“Sure,” Reyna said with a smile.
“OMG! Awesome. I’ll bring the donuts,” Maggie said.
“I’ll bring the coffee,” Julie added.
She couldn’t believe how excited they were to wake up early on a Saturday to study. Maybe their enthusiasm would rub off on the two or three students that came begrudgingly.
After dropping off Andrea and Shawan at their respective homes, Reyna crawled into her bed missing the warmth of Scott’s body. Given her history of insomnia, she didn’t expect to fall asleep. And she certainly didn’t expect to talk to La Cienega.
Chapter 35
Saturday Nov. 22
Reyna hated when she dreamed in silence. She felt like she had no voice, no control. That’s what the dream was like. It was more than a dream. It felt just like a future memory. She sat on La Cienega’s porch just before dawn, watching the marsh. She saw bright green frogs jump from lily pad to lily pad. She saw gentle leaves blowing in the warm breeze. She breathed in the scent of spices and beans. La Cienega stood with her hands clasped over her heart smiling as if she could see all the wonderful sights Reyna enjoyed with her eyes. Her lips were moving, but all Reyna could hear was silence.
Suddenly, La Cienega’s face morphed into another form. As the sun rose above the marsh, the light was so bright Reyna was forced to close her eyes. When she opened them again, La Cienega was gone and the person that stood before her was her mother. At least she thought it was her mother. The figure seemed miles away from her on the small porch. Reyna jumped up to run to her but it took longer than expected, especially since all of the sudden, she was just a five-year-old running on tiny legs.
The closer Reyna got, the farther her mother seemed. Then she disappeared completely. Reyna fell to her knees. Her body heaved with painful sobs. She wanted to see her mother. She wanted to talk to her and hold her. Most of all she wanted to tell her about Scott. About how much she loved him. She knew they would get along if they ever met.
Reyna felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see La Cienega smiling down at her. When her lips moved, Reyna couldn’t hear the comforting voice she missed so much. Maybe if she were speaking English she could read her lips, but Reyna couldn’t decipher the Spanish. It had been too long. Her Spanish was dull from lack of practice.
She tried to scream to break the silence. She banged on her ears trying to get them to work, but nothing helped. When La Cienega said all she needed to say, she smiled and walked away from five-year-old Reyna. She felt a pain in her chest as she saw La Cienega grow smaller and smaller in the distance and finally disappearing into the sun’s rays. She couldn’t make her stop. She couldn’t make her come back.
Then she woke up. She couldn’t shake the eeriness of the dream. The utter lack of control she felt, like nothing she did was of any consequence. She stared at the ceiling for hours trying to figure out what it meant.
Since she couldn’t sleep anymore, she decided to get up and go to the center. It was five o’clock in the morning. She figured she could work on her Econ project for a few hours before the group arrived.
A streetlight that normally illuminated the front door of the community center had busted leaving Reyna in almost complete darkness. She shivered from the cold of the morning and from the fear of being alone in the dark. She chastised herself for putting herself in this position yet again. She shouldn’t be alone in this neighborhood. It wasn’t safe. She promised herself that she would never be alone there in the dark again. For some reason, her heart raced as she felt the utter truth of that statement in her soul.
Reyna slid the key in the door, but it wouldn’t turn. She wiggled it, stuck it in and out, but nothing helped. The door was jammed. Her heart beat faster. Why was she so afraid? This happened all the time.
“Calm down, Rey. You’re being ridiculous,” she told herself as she walked around to the side of the building. The same three milk crates she’d used last time were still there. She climbed them and then forced the window open.
She heard voices. Someone was yelling, “Stop! Don’t move!” The police must have been interrupting a robbery nearby. She knew there was a reason she didn’t want to be there at that moment. She scrambled faster, reaching toward the window. She didn’t want to get in the middle of a robbery in progress. The voice came again, louder this time. It didn’t occur to her that perhaps the voice was talking to her. It didn’t occur to her until she felt the hot metal piercing her flesh.
