Remember Us

by Lindsay Blake

  It was, quite simply, the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard.

  That’s when I knew it would end in everything or it would end everything. Either way, it was everything.

  He moved his fingers in a half wave. And with that, he caught a cab and rode away like it didn’t even matter.

  18

  August

  Bernice

  We were back in Omaha. It had been two nights since Benjamin drove the four of us the 500 miles straight from Chicago to Omaha.

  The four of us shared the Hamilton house for one whole day, ending the chapter as we’d begun it, with hours spent around the dining room table and out in the garden. It sounds romantic but it wasn’t. We were all out of sorts, exhausted, and short with each other.

  Benjamin had left late the afternoon before and should already be back home. Charlie was back in Europe, ramping up for his next photo session, and Reese would follow in a couple of days. My friends had told me it was always this way with kids—they needed you voraciously until they didn’t. I told myself it would all be okay, it was time for Carl and me to make our new life once and for all. He’d arranged for two dozen roses to be delivered to me yesterday, and promised he would follow it up with a nice dinner on the town after Reese left.

  “But, seriously, we need to get this snoring under control,” I said once Carl woke up. “I need to consult Maya about her oil stash. I could lather it on you.”

  “That would be fun.” Carl ran his finger over my arm.

  “Or maybe I can sew you a mouth harness to wear at night.”

  “But then how could I do this?” He pulled me close until all the inches of me fit into all the inches of him. He clasped my face and kissed me so deeply moonbeams shot out of my head and my toes.

  “Carl, I love you too.”

  “I’ll take an early retirement; the payout will be small but what is money compared to the hours I will have with you? I need to make the time count. We have years of life to catch up on, and not enough time to do it.” His eyes held sorrow.

  “We do. We do.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. It was still difficult to imagine all we’d missed.

  “We can set our sights on making each day better than the last. By the time we’re eighty, we’ll be sailing up the Seine.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “The kids won’t be able to catch up, even if they tried.” He kissed me, and I snuggled closer. When we were young, but still adults, we thought we knew what life was about. Now that we were heading toward old, we were realizing we’d barely begun to sort it. But one thing I knew for sure—I’d found the one my soul loved. All I’d ever wanted was right here in my arms, and I wouldn’t take him for granted ever again.

  “I’m heading to work this morning,” he said into my hair.

  “Stay with me a few more minutes.”

  “I can’t. Too much to do over there at the office.” He moved to kiss my head. “I promise I’ll spend all weekend in bed with you if you want.” Another kiss and he was gone before I could protest further.

  When I dragged myself out of bed, I headed straight to the kitchen. I’d missed cooking. Reese joined me two hours later, drawn in by the smell of baking butter.

  “I remembered you wanted hash browns so I made you a hash brown casserole.” I waved her to a stool.

  “I did? You did?” Reese sat at the kitchen counter and slumped her face onto her hands.

  “Yes, back on our road trip—on one of those first mornings at breakfast.” I forced myself to be patient.

  “Okay, right. Nice, thanks. Can you please give me another scoop?” She adjusted her bun and accepted the plate I held out. She was lucky her figure had held up decently for this long, but if I’d warned her once about the future, I’d warned her a thousand times. She had Aunt Naomi’s genes, and I’m sorry, but there’s no running away from that.

  Bless her heart.

  “Just make sure you’re getting some fresh air and exercise today, baby.” I eyed her plate. Rocky barked in agreement at our feet.

  I pulled more bacon out of the oven and studied my daughter until she spoke. “Hey Bernice, let’s go out and get coffee. I feel out of sorts and could use some caffeine.”

  Reese had always been an emotional eater, so I wasn’t surprised when she devoured the embarrassingly large serving of casserole and then asked for a coffee out. The girl liked her treats. I was only surprised she asked me to join her. I hardly dared breathe. I would unpack, sort, and clean later. It was the first time in decades my Reese had asked to spend time with me.

