AN: Happy holidays to everyone! I've had an unusual three days off in a row and I spent some time editing the next chapter I hope you enjoy it. As always, I'd love to hear what you think. The reviews left so far inspire me to work a little faster to finish this for you. Have a great week!
Chapter 3
Joan checked the last name off the list. It was almost midnight. She'd been calling family and friends for the last four hours. She inhaled sharply and held her breath for a moment before letting it go in a whoosh. She was exhausted.
Pushing up on the edge of the table, Joan forced herself to stand. Her body was stiff and her heart heavy. Her eyes fell to the notepad where she'd been doodling as she talked on the phone. The page was covered in blue ink. Swirls and loops decorated the border, filled in with hearts and simple cubes constructed from two offset squares, lines connecting the corners. Then there were the two stick people in the center, a boy and a girl. Joanie and her Benji.
A sob formed in the pit of her stomach. She tried swallowing it away, but with each breath she took, one that Ben would never take again, the pressure built until it forced its way out of her mouth, causing her hand to fly up, trying to contain the eruption.
Joan made it to the doorway between the kitchen and living room before she was overtaken. She leaned into the door frame and finally gave into her grief. She slid down the wooden casing, melting into a puddle on the floor.
Joan thought this pain might have been worse than when Robert died. At least she'd been expecting that. The cancer was slow to take him, and in the end, even though she would never admit it aloud, she'd begged God to take him to ease his suffering. Hers was irrelevant.
But Ben, he was just snatched away. Joan struggled to remember the last time she saw him. Was it last Sunday afternoon? No, it was Saturday. So a week ago. What had they talked about? Was it of any importance? She didn't think so.
Now, there wasn't going to be another opportunity to make memories. What she had was it. The thought hurt deeply. Joan pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed.
Elizabeth lay awake in bed. Once Joan stopped talking on the phone, Elizabeth thought that her aunt would go to bed and Elizabeth could turn on the light and read all night. Her theory was that if she wasn't going to be sleeping, maybe a book would distract her.
Then she heard what she could only describe as the sound an animal might make when it was being killed. Elizabeth listened and although the sound was quickly muffled, it didn't completely stop. Silently, Elizabeth crept from the bed and peeked her head out into the hallway. The glow from the kitchen light still illuminated the end of the corridor.
She inched her way along the wall, staying in the shadows. As Elizabeth got closer to the kitchen, she saw Joan crumpled on the floor crying. There was a part of her that wanted to go and collapse there and cling to her, but there was also a part of her that had no desire to share her grief. The latter won out and she moved silently back to her room and crawled into bed once again.
The next morning, the trio found themselves sitting around the table poking at bowls of Lucky Charms. There had been a constant stream of deliveries. Joan had tried to sit down five times already, but as soon as she pulled out a chair, the doorbell would ring again. The bar was covered with brownies, cookies and a couple pies. The fridge held its maximum capacity in casseroles, deli platters and cheese balls. It was obvious to Elizabeth that everyone's solution to grief was to feed it. She had no desire to eat. Instead she pushed the cereal around in the bowl, remembering how she'd been so excited about her cereal when she first got her glasses. Now it was just a bowl of glop and she couldn't bring herself to even squint to try and bring it into focus. When Joan finally made it to the table, no one said much. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts, until Joan started laughing.
Will and Elizabeth looked up at Joan, who had lost all of her senses and was now laughing uncontrollably. "What?" they both asked simultaneously.
"I was just thinking about this cereal and the time your dad came over to the house. Gosh, that would've been when Junior was about five and Billy was two, or maybe almost two." Joan stopped talking, thinking for a moment until she regained focus. "Anyway, your dad was in college and sometimes he came over to eat breakfast before class. I was running behind, as I always was in those days, and I asked him to watch the kids while I got ready. When I came back out, he had the table wiped off and the kids' hands' and faces' washed and all of the breakfast dishes were in the sink. I was so impressed."
"Mom would've been too. She was always telling Dad to clean up after himself," Will interjected. Lizzie just stared. While it frequently happened, she didn't want to be telling stories about their parents.
Joan smiled, more to herself than to the kids, before continuing. "The next morning, I go to get breakfast for the boys and I pour their cereal. Do you know what he'd done?" Elizabeth watched Will as he hung on Joan's every word. "He'd taken every last marshmallow out of the Lucky Charms box. Ben only left the cereal bits. Man, the kids were mad." Joan shook her head. "He was always doing silly things like that." She chuckled softly. "I'm not sure how your mom put up with him."
