Chapter Ten – Marion
June, 2009
Alex sat alone in the dark and silence. She left the house to go to work, because she had to, but then she came immediately home. The past months were more difficult than she could have ever imagined.
The cover story was that Marion Jones had been in a car crash that killed her husband, and had since moved away to escape the painful memories. Marion had no siblings, and her parents had died. Alex shuddered at the thought. Her parents were alive and well. Would she ever see them again?
And then, of course, there was the loss of Bobby. How could he be gone? It had been so sudden. One moment she had been having an emergency C-section, the next, she had woken up in a hospital far away and been told that not only was her baby stillborn, but Bobby had been killed.
For the most part, Alex kept to herself. She didn't communicate with the other people at work any more often than she had to. She worked as a receptionist for a law firm, which was not something she particularly liked, but wasn't something that she detested either. Not that it really mattered; she didn't take pleasure in anything since the move. Since the move – her own way of avoiding thoughts like since he died.
There was a man who worked for Fed-ex who delivered to the law firm fairly regularly who tried to talk to her. Tom, she recalled. He had inquired after her family last time she saw him, and she had simply replied shortly with, "My husband is dead."
She almost felt guilty at the way he had paled and stuttered out an apology. Then, to her great surprise, he had told her that he had recently lost his partner of five years. It was her turn to try and offer an apology. After that awkwardness was over, he had told her about a grief support group that he attended. "Come if you ever want to talk," he'd offered.
She pulled the folded piece of paper on which he'd scribbled out the time and location of the group. She had leaned on a friend after Joe died, but here she had no one. Maybe it would help to go. She could try it once, and then she could always leave and not go back.
August 2009
"I still miss Sam every day," Tom said. "I know it's been six months, but there's not a day that passes that I don't think of that loss. Not only to me, but for Lucas."
In the month since Alex had started coming to the group, which met once a week, she had learned that Tom and Sam had a son. The boy was about a year old now, and Alex had seen the pictures that Tom was eager to show off proudly to anyone who expressed an interest.
The group was nodding in understanding to Tom's words. They all could identify with the feeling.
"It must have been hard to lose Sam so suddenly like that," a woman named Trisha sympathized.
"It's hard to lose someone slowly too," an older man said.
Trisha nodded in agreement, and the man began to describe the helplessness he'd felt watching his wife of forty-five years succumb to kidney disease. Then Trisha added how she could identify with the helplessness of watching a relative die, as she had with her sister's cancer.
"I always felt guilty that she was sick and I was healthy," Trisha continued.
"There's nothing you could have done," another woman offered in an attempt at comforting her.
"I know that, but I still felt terrible for being healthy when she was dying."
Alex nodded. "I felt the same way when my husband died."
The eyes of the group turned to her. It was the first time she had spoken up since introducing herself and giving a brief description of what brought her there.
"You couldn't control what happened either," Tom was quick to put in.
"I can't help but think how it was supposed to be me," Alex expressed, clenching her hands.
"You can't help that the other car pulled into your lane," Tom said earnestly. For a moment, Alex was confused, before she remembered her cover story. She felt more like herself with Tom than anyone else, and had temporarily forgotten that she was Marion Jones since the move. She would have to be careful with remembering her cover story. But how could anyone in the group know that it was much more complicated than a car crash? Boyd really had been after her – it really was her fault that Bobby was killed.
She fell silent, staring into her lap until she could regain control. "It's natural to feel some survivor's guilt, Marion," the group facilitator said, looking to her but really addressing this statement to the group at large. "With time, you'll all come to realize that your loved one's death wasn't you fault."
Alex was highly doubtful of that. But still she knew that it was too late to do anything about it now. Bobby was gone.
September 2009
Alex woke up to Lucas blowing a raspberry in her face. She had been dropping Tom off after group for a few weeks now, to save him the trouble of taking public transit, and he had invited her in last night. They had ended up talking late into the night, and so Tom had asked her to stay.
According to him, the baby had recently started trying to climb out of his crib, so he had removed one of the sides, thinking that a drop to the floor from that level would be safer than if he ever managed to climb the bars and topple over them. As a result, Lucas could get out of bed as soon as he was awake.
"Hello there little fellow," she greeted him softly. He gave her his baby grin in response. Alex was pleased that he seemed to be starting to recognize her. She sat up and swung her legs down, lifting the boy off of the floor and carrying him into the kitchen where she started water boiling for coffee. Tom only had instant, which was a real shame in Alex's opinion.
The baby had grabbed a handful of her hair and was squealing delightedly. As she worked her hair free from Lucas's chubby fist, she tried to imagine how different her life would be right now if her baby had lived. Her child would have been about six months old by now.