  “Baby girl, this is our day. Let’s make it shine.” My pocketbook was already in hand. “Rocky, you stay here. This is a ladies-only morning.” I gave him a cuddle.

  It was best to give her my wedding planning tips while she had something in her mouth anyway. She would be forced to listen and couldn’t sass back. Her wit will be endearing when she’s sixty, but now it’s plumb indecent.

  I also wanted to give her their first wedding gift: a Christmas wedding.

  Yesterday I called the Waldorf in New York to ask about a Christmas Eve wedding. I planned on paying the deposit this week and would pay the remainder of the balance by late fall. Lord knows at their prices I was only able to secure a 10 a.m. spot on Tuesday, December 21, not on Christmas Eve, so we’d have to make do with a brunch wedding. It wasn’t my first choice, but it was Reese’s, so we would make it work.

  Carl would wear his snazzy red bowtie and we would have “The Nutcracker” performed during their reception. Benjamin and Maya could wear the matching vests I’d sew them and pass out ginger cookies together. Everything in my gut pointed to this festive gathering.

  Charlie had told me they wanted bling, so I would give them all the bling Mama could bring. I would let my baby know on our morning out and wait for the waterworks. My Reese has always loved Christmas with all the twinkle lights and bells, and when she was five, she told Santa she wanted a Christmas wedding. I haven’t forgotten it for a single day since.

  I grabbed the keys before she could waddle off her stool and headed straight for the door, knowing she’d be right behind me.

  I remember planning my wedding with my mother. It was a fight every day of the week but Sunday, when we took a break from figuring out details. My secret weapon, of course, was that I was already married. Right when I’d be on the point of strangling her for sure, when she insisted that cream was tacky, only white would do, I’d take a deep breath and remind myself Carl was already my husband. If I needed to, I could walk right out the door and say, “Poo poo on you.” I wanted my big wedding so badly, I held out for it, using every ounce of self-control I possessed. I told my daddy I needed him to run interference now and again, but he chuckled and said, “Fat chance, little lady. You listen to your mama and do what she says, or I won’t be paying for this wedding of yours.” And I knew he wouldn’t.

  I was excited about my entourage of bridesmaids so I snapped to the line she laid down for me.

  I was the bride of the century: a blonde, classier Jackie Kennedy with a bit more tulle. My girlfriends and I talked about my wedding for the next ten years. We relived the glory of the petit fours, the fiasco of Aunt Loretta drinking three glasses of champagne. A girl’s wedding comes once in a lifetime, and I would throw my baby a party that would make Scarlett O’Hara herself jealous.

  This season of planning her wedding would be the yarn that wove us together, ameliorated the cavernous plain that stretched between us. Christmas was magic; weddings were full of love. Christmas was our happy place, and I knew in my bones this would be the bridge between me and my beautiful baby girl.

  I blinked back the tears. I’d done so many things wrong through the years, but I would do this one thing right.

  Reese

  We jumped into Dad’s truck. I’d grown fond of Ernie, but still—I’d be vetoing him for the foreseeable future. Bernice sat high behind the wheel as she navigated us into the drive-thru.

  �
�What can I get for you?” To say the overly excited voice was two decibels above annoying was generous.

  Bernice went first. “A grande two-pump sugar-free vanilla, two-pump sugar-free caramel, no water, extra hot, whole milk, no room, no foam chai.” I bit my lip—it made me happy when others got to experience the complicated layers comprising my mother.

  Bernice turned to me, and I leaned over her. “Tall Americano with whipped cream.”

  “Are you sure you want whipped cream? You do have a wedding dress to fit into.”

  I’d like to think my death stare would demoralize Darth Vader, but Bernice only boosted her shoulders. “I’m just saying.”

  I shook my head at her, relaxed into the seat, and closed my eyes. She put her hand on top of mine, and stroked my fingers with her thumb. Her touch was still familiar, even after all these years. I tensed up, but didn’t have the energy—or maybe the desire—to fight her efforts. I didn’t pull away. She still drove me crazy, but it felt more complicated these days. The fury was layered with something akin to fondness, mixed with a side of frustration and pity. I couldn’t let myself think about any of it or I might grow sentimental.

