The Sound of Light

by Claire Wallis

  Charlie’s boy-crazy and impervious to parental advice, even though I sure would like to give her some. I was exactly like those boys she runs around with when I was sixteen. I know what they want. And it ain’t a conversation. It’s a real shame her momma’s departure left Charlie so wounded. I know she’s turning to those boys for artificial affection. I try my best to give her love and tell her how much she deserves a perfect life, but I don’t think she cares to aim that high. I think she’s managed to convince herself she doesn’t deserve one.

  K’acy, on the other hand, is trouble for entirely different reasons. She can’t keep her fingers off the Music Man StingRay bass guitar I got her for Christmas. She’s got her heart set on being a musician, practicing every second she isn’t in school or doing homework. Mr. Simpson, the music teacher at Terrebonne High, gives her lessons twice a week. I pay for them by tuning, repairing, and polishing the school’s instruments once a month. K’acy’s getting pretty good, and someday soon, the guys and I are gonna invite her to play with us down at Jackson’s on a Saturday night. It’ll be her first gig, and I’m gonna be about as proud as a man can be when she lays down her first riff. The girl’s got a light around her that’ll just about blind you, especially if you don’t see her coming.

  It’s nearly seven o’clock by the time I get home from work, and when I open the front door, K’acy’s standing there, wearing a smile the size of the entire bayou. We haven’t been to church since Louise left, but the girl is dressed in her Sunday best. Behind her, on the dining room table, are a pair of lit candles and three empty plates. They’re flanked by a bunch of Louise’s fancy silverware and crystal that hasn’t seen the light of day in over six years. From the smell wafting out of the kitchen, I’m guessing my girls made me a pot of Creole jambalaya for my birthday dinner.

  My mouth is watering before I even get my boots off.

  When I hug K’acy and thank her and her sister for the surprise, she rolls her eyes at me, all dramatic and sassy, and tells me Charlie didn’t have anything to do with the jambalaya. She says her sister never even came home from school today. Granted, not coming home until nine or ten at night is pretty par for the course with Charlie, but still…she knows it’s my birthday. And she knows we always celebrate together. Just usually not with candlelight and crystal.

  After we eat, I tell K’acy her sister missed one hell of a meal and the credit is all hers. The jambalaya tasted just like her momma’s, but she doesn’t look happy when I point it out. Instead, she tells me she seasoned it differently and used better sausage than Louise ever did. I apologize for my error and tell her again how delicious it was.

  She sings happy birthday, and I blow out the candle on a single chocolate cupcake, wishing yet again that my girls would quit growing up so fast. Then K’acy slides a small package across the table toward me. It’s wrapped in blue paper and topped with a light green bow. She’s smiling another bayou-sized smile, silently telling me how proud she is of whatever’s in this box. I pull off the bow and tear open the paper.

  Inside the box is a man’s ring. My wedding ring, to be exact. It’s another thing that hasn’t seen the light of day in over six years. At least I didn’t think it had. I pick up the ring and examine it carefully. K’acy’s had it polished smooth and then re-engraved. On the inside of the ring, where a circle of words used to say Louise & Robert 5/22/89, it now says Love You Daddy 9/14/04. On the outside of the ring, a string of tiny musical notes are etched into the metal. I look at K’acy, and she confirms they’re from the chorus of a song I’ve been singing to my girls since the day they were born, Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong My Love Is.”

  I can’t stop the emotion from coming out of me, and before I know it, I’m a grown man who’s crying like a sappy granny and hugging on his teenage daughter like she’s the Lord Jesus himself. I’m grateful to K’acy for hugging me back. And for confirming that the shot-in-the-dark fathering I’ve been doing for all these years has worked on at least one of my girls.

  I put the ring on my finger, and tell my beautiful, soulful daughter how much I love it. And her.