I’m so proud of you, Mija. La Cienega spoke with her hands clasped in front of her heart, using the Spanish term of endearment that translated to “my daughter.” You have influenced so many people. When people think of you, they’ll smile.
Reyna looked around. She was on La Cienega’s porch again. Then she saw her. Her mother. She was so close Reyna reached out and touched her. She ran her fingertips over her mother’s face. The face she hadn’t seen since she was five. The face she had begun to forget.
“Oh, mommy. I’ve missed you so much. There’s so much I have to tell you.”
Shh, her mother said, placing a finger over Reyna’s lips. We don’t have time to talk right now. It’s time to sleep.
“Sleep?” Reyna was beyond confused. She didn’t understand why her mother would finally come to her and then tell her to sleep. She also didn’t understand why her chest hurt so badly. Was it the pain of not having a mother for so long? She covered her chest with her hand and felt a warm wetness. She looked at her hand and gasped as blood dripped from it.
Don’t be afraid, my love, her mother said. Death is like sleep.
Chapter 36
Nov. 23, 2008
Stu was helping me with my tie when the doorbell rang. My hands shook so badly that after six attempts and 20 minutes I had only succeeded in nearly choking myself. I couldn’t tell whether the shaking came from the disease or the nerves. Even though Reyna and I were already married, there was something about a public ceremony that made me more jittery than a pig on a pogo stick.
“Is the limo here already?” I asked, looking at the clock. I couldn’t believe that in just three short hours I would show the world how much I loved Reyna Lewis Kincaid. And I was doing it right this time. No quickie hospital ceremony. According to the plans the social committee had made, this was going to be the wedding of Reyna’s dreams.
Stu gave the bow tie a final tug then scooted over to the window.
“It’s Mr. Lewis,” he said, his voice hinged with confusion.
“Oh good. Do you think I should show him Reyna’s surprise? Should I show him how far I can walk?”
“He’s here with the police.” Stu pushed my chair to the window letting me get a view of the front porch. A weird feeling crept into my bones. I kinda felt like how I imagined a squirrel felt like when it darted out into the road then saw a pair of oncoming lights. I wanted to turn around and retreat into the safety of a wooden haven. I wanted to dig a hole and travel into the Earth for safekeeping. I knew something wasn’t right.
Mr. Lewis and two large uniformed officers loomed in my living room. Neither of them made eye contact with me. Both officers took their caps off, nodded hello then averted their eyes again. I tried to search each of their faces to figure out what was going on, but to no avail.
“Sorry about the police escort,” Mr. Lewis said his voice a hoarse whisper. “I wasn’t up for driving.” I caught a glimpse of his red swollen eyes only a millisecond before panic set in.
“Where’s Reyna?”
Mr. Lewis didn’t answer my question. Instead, he stumbled over to the dining room table and leaned on it as if he was about to faint. One of the officers helped him into a seat.
“Reyna went to the community center this morning. Early this morning. You know she never sleeps.” He smiled as if thinking of a memory. “I should’ve gotten that door fixed. It’s been broken for months. Why didn’t I get that door fixed?”
I wheeled closer to Mr. Lewis so that our knees nearly touched. Stu stood behind m
e and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“Like I said, Reyna went to the community center early this morning. I guess she wanted to prepare for the Saturday study session or something. She wouldn’t take a day off even on her wedding day.”
He stopped again. Why was he taking so long to tell this story? I felt like my insides were turning to liquid, boiling up inside me ready to explode if someone didn’t tell me where Reyna was immediately.
“Mr. Lewis, where’s my wife?” He looked at me strangely then. As if he’d never heard the word wife before. Or at least had never heard anyone say it in reference to his only daughter.
“She couldn’t get the door open,” he continued, his voice shaking. “She tried to climb through the window. We’ve been robbed three times. The police thought they were helping. They thought she was some thug trying to break in and rob us again. They yelled for her to stop. She probably didn’t think they were talking to her. They fired and … and shot her.”
