trey said, tangling his arms around Marnie’s neck.
“You’re the best mommy in the world!” Jeremy yelled, and the puppy bounced onto Marnie and licked her face. She was trying, she was trying so very hard. She knew it would take some time, but they had plenty of that.
“I’ll get the camera,” Stuart leaned down and kissed Marnie again, full on the lips. “You stay here and play with our boys.”
Marnie’s Playlist:
Take Me Home – Phil Collins
Love Song – The Cure
Add It Up – Violent Femmes
Sign Your Name – Terrence Trent D’Arby
Sweet Child O’ Mine – Guns N’ Roses
How Can I Fall – Breathe
Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo
Pour Some Sugar on Me – Def Leppard
Faithfully – Journey
Bizarre Love Triangle – New Order
Groovy Kind of Love – Phil Collins
Say It Isn’t So – The Outfield
Any Way You Want It – Journey
A Murder of One – Counting Crows
Coming soon by Stephanie Elliot
Welcome to Targetland
Siobhan O’Donovan opened the kitchen cabinet again, knowing full well that there would be nothing different inside. The crusty unused salt shaker was there, next to the half-empty peppermill. A box of stale lemon Girl Scout cookies, two boxes of Aunt Annie’s mac-n-cheese, a few cans of Campbell’s tomato soup, and some straggling fortune cookies took up residence in the almost bare cabinet.
Nothing to eat, ever.
She snatched a fortune cookie, tearing at the plastic wrap, cracked its shell and slid out the wisdom.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
A muffled noise sprang from her lips, a mix between laughter and annoyance.
“As if.”
Siobhan crunched the cookie, then retrieved another from the cabinet. The Chinese delivery guy always gave her extras when she ordered chicken fried rice even though she never took the chain off the door and barely mumbled a thank you when he brought take-out.
This time, her cookie delivered a brighter message: “Tomorrow will be a new day.”
“Oh really?” Siobhan walked toward the bird cage in the living room. “Listen to this one, Mr. Jones,” Siobhan said, “Tomorrow’s a freaking, new day.”
Siobhan’s ebony bird squawked from inside the cage, and she rewarded him with a sunflower seed that he took from her fingers and broke open with his beak.
“You get a seed, I get a stale cookie. Who’s getting the better deal here?” Mr. Jones squawked again, high-pitched and chattery.
Siobhan finished her cookie and wiped errant crumbs from her Counting Crows T-shirt. Then, she went back to the kitchen and grabbed the Lemon Joy from underneath the sink, popped the lid and took a big whiff of the citrus-scented soap. She turned the water to hot, plugged the sink and let it fill, steamy and warm.
In her head she counted one, two, three, four, four and a half as she squeezed squirts of the lemony soap into the water. Once the sink filled with foam, she lowered four clean dinner plates and two glasses that she had drunk water from into the suds. Each plate got exactly eight circular swipes of the sponge front and back. She scrubbed both glasses thoroughly and then Siobhan rinsed each item and placed them all into the dishwasher that she had never used so they could air-dry. Mr. Jones chattered in the other room, and busied himself by ringing his toy bell.
First thing in the morning, Siobhan would take all the plates and glasses out of the dishwasher and place them back into the cabinet where they’d remain until she felt compelled to either use a plate or glass, or wash them again, probably repeating the ritual the next evening.
She loathed the thought of dirty dishes, and if they sat through the day, they were sure to get dirty.
Siobhan glanced at her smartphone. Still no text from Martin and it was ten-sixteen. She wasn’t quite tired, but she had a big day tomorrow, and her fortune had predicted accurately. She headed back into the living room, placed the paint-splotched night sheet over Mr. Jones’ cage and he immediately quieted down.
“Night, cackler.”
She made her way to the front door of her apartment and cracked it open slowly. She poked her head into the dim of the hallway. A quick look to the right indicated that all was quiet at Martin’s place, and she didn’t hear the elevator motors running. Another look to the left showed that the emergency door to the stairwell was shut tight and the window to the outside at the end of the hall was secured. Siobhan closed her door, locked the bolt and then put the chain on.
She leaned against the door and sighed.
Why were the simplest of things so exhausting?
In her bathroom, she selected a new green toothbrush from a family pack of five – because it was Sunday – and she almost rubbed her thumb across the sharp bristles, but then thought better of it. She spread an ample layer of cinnamon Close-Up onto the new brush, wet it under the stream of water, and began brushing, thirty-two times on the top left, thirty-two on the top right, while she stared straight ahead into the mirror, looking at herself, not blinking.
Right after it happened, and when she started brushing like this, she couldn’t stare for very long, but now, now she could go the whole time almost without blinking. Well, she would half-blink maybe once, because if she didn’t, her eyes would begin to tear up and blur the image in front of her. She was sure it was because of the cinnamon Close-Up burning her mouth.
That’s what she told herself.
After brushing her top teeth, she did her bottoms, but brushed fifty-three back-and-forths on each side because she knew her bottom teeth were more susceptible to cavities and there was no way she was going to the dentist. She stopped at fifty-three because that’s when her mouth began to foam full of toothpaste, and her eyes really started to burn, and her mouth felt on-fire clean. She wasn’t a big fan of odd numbers, but that’s when she stopped counting the bottom strokes. Brushing her teeth took a total of seven minutes every night. But she had the most beautiful smile. Everyone told her so. Well, they used to.
A Little Bit of Everything Lost Page 23