Hannah Myers was music.
And without her, life was a mistake.
* * *
I headed home that night with my mind made up. I would tell Dad that I had to go back to Alabama and look after Mom for a few weeks. I had to know that she would be okay. But, when I stepped inside, I saw the glow from the black and white comedies playing on the television. Dad sat in front of it with his dinner sitting on his TV tray, and beside him was another tray with my dinner.
My chest tightened as the nurse walked up to me, explaining that she would be back the next evening, and that she’d left all of Dad’s medicine labeled for him to take in the morning. She left and closed the front door behind her.
“I made you the fried chicken TV dinner and a Salisbury steak one—I wasn’t sure which one you liked more,” he said, moving a spoon around a bowl of soup in front of him. I sat down next to him on the couch as we watched the comedies together.
He didn’t eat much of his soup, but when he did lift his hand, I watched it shake repeatedly. I offered to help him, but he huffed and grumbled as always.
Eventually he placed his spoon down, defeated, and nodded toward me.
I fed him the soup, and I was back to square one with no clue how I could leave him here to go back home.
“You know that song you played at the showcase? The first one?”
“Yeah. ‘Love You Till The End’ by—”
“The Pogues.” He nodded, his eyes still on the television screen. “It was mine and your mom’s wedding song.”
The pieces of my mother that I’d never truly understood were slowly coming together.
“What happened to you two? Why did you split up?”
He cringed and rubbed his temple. “I messed up. Your mother and I got into a big fight one night, then I got drunk and made a move on Camila Watson in a bar. That’s why her husband can’t stand me, and that’s why Hannah left me.”
“Did you love Camila?”
“No. No. I was stupid and young, an asshole who made a bad mistake. It turned out my mistake was enough for your mom to pack up and leave me. I don’t blame her, though. She had her anxiety and always worried I would leave her for someone else. At that point I didn’t know how sick she was, about her mental health. I should have fought, though. I should’ve fought for her.”
“Did you love her?” I asked.
He sniffled and cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything else until he was ready for bed. I walked him to his bedroom and even though he argued that he didn’t want me to help him change into his pajamas, he allowed me to do so.
When he was settled into bed, I went to turn off his lamp, and heard him mutter, “Until the end.”
Denise called me that night to tell me Mom was okay. She was still in the hospital, but she was doing much better.
That night I cried myself to sleep.
* * *
On Christmas day, I headed to the woods at six in the morning, just like every day before. For a second I thought I was still dreaming when I saw Dad standing next to the tree house. He stared at the ladder that led up to it. Each rung was covered in snow. Dad’s hands were stuffed into his sweatpants pockets.
“You need a coat?” I asked, taking in his white T-shirt that was now too big for him from all the weight he’d lost.
He shook his head.
I walked up next to him, and we stared at the tree’s ladder together.
“You remember when we put that ladder up?” he asked. “You were nine and you had me test out each step to make sure they were sturdy.”
“They weren’t.” I laughed.
He laughed, too. It was weird how the sound of his laughter made me want to smile and break down all at once. “I thought I broke my behind when I fell. After you went back home, I had ice packs taped to my ass.”
“They’re sturdy now,” I said, nodding toward them.
“Just a little old, though. We should’ve spent more time up there.” He rubbed his fingers on the back of his neck, kicking off the snow on his shoes. His frail body was shivering as a cold wind passed through the tree branches.
“You shouldn’t be out here in the cold,” I scolded.
“Last time I checked, I was the parent, not you,” he scolded right back. He pushed the back of his hand against his nose and looked away from the tree house.
With a weighted sigh, he spoke again, “Listen. You’ve been too much for me to handle and I think it’s best that you go back to stay with your mom or aunt or something.”
His words stung, causing me to step backward. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Lance told me about your mom.”
“She’s doing better,” I said. “She’ll be fine. I can stay here and help take care of you.”
