by JJ Liniger
“Wait.” She shook her head and placed her frail hand over my father’s which remained clasped on his chest. They rose and fell with each breath the machine gave him.
“Matthew, I love you so much. Your final words of encouragement gave me strength to never give up. You believed in me.” Her voice broke, and she rested her forehead on top of his hands. I couldn’t hear her well, but her lips moved. Teardrops landed on his skin and she wiped them away with her hair.
Her voice shook with emotion. “Now, it’s time for you to believe in yourself again. I’ve waited all these years to tell you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to cause Becton’s collapse. Rest in peace knowing everything’s okay. It’s over.”
She reached out and yanked on the cords to his ventilator. Immediately, the alarm sounded.
“Mom!” I fell to my knees and leaned into her. My body shook as I sobbed. Behind the whistled alarm, the beeps echoed like a metronome, but instead of a steady beat the space between each grew longer.
“Dad,” my voice trembled, “I wish I could ask you how to rebuild the city. I hope you know I’ve admired you and I love you.”
I felt a small hand on my shoulder and assumed it to be Samuel’s. His attempt at comfort was appreciated, but not enough. I arrived today knowing I needed to let my father go and thought I’d have to express that to Mom. I didn’t expect her to realize it on her own. Now that the crisis was over, she embraced the reality of his imminent departure.
Dad’s chest rose and fell for the final time, causing the beeping to become a solid note. My father had breathed his last.
Mother sobbed into his chest and I put my arm around her shoulders. My tears flowed freely, sharing Mom’s heartache. We grieved together, and it felt as if the tears would never stop.
“Dear God,” Samuel prayed. “This honorable man is now home with You. I’m asking for healing in the hearts of Gramma Porter and Dad. Thank you.” His words rang with truth. My father had gone to a better place.
After what felt like an eternity, the sobs turned to sniffles.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go home.” I kissed her wet cheek and used the crutch to draw myself to a standing position.
“This is my home,” she replied.
“It’s time to go back to our house.”
Mother blinked like the thought was foreign to her, then slowly nodded.
Samuel hugged Mom and spoke softly to her.
I called Dr. Worrell to tell her of Dad’s passing. She sounded surprised but proud of Mom while offering her condolences. She promised someone from the hospital would take the body. Most likely, staff members knew Dad could go at any time and were prepared for that moment. Mother kissed Dad’s bald head. I called to have the utilities turned back on before traveling silently across town.
The bumps of each pothole barely registered as my mind created a fog of protection around my heart. The broken buildings along the street reminded me of everything Becton had lost while I was away.
In front of the speckled blue home, Samuel gave me the crutches, and I hobbled inside the house. To prevent Mom’s allergies from bothering her, we cleaned from top to bottom, erasing the musty smell with a fresh lemon scent, but Mother still seemed uneasy.
“Mom, you can rest in my room if you want.”
“Where will you be?” she asked.
I shrugged, not caring. My pain pills had worn off and my head ached from lack of sleep. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” I hugged her and dropped onto the couch.
Samuel walked with Mother to my room and returned minutes later.
“I’d like to prop my foot up again, so I’ll stay here,” I told him. “Could you hand me that pillow? Give me a minute and I’ll show you to the guest room.”
He nodded and waited patiently before following me down the hall to the spare bedroom. It had too many flowers and lacy curtains for a teenage boy, but he smiled anyway. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I took the pills and swallowed them with water. I’m sure it was a placebo effect, but I instantly felt relief. As I plopped on the couch, my muscles relaxed.
Propping the throw pillows on the end of the couch, I stretched out my long legs. After shifting a bit, I found relief.
◆◆◆
Thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky swirled with brown clouds. I stood in the Becton cemetery before a mound of fresh dirt. I imagined speaking for funerals to be the hardest part of a pastor’s responsibilities but he gave comfort and wisdom to grieving families.
Today, the grieving family was mine, as my father laid buried beneath several feet of dirt. Knowing his death was imminent didn’t take away the pain and sadness of his absence.
Amazing how one person touched so many lives. There wasn’t a single man in the community who hadn’t sought his advice. He had the ability to dream big, but also to see the steps needed to make it become reality.
The past several days had been busy with funeral arrangements and testing for those who had been Taken to assess the extent of damage they had suffered as a result of Alex’s greed. The poisoning had consumed the lives of those left in Becton leaving a nervousness throughout the town.
Friends came together to celebrate the life of my father. Tears washed our faces. After the conclusion of the funeral, they congregated at the church to share a meal together. I felt uneasy. Not wanting to take the focus off of him, I remained at the cemetery.
The wind sucked the dry dirt into the air. The sweet smell combined with the moisture gathering in the clouds reminded me of my childhood. I’d ride on the tractor with my grandfather as he plowed the cotton fields.
I wandered from plot to plot, looking at dates of those who died from Alex’s craziness, as well as generations of family members. My heart felt heavy, and I needed to decide what to do next. Should I stay in Becton or return to New York? Bringing Mother and Samuel back to New York with me didn’t feel right, but neither did the thought of moving back here.