  CHAPTER 19

  No one moves. Not even Marie. We’re all frozen, holding our collective breaths and waiting for someone else to move first. Adam doesn’t reply to the man, at least not with his voice. It’s his posture and facial expression that are screaming back at him. The anger and bitterness are undeniable, but there’s also fear and vulnerability in his stance. It’s almost as if Adam is holding something in and letting something out at the very same time.

  A thick smirk quickly settles across the man’s face. And it’s not a friendly or sheepish or sassy smirk. It’s one that says he’s proud to have just opened some kind of personal Pandora’s box and tossed a dense slab of complication into Adam’s world. The word diabolical pops into my head. I don’t know who the man is, but I have a feeling something is about to change for Adam. I have a feeling the man is about to mess with everything.

  “What are you doing here?” Adam’s voice is a mixture of disdain and acrimony. He’s trying to steady his voice, but I can hear the anger and fear in it. The smirk leaves the man’s face as he thrusts his hands into his pockets, as if he’s suddenly in need of something important housed inside of them. Only he doesn’t pull anything out. Instead, his hands sit motionless inside the pockets. The posture exudes cockiness and self-importance.

  “I’m here to see my mother. Why else would I be here?” He shrugs. It’s Winston Sinclair, the giant dickhead, up close and in person. Wow. “It seems to me the better question would be, what are you doing here?” Adam glances over at me for the briefest fraction of a second before his father adds something else. “Your mother and I have been looking for you. You could’ve called.”

  Just then, Sondra walks into the room with Mrs. Rupert on her arm. They’re chatting about yesterday’s worship service. Pastor Glickson comes every Sunday morning to provide for our residents who can’t make it to church anymore. Mrs. Rupert is hard of hearing so Sondra’s voice is even louder than usual. I hear her say something about Daniel and the lions as they walk across the lobby. I look over and offer Sondra a quiet nod. She and I both turn toward Adam and his father at the same time. Mrs. Rupert starts talking. It’s the only noise in the room.

  Winston Sinclair turns and looks at Sondra first. Then, a second later, he looks at me. Our eyes meet, and I almost drop to my knees when I see it. He looks just like Adam, only older and more worn, and there is a deep stillness in his eyes. Like he’s lost.

  But that’s not what makes my knees want to buckle. It’s what I see inside that does that.

  It’s going to be bad, an ending no one deserves. No one. Not even a giant dickhead.

  Winston Sinclair is going to die soon. And he’s going to suffer. A lot.

  ADAM and his father disappeared down the hallway and into Ms. Sinclair’s room over a half hour ago. The door is closed, and despite my best efforts at repeatedly sauntering down the hallway to eavesdrop, I hear only muffled voices.

  Another ten minutes pass before the door opens and Adam’s father walks out. I’m loitering near Ms. Sinclair’s room, folding Mr. Rauch’s blanket for the fifth time, when he walks past me. Winston Sinclair keeps his chin up and his eyes straight ahead. He doesn’t acknowledge my existence with a smile or a nod or even a sideways glance. Once he turns left at the end of the hallway, presumably to head back to the lobby or the exit, I walk over to Ms. Sinclair’s room and peek into the now open door.

  Adam’s back is to me, and he’s looking out the window, leaning forward with his hands resting on the windowsill. Ms. Sinclair is sitting in her recliner watching a cooking show on the television. She looks over at me as I walk into the room.

  “Why hello, dear! It’s lovely to see you again.”

  Adam turns around at the sound of her voice.

  “It’s lovely to see you, too, Ms. Sinclair. I just stopped in to see if there’s anything you need.” I clasp my hands in f
ront of me and smile at both of the Sinclairs in the room. Adam does not smile back.

  “No, dear, I’m fine. My son was here a few minutes ago, you know.”

  “You must be very happy to see him.”

  A huge grin settles across her face. Adam, on the other hand, is wearing a scowl.

  “I haven’t seen him in quite some time. He lives very far away.”

  “Yes, I understand he lives in Seattle. How nice of him to come visit with you and Adam.” I ignore Adam’s continued scowl and walk over and sit down on the corner of the bed. I want to see her closer, to make sure she’s really okay.