“You don’t understand, do you?” he hissed. “I don’t want you, Levi. I don’t want you here.” He wouldn’t look at me. “Your plane leaves tonight at seven-thirty. Lance will take you to the airport.” He turned and walked back toward the house, leaving me standing there, confused and hurt.
He’s abandoning me, again.
I followed him into the house, but he shut me out by locking himself in his office. My fist pounded against the door. “Let me in, Dad!” I shouted, the back of my throat burning. “Let me in!” I begged.
I pleaded, but he didn’t relent, and in the pit of my stomach I knew he wasn’t going to let me back in.
* * *
I showed up twice to Aria’s house. The first time, I saw her sitting in the living room with her family, laughing as they opened gifts together. Everyone was filled with life, and I didn’t want to ruin their Christmas, so I went back to Dad’s and waited. All of my bags were already packed.
I sat in my bedroom staring at the clock on the dresser.
4:35 P.M.
Lance and Daisy had said they would be there at five to pick me up and drive me to the airport.
I picked up the two CDs I’d made for Aria and baby Mango and slid them into my coat pocket. I knew the CDs weren’t the best or most expensive Christmas gifts, but I hoped they would like them. As I walked over to Aria’s, I tried to figure out the best way to tell her I was leaving. I wanted her to know that no matter what, we could figure out a way to make us work, even if we were eight hundred miles apart.
39 Aria
Late on Christmas Eve I listened to the sound of Dad’s truck pulling into the driveway. Rushing to my window, I saw him unloading his suitcases. He came back. The snow was falling and Mom stepped outside to meet him. For a while they just stood with their foreheads pressed together, holding one another.
The next morning when Grace woke up and saw Dad sitting downstairs, she leaped into his arms, more excited to see him than all of the gifts under the Christmas tree. Then of course, she saw those gifts, and dived right in.
Things felt as if they were finally falling back together—into our new normal at least. I hadn’t had a chance to call or text Levi yet, but every few minutes he crossed my mind. After our late lunch, I tossed on my boots and winter coat to head over to his place to give him his Christmas gift.
As I opened the front door, I was taken aback when I saw James standing on the front porch with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “What are you doing here?” I asked, confused.
He snickered, his cheeks red from the cold. “Merry Christmas to you, too.” I didn’t reply. His fingers ran through his messy hair. There were heavy bags under his eyes, which matched his exhausted stare. “Look, can we talk?”
With caution, I nodded and stepped onto the porch. I rested my hands on top of my stomach and shifted back and forth from discomfort; my back had been killing me lately. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
“I broke up with Nadine,” he blurted out.
“You what?”
“Well, she broke up with me. I told her about the baby.”
“You WHAT?!?!” I shouted, the back of my throat burning.
“Stop screaming,
will ya?!” he scolded, scrunching up his nose.
“Wh-wh-why would you do such a stupid thing?! Oh my God, James! What the heck is the matter with you?!” My heart rate was picking up as my breaths grew short.
“I think we should keep him.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll sign up for community college. I’ll get a job. Or two jobs. We’ll make this work. We can get an apartment—”
“Oh my gosh. Are you drunk? Please tell me you’re drunk because you are talking like a freaking lunatic!” I was trying my best to convince myself that he was pulling an April Fool’s Day joke a few months early, but the way his eyes were begging along with his words told me that it was far from a joke. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“We can do this, Aria.”
“No,” I corrected him. “We can’t. That’s the thing. He’s not ours anymore, James.”
“I did research,” he explained, stepping closer to me, making me nervous. “A few sites said that the father has to give his rights for the adoption.”
“Which you did.”
“But now I’m changing my mind. People change their minds.” He reached for my hands, and I stepped backward.
“Don’t touch me,” I ordered.
“I want to be with you, Aria.” His words were wrapped in false dreams and tainted lies. “Haven’t you thought about it? About keeping him?”
Sometimes.
“Please,” he said, glancing behind me before moving in to kiss me.