But what was the point in imagining? The baby was no more alive than Bobby was. Alex contemplated the little boy settled on her hip, and wondered if Lucas had in any way eased Tom's loss of Sam. The baby was certainly a delight, and probably took up a lot of his father's time, but she wasn't sure that having a baby now would have made the loss of her husband any easier to bear. Still, thinking of the baby she had lost had her examining the one perched on her hip wistfully.
"Marion?"
Tom was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, or for that matter, how long she'd been lost in thought. The kettle was whistling and she pulled the plug from the socket.
"Hi," Alex said quickly, trying to cover up her embarrassment at him catching her lost in her contemplations. "Lucas came over to the couch, so I just took him in here with me," Alex explained, handing him hurriedly back over to his father as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. "I boiled water for coffee."
"Thanks," Tom replied, settling Lucas into a more comfortable position. "I hope he didn't wake you."
"No," Alex lied. "I was up already."
Tom walked over and leaned on the counter, watching Alex with concern wrinkling his brow. "Marion," he began hesitantly, "I hope you don't think I'm intruding, and please don't feel you have to answer. But, the way you were looking at Lucas just now…" he let his sentence trail off as Alex bit her lip. "Just forget I said anything," he said, changing his mind.
"No, it's all right," Alex said. "There's something I haven't mentioned in the group." She looked down and directed the next statement to her feet. "When the car crashed… I was pregnant at the time."
"Oh, Marion," Tom gasped. "I'm so sorry."
Alex nodded, not daring to speak. The boiled water forgotten, Tom slipped Lucas into his high chair before returning to Alex, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into his chest, and for the first time, allowed herself to openly grieve for both losses. She took what comfort she could from Tom's strong arms wrapped around her, and buried her face in his chest.
He held her and stroked her hair with one hand until she had quieted. "Sorry," she said as soon as she could speak.
"Don't apologize," he instructed. "Let it out, sweetheart. You can't keep it all in. Trust me. When Sam died I cried my heart out every day for a long time."
"Does anything help?" Alex asked.
"Time helps," Tom said. "I wouldn't say it 'heals all wounds' but eventually you start to move on, because you've got to I suppose. Keeping busy helps too. And having people to lean on. Like the others in the group… and especially, since we've become friends."
Alex had been mopping her face up with her sleeve while he spoke, and after he finished, she offered a tentative smile. He returned it with his own warm smile.
Just then, Lucas banged a fist into the tray of his high chair, squalling with displeasure at being denied his breakfast for so long. Tom chuckled and started opening cupboards to get their breakfast ready, Alex taking one last swipe at her eyes before helping him out.
December 2009
"You're sure I'm not intruding?" Alex asked for the third time.
"Of course not," Tom replied. "I'll be glad of your company." He stepped back to allow her in. Lucas came toddling around the corner on unsteady but speedy legs, laughing delightedly when he saw her. Alex swept him off the ground before he could fall, lifting him into the air and giving him a quick hug before he squirmed to get down.
The two adults watched him careen around the corner again, babbling away. "He has too much energy," Tom said fondly. "Come on in," he added, taking her coat.
"Thanks," she said.
She was grateful that Tom had invited her to come over on Christmas Day. She had been alone in her misery that morning, and was glad to have the distraction now. She suspected that Tom might feel the same way. It was also his first Christmas without Sam.
Alex had seen a photo of the family of three on Christmas the previous year, Lucas just a tiny infant in his father's arms. Sam's arm was wrapped around Tom's shoulders, and they were both smiling at the camera, the Christmas tree lights twinkling merrily behind them.
Alex reflected on what she had been doing the previous year. She and Bobby had spent Christmas morning alone together before heading over to join the extended Eames family at her parent's place that afternoon.
Alex had settled down on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa that Tom had handed her. He also sat down with his own mug. "You're not heading back to visit any other family this year?" Tom asked.
"No other family to visit," Alex replied, taking a sip of her drink to avoid him reading her expression. "You're not visiting anyone else either?"
"No," Tom answered. "I haven't spoken to my parents since I moved out. My brother lives too far away, and that's pretty much it for family."
"What about Sam's family?" Alex asked.
"Sam's parents used to come and visit, back before…" he trailed off frowning. "Well, not in nearly a year now."
"Don't they want to see their grandson?" Alex asked curiously.
"They used to at least seem to take an interest in him before," Tom replied. "But I suppose they think that since we adopted Lucas, they don't really have a connection to him since Sam died."
"Some people take blood too seriously," she said.
"I agree," said Tom, nodding. "We may not share any DNA, but Lucas is my son."
"Dada?" the subject of their conversation inquired, seeming to be confirming Tom's own statement. The child pointed to the presents under the tree, dancing with excitement.
"Is it time to open the presents, buddy?" Tom asked.
Lucas squealed happily and toddled back over to the tree. Pouring all of her concentration into her friend and his son, Alex almost managed to feel a bit of the joy of the Christmas season. But there would be no escaping her memories that night. Alone in the dark; she would later cry herself to sleep.