  “Oh Adam!” she says, turning to face him, her eyes lit with a surprising amount of emotion. “You should go now. You know how your father is. He’s not going to be very happy if you’re still here when he comes back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Gram.” Adam steps over to us and puts his hand on his grandmother’s shoulder, as if to reassure her about something. “Remember? I’m going to stay right here.”

  “Oh, yes, well…then you’d better at least get your homework done.”

  Adam’s eyes close briefly in frustrated acceptance. The scowl drops off his face and is replaced by sadness. “Yes, ma’am,” he says with resignation. He inhales a deep breath and looks straight at me. “Gram, do you mind if I step into the hallway with K’acy for a moment? I have something I need to ask her.”

  “Go ahead, dear.” Ms. Sinclair’s attention returns to the television as Adam and I head out into the hallway. He closes the door behind us as he runs a hand through his hair.

  “So, that was your dad, huh?”

  “The one and only.”

  “You look a lot like him.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Adam’s shoulders slump, and he looks down at his feet. “He wants to separate us again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wants to move her to Seattle. He says it’s so he can monitor her care better, but I know that isn’t the real reason.”

  Move her to Seattle? Seriously? Winston Sinclair just kicked “giant dickhead” up another notch. Anger wells in my chest, but I try my best to hide it.

  “What do you think the real reason is?”

  “I can guarantee you that, until he saw me here, there was no way in hell he wanted to take her back to Seattle with him. He probably came here to settle her affairs and make sure her will was in order or something. Then he was going to go back to Seattle and forget all about her again. But then he saw me here, and now, since he can’t control what I do anymore, he’s trying to control her instead.”

  I want to say something to make him feel better. I want to tell him Ms. Sinclair is not going anywhere. “If it helps, I doubt your gram’s doctors would approve of a relocation right now. She’s pretty fragile. Plus, patients like your grandmother need consistency in their care and seldom do well with relocations. With any luck, the doctors’ judgment will be all the convincing your father needs to let her stay right where she is.”

  “It takes more than luck when it comes to my father.” Adam crosses his arms over his chest and takes a deep breath. “He actually tried to kick me out of the room this afternoon. He said he wanted to talk with Gram alone, but I said I wasn’t going anywhere. I told him whatever he has to say to her, he can say to me, too. He walked out of here all pissed off, saying that when he gets back, I’d better be gone. I told him he can go to hell.”

  We’re both silent for a few moments while I carefully chose every word I’m about to say. “Just do me a favor with all this, please. Try not to upset your gram. I totally understand why you’re pissed off at your dad, but please don’t argue with him in front of her. Please try to keep things calm. She doesn’t need any more turmoil than what’s already happening inside of her own body. And, just as a heads-up, if any of the doctors or nurses ever hear or see you doing anything that disturbs a patient, they’ll kick you out of here in a heartbeat. Ms. Sinclair needs you here. Just please try to remember that.”

  He looks embarrassed, as if he knows he’s gotten a well-deserved scolding. Adam’s obvious shame makes me want to wrap my arms around him and assure him I know he’s just trying to do the right thing.

  “You’re absolutely right. I won’t do it again. And I won’t let him do it again either. I promise. And I’m sorry.”

  I nod in understanding, but I don’t say anything else. Instead, I think about what it will be like for Adam when the losses strike.

  It will be two this time; one that’s loved and one that’s not. But loss is loss, and it’s never easy, not even where there’s no love. It will be the first time in a long time I’ve been this close to it. But when the time comes, I’ll do what’s right. I’ll find a way around whoever is in that black car and make a trip to Latham Street, no matter how risky it is. I’ll handle what needs to be handled. Because I made that promise to myself a long time ago, and I’ll never forget it.

  THE REST of the afternoon passes without another appearance from Winston Sinclair, but when I walk into Pine Manor first thing on Tuesday morning, I see him sitting with Dr. Kopsey through the tiny, rectangular window in the family conference room’s door. He’s wearing a suit and tie, as if he’s at some kind of business meeting instead of a nursing home. Before I even take my jacket off, my phone is out of my purse and I’m sending a text to Adam.