I breathed in sharply. The wind sucked out of me. Stu gasped and squeezed my shoulder. Mr. Lewis broke down, sobbing into his hands.
“They shot my baby,” he yelled a mournful cry.
My liquid insides drained out of me. I tried to keep my body together, to stay whole. I tried to think of what Reyna would do if the situation had been reversed. She’d probably be at my side ready to heal me. She’d be strong. That’s what I had to be. I had to be strong for Reyna.
“Where is she? Can I see her? She’s gonna be okay, right?”
Mr. Lewis shook his head. “She’s dead, Son. She’s dead.”
Chapter 36
I think I passed out. I know it sounds corny, but I dreamt Reyna was running to me across a field of flowers wearing her white wedding gown. My wheelchair melted away and I was able to run to meet her. We embraced and made love wrapped in the sun’s arms. I wanted to open my eyes and see her staring at me as she often did when we slept together. She liked to watch me sleep. Instead, when I opened my eyes I saw Stu standing over me crying. He wiped tears from his face as quickly as he could and cleared his throat.
“Do you want some water? Can I get you anything?” He sat down next to me on my makeshift dining room bed and grabbed my hand. My fifteen-year-old brother looked so much older to me now, like he had aged ten years in the past ten minutes. His black hair contrasted even more sharply to his pale skin than normal. And the dark circles around his eyes gave him somewhat of a ghostly effect.
I grabbed his hand firmly and pulled him toward me. “I need you to tell me it’s not true. Tell me she’s not dead and that I’m still getting married today.”
Stu contorted his face and pressed his eyes shut with his free hand as if trying to force the tears back in.
“Oh, God why?” he cried before succumbing to another onslaught of tears.
I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. It was like I had died. It should’ve been me. It was supposed to be me. I should have died on that football field two weeks ago. That way I wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that Reyna, the love of my life, was gone. I should have died first. I imagined her arms around me and staring into her comforting eyes as I drew my last breath. I could live with that idea. I couldn’t live with this. I couldn’t live with the reality that she had died before me. And she died alone. I wasn’t even there for her as some misguided cop took her away from this earth and from me.
I turned away from Stu and stared at the wall.
***
Nov. 25, 2008
“You have to eat, Scottie. You haven’t eaten in two days. You have to eat so you can take your medicine.” Those were the next words I remember anyone saying to me. I did need to take my medication. Pain ravished my body, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that consumed me.
I groaned my refusal and continued obsessively studying my dining room wall. I knew every solitary crack of plaster, every bump in paint. A little while longer and I’d be able to see through the wall.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Scott. I loved her too, you know. And I love you. I can’t lose you too. I need you. I can’t get through this without you. I —” Stu stopped short as my mother’s footsteps battered the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Stu spat at her. They’d probably had several arguments in the past few days that I was unaware of. No one stood up to Sam like Stu. Even at my healthiest, I was no match for her. Stu, though slight physically, was a formidable opponent verbally.
“I need some air. I’m going for a run.”
“How can you go jogging at a time like this? Your daughter-in-law is dead and your son is not far behind. Look at him. Look at him!”
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it. I can’t bring her back to life.”
“You cold-hearted, selfish, bitch. I didn’t think you could get any worse, but apparently I don’t know you well enough.”
“I tried to talk to him. I don’t know what else to do.” I didn’t remember talking to her. Either she was lying or I was just that out of it. I guess both were plausible possibilities.
“Why don’t you try being his mother for once in your pathetic life instead of his personal trainer? Tell him you love him. Or at least take him to a doctor. He’s not eating, drinking, or taking his medicine. He can’t go on like this.”
There was a pause in which I thought maybe, just maybe, my mother had a change of heart or somehow managed to grow a heart. But then I heard the front door slam and her sneakers beat the pavement of the porch.
Stu yelled some obscenities after her, and then stormed into the kitchen where he proceeded to throw a slew of plates and glasses around.