As our lips lingered, I whispered harshly, “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He stepped back, and I listened to the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Turning around, I saw Levi standing at the end of the sidewalk with his hands wrapped around two gifts wrapped with newspaper. “Levi. How long have you been there?”
His blue Chucks kicked back and forth around the snow. “Long enough to find out that he’s the father. That he wants you. That he kissed you.”
“It’s not what—” I started, but James cut in.
“It’s kind of a family issue, man. If you could get lost, that would be great.”
“James!” I shouted. My eyes shot back to Levi’s, which were filled with rejection.
“Yeah, of course. I just wanted to drop off yours and Mango’s Christmas gifts.” He tapped the gifts against the palm of his right hand before he walked up and handed them to me. “Merry Christmas, Art.”
He turned and started to walk away. I went to follow, but James grabbed my wrist, halting me. “Let him go.”
I ripped my hand from his hold and flung my hand across his cheek. “I said don’t touch me.”
“What’s going on out here?” Dad asked, stepping onto the porch. His eyes landed on James. “Hey, buddy. Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks, Mr. Watson. You too.”
“You looking for Mike?”
I cringed and stepped toward Dad. “No, he was actually just—”
“I’m the father,” James said, cutting me off once more.
Dad didn’t process his words right away. He stood still, blinking with narrowed eyes. “I beg your pardon?” Oh my God. We’d been so close to having a perfectly decent Christmas after months of being a broken family, so close to being somewhat normal.
“I’m the one who slept with—”
“Don’t say it,” Dad ordered.
“…Aria,” James finished. He obviously had no desire to respect anyone’s wishes this Christmas afternoon.
“What?” Mike said, standing in the doorway, staring at his best friend. His left hand had a dinner roll stuffed with ham, and his right was a solid fist. He stepped onto the porch, his chest rising and falling hard. “You slept with my little sister?!” His words were filled with blades and anger.
“Mike, man. It was an,” Mike’s fist slammed into James’ jaw, sending him falling to the porch, “accident,” James muttered, brushing the back of his hand against his mouth.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Mike shouted, lunging toward James. Dad grabbed Mike before he could do any more damage, and a stumbling James stood back up. “She’s my sister, you asshole!”
“Mike, chill out!” Dad said, his arms still gripped around his son, who was five seconds away from killing his best friend.
“I want to raise the baby,” James said, spitting out blood from Mike’s punch.
“Shut up,” I cried. “Stop saying that.”
“I won’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Because it’s true.”
“What’s true?” Mom asked stepping onto the porch. Her eyes landed on James and filled with concern. “What happened?”
“He’s the father,” Dad murmured.
“The father?” Mom asked.
“The father,” Mike growled.
“The father?!” Grace said, standing in the doorway.
I tried my best to keep calm, staring at my family as they stared at us, their eyes shifting back between James and me. Dad still held an angered Mike back, while everyone else tried their best to wrap their heads around the newfound information.
“I just came to say that I want to give this a go,” James said, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets. “With you, Aria. I want to raise the baby with you.”
“Oh my God,” Mom whispered, tugging on her earlobe. “I need you to go right now, James.”
“But—”
“No. No buts. I need you to walk away and let us figure this out,” she said.
“Mrs. Watson—”
“Walk. Away,” Dad shouted, his voice shaking us all. James lowered his head and nodded before he turned to walk off. Everyone’s eyes moved to stare at me. Dad released Mike and within a second, Mike was dashing off after James. As he rounded the corner, all I heard was a screaming James and Mike shouting how he was going to kill him once he got a hold of him. “I should go get him…” Dad grabbed his coat from inside and headed off in the direction of the two boys.
Mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “It’s cold, come inside.”
I followed her into the house, but I hardly warmed up.
* * *
Mom spent a long time telling me that everything would be all right, but I hadn’t a clue how that could be true. I felt the walls around me collapsing. Things had finally been getting better. Everyone was coming around to the idea of the baby and the adoption. Then James had to decide to ruin everything.