  Your dad’s here.

  WHAT?

  He’s talking to Dr. Kopsey.

  What are they talking about?

  I don’t know. They’re in the conference room.

  I’m on my way.

  Ok. Drive safe.

  Mr. Sinclair and Dr. Kopsey are in the conference room for another fifteen minutes before they come out, shake hands in the hallway, and go their separate ways. Dr. Kopsey says hello as he passes me. Winston Sinclair does not. Instead, he strides by me quickly and heads straight for his mother’s room. I follow him into the open door and immediately begin to busy myself by pulling a clean sweater set out of her closet. Ms. Sinclair is still in her nightgown, sitting in her chair and watching the morning news. Mr. Sinclair stands in the corner of the room, watching us both.

  “Good morning, Ms. Sinclair. How was your night?”

  “Just fine,” she says, waving her hand at me dismissively. I lay the sweater set down on the bed and walk over to Adam’s father. As I offer him my hand and introduce myself, I try not to look at his eyes, keeping my focus on the tip of his nose. I don’t want to see it again.

  “Hi, I’m K’acy. I’m one of Ms. Sinclair’s nursing aides. You must be her son. She told me yesterday you’re here for a visit.” His grip is lighter than I expected, like he doesn’t really want to touch me. I don’t really want to touch him either, so it doesn’t bother me one bit.

  “Winston Sinclair,” he says. “And, yes, I’m her son.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. Your mother is a wonderful patient. We all enjoy having her here at Pine Manor.” I turn around and walk back over to the closet, pulling out a pair of pants as I talk. “She’s mentioned you’re from Seattle. How long are you in town for?”

  He’s unmoving and unfriendly. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

  “Well, welcome to Philadelphia. Is it your first time here?” I already know the answer, but I ask him anyway, just to kill some time until Adam gets here.

  “No.” One word is all he offers. So much for killing time.

  “I’m going to help your mom get dressed now. Do you want to wait in the hallway?” His brow furrows and his eyes narrow as if he’s suspicious of something. “Ms. Sinclair might be more comfortable that way.”

  “Yes, of course. Mother,” he says, directing his attention toward Ms. Sinclair, “I’m going to step into the hallway while this young woman helps you get dressed.” She waves her hand dismissively again, as if to shoo him off. He nods at me and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. I’d bet any money he’s already forgotten my name.

  As I help Ms. Sincla
ir out of her nightgown, I hear voices outside the door. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell one voice is Adam’s and the other is his father’s. The voices are low, and the tone is telling me there’s anger in both of them. I take my time getting Ms. Sinclair dressed and into her wheelchair, talking to her the whole time so there’s no chance of her hearing the discussion taking place on the other side of the door. I put her socks and shoes on last, retying them multiple times until I hear the voices settle. Before I wheel her out of the room, I brush her hair and fasten the gold owl brooch with the big, sparkly eyes to her sweater. On our way to the door, I tell her how beautiful she looks.

  I push Ms. Sinclair’s chair out the door, passing between Adam and his father, turn left, and start heading for the dining room, but the moment she sees Adam standing there, Ms. Sinclair brightens into a million shades of excitement. “Bradley! You’re here! I’m so thrilled. Did you hear the good news? He’s come back! Winston’s come back.”

  It only takes an instant for everything to change. Adam’s expression falls at the sound of Bradley’s name, and his father, who’s now standing behind me, begins to charge forward. He rushes past me in a burst of purpose and power, heading straight toward Adam. But before he gets there, Winston Sinclair turns on his heels to face Ms. Sinclair. He’s filled with some unknown rage, and as he bends forward to line his face up with hers, words come out of his mouth. They’re harsh and acidic.

  “That is Adam, Mother. Not Bradley. Jesus, do you really not remember?”

  I’ve changed my mind. Winston Sinclair does deserve the ending he’s going to get. He deserves every single second of what’s to come.