***
Nov. 26, 2008
“Her funeral’s today,” were the next words Stu said to me. I assumed it was the next day, but there was no way I could be sure. “You have to go.” His voice was a plea. I had driven my brother to pleading. I imagined he was on his knees, but I didn’t turn around to see. I think I grunted something then closed my eyes.
Seconds later, I was being lifted off the bed. Someone had pulled me up from the armpits. Had I lost so much weight that even Stu could lift me? When the person tossed me over their shoulder like a bag of Brussels sprouts, I knew it couldn’t have been Stu.
Sam proceeded to climb the stairs with me over her shoulder. It didn’t occur to me to protest. I had no idea what she was planning on doing to me. Did she think she could get me to take a run on the treadmill? Maybe do a few reps on the rowing machine? I thought she had lost her mind. My thoughts were confirmed when she set me down in the shower and turned the freezing cold water on me.
After the initial shock of the cold water, I quickly became numb. I felt nothing physically or emotionally. I stared into my mother’s steel blue eyes as she slapped my cheeks trying to get a reaction out of me.
“What are you doing?” My voice was stale from lack of use. I had to force the words out of my dry throat.
“We gotta get you cleaned up. You have to go to this funeral. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t say good-bye to her. Trust me. I know about living with regret.”
I let my head fall back against the tile and closed my eyes. I just wanted her to go away. Why couldn’t she leave me alone? I wanted everyone to leave me alone. Nothing mattered anymore.
Even if I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t go. I opened my eyes and looked down at my pathetic, wilting, ineffectual legs and then rested my head on the wall again.
“Look at me. I can’t even wash myself. I can’t let her see me like this. I can’t go.”
My mother breathed heavily either from the exertion of carrying her 200 pound son up a flight of stairs or from the anxiety of watching me in such despair.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, Scott.” She plopped down on the bathroom floor and sighed. After resting her head in her hands for a moment, she looked at me and said, “This is supposed to be the part when I say something inspirational and you have an epiphany and I save
your life, but I don’t know what that something is. I don’t know what to do.” She banged her fist into the wall. She felt like a failure and I could tell it scared her to death. There was no chance she could win in this situation. “I know I haven’t been the best mother,” she continued, her voice softer, almost kind. “But all I know is sports and competition and going for the gold. Reyna was your gold, okay? Loving her was your greatest accomplishment. She made you happier than any sporting event you’ve ever had in your life. That’s pretty special, Scott. Nothing can take that away. Not even death.”
I lifted my head and stared at my mother. I was shocked. This was probably the longest conversation we’d ever had that didn’t directly pertain to sports.
“I’m sorry I never accepted her when she was … before she … you know. And I don’t know how you’re supposed to get through this, how you’re supposed to go on. But let me tell you something, Scott Kincaid, you will not quit on me. You’re not giving up on life till God takes you out of the game. Even then, I’ll fight for extra innings for you.”
***
I sat in the front row of the church next to Mr. Lewis. My mother sat on the other side of him and actually held his hand. The preacher’s words that drew emotion filled “hallelujahs” and “praise hims” just bounced off my ears. I felt deaf and blind except for the sight of Reyna’s lips peeking out from the coffin. I wanted to kiss those lips. Was it disgusting that I wanted to kiss my dead wife’s lips? It didn’t matter because that was what I wanted more than anything. Some tiny part of me thought that if I kissed her she’d come back to life like in those stupid fairytales.
I kept staring at her lips even as people filed past me and offered their condolences. Sometimes I even moved my head to look around a person that momentarily blocked my view. A strange sensation crept through my body beginning in my toes and rising. I thought it was muscle spasms caused by the Lupus, but instead of feeling like a painful annoyance, they felt kind of energizing. Before I knew it, I stood from my chair. I walked to the coffin and leaned upon it as I looked down on my sleeping beauty. She was finally sleeping. At peace and sleeping.
Nothing Else Matters Page 17