“We’ll wait until morning to sort through this all. Okay? Don’t worry too much. It will all work out.” She kissed my forehead and left the room.
The moment she left, a few tears fell from my eyes. The whole situation was overwhelming. My fingers rolled over my stomach. He was the only thing that kept me breathing right now. Each breath I took was merely for him.
“James is the dad?” Grace asked, standing in my doorway.
I closed my eyes, wiping the few fallen tears away. “I’m not in the mood right now, Grace.” She didn’t reply, but I listened to her footsteps walking closer to me. “Grace, I said I’m not in the mood.” I opened my eyes and saw her holding two beaded necklaces.
“I used my Christmas bead set and made one for the baby and one for you.”
I swore I felt my heart breaking. I thanked her for the necklaces, and she smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be an ugly pregnant person.”
Snickering, I hugged her with my huge belly. “Thanks, Grace.”
* * *
I waited until the next morning to head over to Levi’s house and explain what had happened the night before. Mostly I was embarrassed, and also angry at James for thinking it was okay to kiss me, to even touch me. Standing on Mr. Myers’ porch, I knocked on the door, waiting for an answer.
When the door finally opened and a fragile Mr. Myers appeared with purple shadows under his eyes, I hiccupped nervously.
“Yeah?” he muttered, staring blankly at me.
“I’m looking for Levi,” I said, giving him a half smile.
&nbs
p; Mr. Myers grumbled. “He’s gone.”
“Oh.” I bit my bottom lip. “Is he at Soulful Things?”
“No. He’s gone back to Alabama.”
His words didn’t register at first, because those words made no sense. I’d just seen Levi yesterday afternoon; how could he be gone? “What do you mean?”
“I sent him back home yesterday.”
My heartbeat increased as I stared into a pair of brown eyes that were much colder than the ones that belonged to the boy I’d come to see. How could Levi leave? How could he not say goodbye? Why would Mr. Myers send him away?
“Why would you do that?” I asked angrily. “All he wanted was to be with you!”
“We don’t always get what we want, girl. This ain’t no fairy tale.”
“He’s been nothing but good to you. You’ve treated him like he’s nothing, but all he did was take care of you. And then you ship him off because you’re sick of him? Because he’s a hassle? How could you be so selfish?! How could you just take the easy road and send him away?”
“You think this is easy?!” he shouted, tossing his hands in the air with defeat. “You think it’s easy having your son care for you, spoon feed you, because you’re too damn weak? You think it’s easy living with the demons that took over my soul long ago? Living with the memories of the things I’ve done to people in this town? To Levi? To his mom? Well, little girl, you are stupid if that’s what you think. You’re a fool if you think anything about my life is easy.”
“And what kind of issues do you think you left with your son when you chose to ship him off instead of trying to fix some of those past mistakes?”
“It’s too late to fix anything,” he said, rubbing his hands nervously together.
“Whatever. If you want to give up that’s fine. It seems like that’s what you’ve done all your life. But you could’ve at least tried for him. You don’t have to be such a terrible father!”
“I’m a fuck-up!” he admitted. “Over and over I fuck up in my life. I’m an asshole, ask anyone in this town, ask your father. I. Fuck. Up. But everything I have ever done since the day his mom left me has been for that boy and his mother. He didn’t deserve to have the responsibly of choosing between his mother and me. I saw the heartbreak in his eyes, it was killing him. So I made the choice for him. As parents we make choices. We make the hard choices that we never want to. We give things up when it’s the hardest thing in the world. We allow our kids to hate us if it means they’ll have a better life. We sacrifice every single day. We send birthday and Christmas cards that the kid stops replying to because by that point, he just hates you. Which is for the best, because you ain’t got shit to offer him. He needed to be with his mom. She needed him more than my selfish desires of having him here. The last thing he needed or deserved was to sit here and watch me die.
Art & Soul Page 21