I limped through the cluster of headstones until the clouds reached their capacity and rain fell. It speckled the slacks and shirt I had borrowed. The doctor gave me a tight bandage and special boot to walk in instead of crutches and told me to keep it dry. Offering a final look at my father’s resting place, I saw something dark scurry to it. Animals littered the open fields.
Something was inside the graveyard with me. My eyes darted about, trying to see through the rain falling from the dark clouds. My mouth felt dry as I tried to swallow. If somebody was going to harm my family, they would’ve done it years ago.
I waited for it to move again. Crouching next to a headstone, I heard a mumble of words which ran together incoherently. It made me think of Monica. I had gone back to her cave and didn’t see signs of her or the alligator.
Though I should’ve felt relieved, instead I was disappointed. I wanted her to get help to return to being the person I had once known. Glimpses of the old Monica remained when she had visited me in the hospital. I still didn’t understand why I was so important to her. Maybe that motivation could be used to help her.
“Monica?” I said. Rain spattered my face. I used my hand to shield my eyes.
The sound of loose ground shifting, followed by mumbling led me to her. Small pebbles and leaves twisted through her wild curly locks. The scrubs I last saw her wearing were torn at the shoulder and knees. Dark russet streaks stained the light blue material.
“Shouldn’t come. Drago right,” she mumbled.
I stopped inching toward her to look for her scaly friend. Alligators were masters of the stealth approach before attacking. The call of a black bird made me jump, and I gave it a glare. I didn’t need imaginary dangers keeping me away.
“Monica, you don’t belong out here.”
She nodded and scampered closer, resting on the balls of her bare feet, her hand placed on the curve of her grandmother’s headstone.
Maria Gonzales provided Monica with a peaceful home and a place of rest, something her own parents couldn’t do.While in college a car crash had taken her life.
The date engraved on the stone showed it was days before Samuel’s birth. What made Monica go over the edge to become so crazy? The tight bond being broken with her grandmother would’ve hurt a sane Monica but if she was teetering on the brink, it could’ve broken her.
“She wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.” Monica frowned at the headstone, catching my reference. “The poison wasn’t your fault or—.”
“No! My fault. After party, should have talked to you. Should've told you when had baby. Should've kept him. Should have…” Tears overwhelmed her, and she curled into a fetal position on the ground. Her body shook as she sobbed.
Had she regretted her decision before now? Her true emotions became impossible to see through the mad woman she had become. I never understood if she comprehended the lies spread regarding the fall of Becton. Had she been made to feel responsible the same way I had been? Seeing her brokenness, I saw her humanity, too.
I limped closer, and she didn’t move away, which I took as a good sign. Her strange movements made me feel on edge, but I chose to ignore the paranoia inside. If I wanted her to believe Becton would accept her again, it needed to start with me.
As she cried, I sat next to her, taking her hand in mine. “It’s over. We are putting that behind us, okay?”
During the moments at the hospital, she seemed normal. She allowed the doctors to take her blood to treat me. As I thought about it, the more significant that gesture became. She still loved me.
“Can you tell me why you left the hospital so suddenly?” I asked. She shook her head, so I continued,“ You’re special to me, but I need time to get to know you again. We’ve changed over the years. . After I left Becton, I asked about you. I was told you left, so when I came back I didn’t expect to see you again. Then, to find out we have a child and you’re here… it’s a lot to take in.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I not that person.” She ducked her face down and brought her hair back to cover her jaw. The alligator teeth she had stuck to her face with tree sap peeled from her skin due to the falling rain.
“You could be. It’s up to you, Monica. I know what it's like to have people look at you with hatred and uncertainty. They don’t know what to do with me, either.”
“Unsure… so many people.” She twisted her hands in her lap.
“How about starting with only Mom, Samuel and me?”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Drago?”
I shook my head. “This isn’t the right place for him. Let him go so he can be with his own kind.”
Tears leaked out once again as she agreed. She’d miss her scaly friend. We sat in silence. I imagined she was used to a non verbal companion and felt comfortable without words.
Would my new family be comfortable in New York City? It was dramatically different from Becton. Monica had spent time in Houston. She’d be better prepared for New York than Mom or Samuel. Neither of them had ever left west Texas. He needed friends, a good school, and a stable environment.
Could I provide that? Could Monica? It seemed unlikely. Would a new start be better for us?
Rebuilding the town felt like the right thing to do, but didn’t know if it was possible. My dad would know. I wished I could ask him. I was robbed of being with him due to being away. Clearly, it was what my father wanted. I frowned and my eyes teared up.
Monica noticed and hugged me. The gesture felt appreciated.
“Thanks for being here with me,” I said, looking again at where my dad laid.
“Welcome.”
The rain picked up to a steady pace and our shirts became soaked and mud pooled around our legs. Monica seemed unfazed as this was normal for her. I wouldn’t have minded, except I had to keep my bandage clean and dry.
“I need to go back to the church. Wanna come with me?” I asked.
Uncertainty flashed across her face as her eyes widened. She took a deep breath before replying, “Okay.”
It was a step in the right direction. We arose and walked together to the church. Monica placed her arm around my waist, similar to when I had been injured. I felt her strength as I limped along. Together we entered the red brick building, rain smacked against the stained glass windows.
