IN THE SUN
Chapter 44: I Told You So

I held up to my promise to Cathy; I called her and went with the group later that afternoon to visit Emery. But when we finished, I went home and crawled back in bed to continue sleeping. In the few hours I'd been home, I found that sleep was the only way I had by which to escape the overpowering grief. After awhile, I stopped answering the phone. The caller ID announced to me the names of the people I was missing. My parents called seven times that second day; Amanda called five times; Eddie called six; David and Brian called separately on behalf of the band eight times each; and Chris called fifteen times. I wouldn't even know where to begin when it came to the spirits. I was still getting inundated with visitors from the other side, looking for lost loves. With every spirit, I became more and more angry that Nick was not amongst them. With every spirit, after their questions, I asked one of my own: "Have you seen my husband?" After awhile, I began to feel a lot like one of the spirits I was supposed to help: lost, lonely and confused.

The third day, which I believe was Tuesday, was the first day in which my doorbell rang. I was in bed again, but this time, I was awake. I hadn't been crying; as a matter of fact, at eleven o'clock in the morning, I hadn't cried in six hours. It was a record for me, a record by five and a half hours. I was beginning to think maybe I'd run out of tears. Feeling strong enough to face another human being, yet hoping to God it wasn't one of the neighbors, I pulled on my robe over my pajamas and went to the door.

I swung the door open, halfway expecting Cathy, Steve or maybe a member of the Seattle Police Department, but instead, I found my God-father standing there, suitcase in hand. He looked like hell. I could tell he hadn't slept. My resolve wavered, and it was then that my record was broken. My knees began to shake and my chin trembled. He looked as if he was about to lose it, too; his eyes were filled with tears.

"Liza--"

"Don't. Just--" I cut him off, shaking my head. My voice cracked. The tears flowed easily, as if they'd never stopped to begin with. "No. Don't you fucking dare say it, do you hear me? Don't you even think about it." My head dropped and my knees finally gave out. I was on the cool tile floor of my entryway then, my face buried in my hands. Sobbing, Chris fell to the floor next to me and pulled me into his arms. He didn't say it. He didn't say anything, as a matter of fact. He didn't need to. Because the words were ever-present, loud and clear, as constant a reminder as the scar that stretched down the side of my face.

I told you so.

"Hey, Mom."

"Elizabeth, why in the hell have you not been answering your phone? We've been calling for two days..."

"Mom...."

"Your brother and sister are here, and they're worried, too." I could hear them on the other end, begging to talk. "Your father, too. I just can't believe-- I'm gonna put you on speaker." I could hear it click over.

"Mom!" I was losing it again. If I wanted to tell her, I needed to tell her then, before I lost my marbles again, although I was sure Chris had told them.

She was silent. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't Chris tell you?"

"Tell me what, baby?"

My throat closed in on me, and my voice faltered. "Um.... there's been a bit of an accident."

"Oh, my God."

"Nick's dead, Momma. He's—" I choked. "He's gone."

"Ooh, my God! Oh, God, baby, no, no!"

Eddie let out a wail. Amanda screamed; there was a commotion behind the sound of my mother's voice as she began to cry. I found out later Amanda had passed out, and my father had to catch her. When I joined my mother, I wondered, 'How long is this supposed to hurt for?'

I was rinsing the plates from dinner that night when Chris went to get in the shower. It was a long day for me. I had called Evelyn, Nick's sister in England. Second talk in one day. The third talk came when the University called, wondering why Nick hadn't shown up for a mandatory department meeting that morning. I thanked God the neighbors hadn't started showing up; I'd had enough good news for one day, and my head was beginning to feel a few sizes too big. All of this, and I hadn't even told them I was to be a mother yet. I decided to call to check up on Emery. At least, with them, I wouldn't have to explain anything anymore.

"Cathy?"

"Oh!" I could hear the smile in my friend's voice. "Oh-- Emery! Everyone, it's Liza!" Sounds of happiness met my ears as I could hear my friends greet me. "How are you, dear?"

"Um.... alright, I suppose. It-- it's good to hear your voice, is all."

"Oh, honey, it's good to hear from you, too. We're at the hospital, visiting Emery."

"How is he?"

"Better! He should be out by tomorrow."

"Oh, good. Actually, that's why I called. Um... I want you guys to all come visit tomorrow, when he's out. Is- is that okay?"

"Is that okay?! Oh, Liza, of course it's okay! Hey, listen! She wants us to come visit, and she wants us to come tomorrow so we can bring Emery!" I could hear sounds of approval at the other end. "What? O-oh, okay. Liza? Here, someone wants to talk to you."

"Alright...."

"Liza?" It was Emery. I was surprised.

"Emery. Hi. How are you feeling?"

"Better. That morphine milkshake they concocted really did the trick."

"I bet," I smiled.

"So we'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah, you bet. Come on over anytime."

The next morning, Chris and I sat over coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. It was silent for the most part, but we did talk some. When Brian called, I took it. Explained everything to him, complete with tears. I wasn't in the mood to reiterate it four more times, so I had him talk to the band. It took me awhile to come back down from that one.

When I'd recovered substantially enough, I told Chris we needed to start thinking about the funeral. "I know there's no body, but...." I sniffled, still crying a little. "There needs to be something, you know? A memorial, maybe...." We agreed to work out the details after my friends stopped by for a visit. We worked it through, and agreed to have a memorial service five days later.

Chris was a blessing; he promised to stay for at least another week. His presence in my house made things a little bit lighter. When I got the photos from the past two weeks developed, they were beautiful. The picture Steve took of Nick and me the day we found out we were to be parents was perfect. Chris sat with me as we looked through them and we cried together. Grief was easier when you were surrounded by sunlight and other people; it gives you something else to see for a spell, and for a short time, you can lie to yourself. But at night, as I lay in that big empty bed in the big empty room alone, I cried. I cried and I talked to the husband I knew I'd never see again, asking him what it was like up in heaven, even though I heard no response. I desperately hoped that somehow, somewhere, he heard me. I asked him if Gwen was there with him, or Pam or Vic or even Joyce.

Nick's memorial was to start at three in the afternoon on the following Sunday. I was so exhausted that I went to bed at eight the night before; the earliest I'd ever gone to bed was ten. But that night, I really needed that sleep. I was still so raw, so broken; anything would have set me off. So I curled up in bed and drifted off into forgetful solace.

There was something on my nose. That much I knew as wakefulness slowly crept in with the sunlight on Sunday morning. Something that started from the point just between my eyes and ended right at the tip made me twitch. I slowly opened my eyes. Eddie lay next to me, and he removed his hand from my face. I managed to pull up a small smile, as much of a struggle as it was. I realized then it was the first time I'd seen either of my siblings since Christmas.

"Hi, Liza."

"Hi."

We didn't say anything for a long moment.

"I was so happy." And that was it. I started shaking, and the sobs came all over again. Eddie's eyes filled with tears as he hugged me and let me cry.

The memorial was beautiful, and incredibly difficult. I couldn't keep on my feet. Evelyn an her family had flown in from England; my parents, sister, brother and band-mates were there, as well as my new friends and fellow survivors from Rose Red. Chris held me up on my feet as I cried. I told my family and friends that day about the twins, and it actually helped; I think knowing a piece of Nick had survived was what made it so special. Regardless, it was still the hardest day of my life. I went to bed that night with that bruise of a heart still throbbing, tears threatening an evacuation.