  We paid for our drinks, and turned back onto the road in silence. We drove two minutes before Bernice spoke up.

  “Baby, I have a surprise for you. Do you remember telling Santa all those years ago you wanted a Christmas wedding?”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, when you were five.” She glanced at me. “Well—”

  There was a screech, a blazing light. There were yells all around and searing pain. All I saw in every direction were flashes of bright, humming, the chaos of a crowd.

  Then, nothing.

  PART III

  19

  Reese

  Ben had been in Knoxville less than half a day when I called, and he didn’t believe me, wouldn’t believe me. When he dropped the phone, Maya picked it up to finish the conversation. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

  They made it to Omaha in ten hours instead of the usual thirteen and raced to where Dad and I sat side by side, unmoving and unspeaking on the porch swing. Rocky lay on my lap uncharacteristically quiet, like he knew something was wrong. When he whimpered, I whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” into his furry ear. I hadn’t yet cried. My arms were still covered in dried blood. Mine or hers, I didn’t know which.

  “I don’t understand. How could this have happened?” It was all Ben could say, over and over when he arrived, as I stared past him. There had been a dog—or maybe a cat—and a swerve so fast I flung my scalding Americano in all directions. There had been pain, a slowing of time, and an escalating feeling of horror. There was the car speeding in the other lane, but mostly there was the mangled body of my mother beside me.

  Maya hugged Dad. “It’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “She asked me to stay with her a few minutes longer, that was the last thing she asked me, and I couldn’t even do that. My darling bride, my beautiful one. I wait for her return for hours on end, but she never comes home,” Dad said, his eyes distant.

  I longed to channel comfort from my twin, my other half, but he was decidedly withdrawn. Instead he made arrangements, answered phone calls, ordered food.

  I retreated to our tree house in the backyard and waited for him to join me, but for once in our lives, he did not come. I was alone in the cold night.

  Maya came instead.

  “It’s okay, you can cry if you want.” She stroked my hair.

  “It’s not okay.” Nothing would be okay again. My voice was raw from holding back the flood of tears, my lips were broken from all the bites where I’d held in the pain.

  “I know.” Her voice was a breath in the cold black, and I put my head on her shoulder. I had never loved her more.

  “Why am I the one with only scrapes and bruises, and she…” I swallowed, stopped.

  “Shh.”

  “But why?” I whispered a minute or a lifetime later, the question of my life.

  “I don’t know,” Maya whispered back and wiped a tear from her own face. Why, why, why? All through the night, I sat with nothing left to give, and then she held me too.

  Someone who claimed to be a doctor rushed over and shouted orders to anyone who would take them.

  She was still alive, barely breathing, with wide eyes open, bleeding tears.

  I wanted to go to her, hug her, hold her, but found instead of feet, only lead.

  In those final moments, she had eyes only for me and I saw them say, I love you, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry for all those minutes. A beautiful, horrible melody on repeat that was both exactly what I wanted to hear and nothing like it.

  In those moments when my feet were glued, my gaze stuck too, I sent her the message back, in perfectly mirrored form. I’m sorry, I love you. I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry. And also, This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Don’t die, stop it right now.

  But she didn’t stop, and to the end, until her eyes closed for the last time, I saw her tell me again and again. I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry.

  Or maybe that’s simply what I wanted her to say.

  I woke from the nightmare multiple times a night. The sweat was cold, soaking my sheets, so I moved to the couch and stared at the textured ceiling until the sun rose and the birds sang.

  Night after night on repeat.

  I need to go back. It was all I heard as we made arrangements with the funeral home for her cremation, as we walked around like zombies, as the hours crept.

  I need to go back. I would put myself in the driver’s seat, let my mother be the one who walked away with one small bump and ten stitches.