“I wondered if you’d be smart enough to get out of the rain.” Tiffany smiled at me, but her eyes narrowed on Monica.
“I have my moments.” I ran a hand through my wet black hair. Monica’s hand twitched at her side as she kept her other arm around me. I felt her anxiety. “You guarding the door?” I asked.
“Not exactly. When it started raining, I thought I’d come save your stupid butt from getting soaked.”
“It isn’t stupid, but thanks anyway.” I smiled at her.
“Looks pretty dumb to me.” Tiffany nodded to my behind.
“Very funny.” I laughed.
“I try,” Tiffany said.
I stepped closer to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Tiffany answered quickly making me doubt her.
Monica’s head darted from one side of the room to the other in constant inspection. Her uneasiness made me appreciate the friendly banter with Tiffany. If Monica made her nervous, she didn’t show it.
“Mom!” Samuel called out with a wide grin on his face. His optimism became contagious as Monica looked back at him. “Come, I’ve been asking Grandma Porter about you.”
Monica glanced at me then back at Samuel.
“Go on.” I gestured in encouragement.
The boy took her by the hand and walked around the corner further into the church. His voice rose with excitement and slowly grew softer as they departed.
“How’s Mom?” I asked.
“She’s coming to grips with reality,” Tiffany replied.
“Do you think she knew his death was coming?”
“I think so, but honestly, it’s hard to tell. She spoke like he’s right there and would return to her at any moment. But she also had an urgency to help people that I never fully believed was only out of the goodness of her heart. Now, I think she desperately wanted to find the solution before Matthew couldn’t hold on any longer.”
I nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome. I hate to admit it, but our banter has grown on me and I’m beginning to like it.” Tiffany brushed her straight blonde hair from her shoulder.
“I like it, too. I’m strongly considering staying to help Becton rebuild. What do you think I should do?” She wasn’t my first choice for advice, but she’d be honest and what I needed.
Tiffany ran her hands along her black dress. “Trev, you have a habit of not seeing what’s right in front of you.”
“Then help me see it.”
“I can’t—” Her teeth left dents on her lower lip, a nervous gesture I hadn’t seen since high school. I’d see her at the library where we met to study, twirling her hair around her finger and nibbling on her lip.
“Come on, Tiff.”
Thunder rumbled outside as the rain spattered against the stained glass.
She kept her gaze upon the window, speaking quietly. “Because then I’d kiss you.”
“What?” I touched her shoulder, turning her to me to see if she might be teasing. “Why?”
Crimson flushed across her cheeks as she brushed my hand away. “Because, I should’ve fifteen years ago when I had a massive crush on you. All the studying we did, and the rivalry was because I wanted you to notice me, but you never did. I thought it was your relationship with Monica, but after that fell apart, there was nothing between us. You have no idea how hard it was for me when you left.”
I thought back to the time she mentioned, but I couldn’t see it. She was too smart, popular, and beautiful to be interested in me. Looking at her, I kept waiting for her to laugh and call me an idiot for considering what she had said to be
true. I wasn’t the naive high schooler like last time we were together, but I didn’t understand women.
“You’re right. I didn’t know.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “Women are so frustrating.”
She giggled. “So are men.”
Fair enough.
“Uhm, speaking of, any word on Alex?”
Tiffany frowned, making me regret bringing him up. She shook her head and shrugged. “Nothing directly from him. Dr. Easton is going to testify against him, so it should be an easy legal win. He’ll be in jail a long time. I’m filing for divorce and want to move on as soon as I can. I hope everyone else can, too. I’m ready to show that I’m not a monster like Alex.” Tears filled her eyes. She pulled a wrinkled tissue from her dress pocket and dabbed her eyes and nose.
I guessed this wasn’t the first time she cried over Alex’s betrayal and wanted to help her. Hugging her tightly, she released some of her pent up sorrow. When her sobs subsided, I handed her a couple fresh tissues.
“This is hard,” she whispered.
“I’m sure. But you can do it. You’re strong.”
“I hope so.” She blew her nose and fixed her make up.
“Well, good luck.” I winked to lighten the mood. She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled back at me. A lifetime together with Tiffany? No, I never saw it, but maybe it was still a possibility.
“Come, join the rest of us,” she said, taking my hand.
“Alright.”
I walked with her to one of the church’s classrooms. The assortment of foods made my stomach rumble in anticipation. Rectangular tables formed a U with chairs on either side, allowing close to 100 people to fellowship together. They had survived Becton’s crisis. I watched the few families and other members from the area supporting my mother in the passing of my father.
Multiple cards mailed from those who weren’t in attendance were stacked in front of Mom. A visual reminder of my parents’ impact. I felt a lump forming in my throat. Tiffany gave me a hug which I returned. She joined her three kids, keeping her youngest from eating all the cake by himself. Samuel and Monica sat next to each other with plates of food.
Through the window an old John Deere tractor sat along the side of an abandoned cotton field. With proper care, it would be used to harvest again. The smell of fresh tilled dirt promised a new beginning. Strong stocks of twigs will one day hold little boles of cotton, stretching for miles, looking like a blanket of snow.