  The doctor explained that although Mom didn’t die instantly, the shock would have taken away her sense of pain. The details meant little to me; she still died.

  Ben asked question after question. Dad chimed in with a few of his own, but I tuned them all out, staring over the talking mouths at the wall. When they wouldn’t stop, I drifted off to wait by the car, squinting up at the bright sky, wishing I could crawl into bed and wake up in a different decade, in another lifetime, in someone else’s body.

  Ben called Charlie for me and it was a whole day and a half later when we finally spoke. He finished at his set and raced to the airport, with nothing except his phone, wallet, and passport. But after a delayed flight in Madrid and a security mishap which lasted ten hours, two more days passed. I told him not to worry, to stay put, and I’d come once we closed out everything here. He didn’t love the idea, but I didn’t have the energy to be around anyone. No one at all. I said “Please” and he backed down.

  I couldn’t stand still. I went for long walks, which turned into runs, which turned into sitting at the park, which turned into more long walks.

  I wanted to crawl straight out of my skin.

  “Bernice wanted her ashes thrown to the four winds, a sensational ending for her time on this earth. And I will make sure she gets her final curtain call.” Dad had gathered us to make a plan.

  They asked me what I thought, but I couldn’t form ideas, let alone words. I shook my head and headed to the porch. After two hours of conversing about the logistics, Ben and Dad informed me we would spread her ashes at Lake Okoboji, a short drive from Omaha. It had been our cherished weekend getaway when we were young.

  “We’ll pack a picnic like old times and bask in the blue for hours on end,” Dad said, words waspy.

  Even though she always liked a show, we would forego a funeral as we didn’t want to see anyone or talk more than needed.

  On the appointed day, I stormed out to Ernie unapologetically in my pajamas. I had a passing thought about digging my skinny jeans out of my bag, but thought better of it. I’d woken abruptly from another nightmare and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

  When I reached the van I remembered again she was gone and the reason for this stupid trip.

>   Gone.

  Gone.

  I’d said it to myself so many times over the last few days the word itself started to look peculiar, like four strangers forced into a tight row of an airplane, awkward and unhappy about it.

  She would leave first. I grew angry all over again.

  Ben tucked me into the back seat beside Maya with a mound of blankets. He handed me a mug and commanded me to drink.

  Was I three? Was I an invalid? I pushed the snarky comments back inside my clenched teeth and held the mug on my lap with no strength to bring it to my lips.

  I was tired of the guilt. Tired of the regret that threatened to suffocate me.

  I was simply tired.

  When sleep eluded me, I pressed against the window and let the tears fall. The radio played, I cuddled Rocky, and Ben drove. When we arrived, we stumbled out of Ernie, rag doll style. The earth held still and the air rolled around us. For once, time slowed to a complete stop but at the one destination I did not want, would never want. I couldn’t let myself believe the urn in Dad’s hands contained all that was left of my mom on this earth. I didn’t want to think about the fact we were about to scatter the minuscule bits of her we had left.

  We stood in a line, unsure.

  When Dad took us each by the shoulders and insisted we “take a moment as a family to say something nice,” I puked. Heaving, grieving, I could not stop, and I didn’t want their solace. The ground beckoned me, and I sank to it.

  Ben didn’t attempt to comfort me or anyone. Instead, he seeped with grief like a sieve under a waterfall. He clung to Maya’s hand, reeked of sorrow and regret.

  Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Mom, I want you to know that I loved you. I never said it enough. I want you to know I’ll always love you. I want you to know you were a good mom, that I understand…” The sobs billowed through his chest, and he fell into Maya.

  Dad put an arm around the two of them.

  “Bernice. You were my best years. My shining star, so vibrant and full of life. I have never met anyone else like you, and I have loved you always. You have been the wife of my youth and of my middle age too, a double blessing I do not take lightly. I know you won’t stop dancing, so please save a spot on your dance card for me. I’ll meet you in some faraway dawn for our next masquerade.”