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't sure how Joan could possibly tell funny stories about her dad when he was dead. "I remember this one time," Will started, and Elizabeth swiveled her head and glared at him. Will looked her up and down before turning his attention back to Joan. "Anyway," Will started again, making no attempt to hide his eye roll. "Dad was supposed to be teaching me how to use the riding mower to mow the lawn. After I had done the front yard,he stopped me and told me that the mower blades made the grass sit at an angle and that wasn't healthy for the grass. It needed to stand up. I thought it sounded dumb, but whatever. Dad always cared a lot about how the yard looked. He went into the garage and got a broom and told me that I had to sweep the lawn the opposite direction to make the grass stand up straight. So I'm out in the yard looking like a fool, sweeping the grass. I did it for probably ten minutes before he just couldn't keep quiet and he started laughing his head off." Will grinned. "I was so mad then, but I have to admit, it was pretty funny." Joan joined Will in laughing.
Elizabeth couldn't imagine what there was to laugh about when the hurt inside her was all consuming. It took everything she had to eat a couple bites of her cereal and not burst into tears. When Joan started in on another story, Elizabeth stood abruptly, knocking the chair backwards. She hastily grabbed it before it hit the floor. Sitting it back on all four legs, she hurried through the kitchen and down the hall to the spare room. Closing the door, she leaned against it and took a shuddering breath. The tears threatened to fall but she closed her eyes tightly and held her breath until the urge had passed. When she opened her eyes, everything seemed a bit fuzzier than usual.
There was a soft knock on the door and Elizabeth shook away the feeling and stepped away, allowing Joan to step inside. "Lizzie," her voice was soft and kind. Elizabeth wanted to be angry,
but she couldn't really make herself feel anything but empty. Joan wrapped her in a hug. "I know it hurts and not everyone deals with grief in the same way. Will and I meant no harm."
"I know," Elizabeth whispered. "I'm sorry."
Joan's expression hardened. "Lizzie, don't ever apologize for how you feel. It may be different than other people, but you still deserve respect. I've never had to do this with children before. I mean not like this. I'll make mistakes, but I need you to know that I'm trying. We'll get through it. We'll create a new normal. We'll build new lives on the existing foundation. Your parents still live within you. You'll never forget."
Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip as Joan spoke. She'd always liked Joan. Will was right. She was as good a person as any to take them. She thought about her aunt's words. "I don't want to forget, but right now, I can't remember. It hurts so much."
That afternoon, the three of them sat at a large mahogany table, surrounded by binders full of pictures of caskets, urns and so many other things that Elizabeth's head was spinning. They were joined by both of her dad's brothers.
Elizabeth listened quietly as the adults discussed the options. She grew irritated at the way they made everything about her dad and didn't seem to consider what her mother might want at all. On some level, she got it. Her mother was an only child and her parents had passed. She didn't have representation. Her father had an overabundance of it.
She tried to make eye contact with Will, but he had leaned back in the chair and was slumped in a way that indicated he was napping.
Realizing that she was alone, she cleared her throat and pulled the book of caskets toward her. She flipped through the pages and finally pointed at one. "This one," she said.
Everyone stopped and looked at her. "For whom?" Jeff asked.
"Both," she replied. "Can we be done now?"
Thom's face twisted into what Elizabeth thought was going to become and she felt Joan's hand rest on her shoulder. She brushed it away, pushed the chair from the table and stood. "Mom would've liked this one best and Dad would've deferred to Mom because he always said she had better taste than he did. Hell, maybe you can get some sort of discount for buying multiples. Surely there has to be some benefit when both of your parents die." With that, she turned and walked from the room, bumping the door frame on her way out.
Frustration bubbled up in her. Everyone seemed like this entire thing was a business transaction, rather than the end of life as she knew it. Subconsciously, she counted each step. She already knew it was 21 steps from the far back room where the family was to the front doors. Her hand went out to grab the handle. She misjudged its placement and broke the nail on her right middle finger. Stepping outside into the sun, she rubbed her thumb over the jagged edge. She felt like her life was the same as that broken nail, part of it ripped away unexpectedly. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the building. With a clenched jaw and many deep breaths, she pushed the emotion back so that it was just a dull ache in her chest.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing outside when Will ambled out and stood next to her. "Nice fit you threw in there."
"I didn't throw a fit. They couldn't make a decision, so I made it for them." Elizabeth's response was a little too quick and Will smirked.
"Right. Perfect Lizzie. Lizzie who never does anything wrong," Will quipped.
"That isn't what I said."
"It's how you conduct your life. You don't need to say it." Will scuffed the toe of his tennis shoe at a pebble, sending it skittering into the flower bed.
"You know, right before the car ran off the road, the conversation was about how I need to be more like you. Maybe it's not so terrible they died, at least they won't have to see me as a huge disappointment." Will shoved his hand in his jeans pockets and wandered down the concrete path in front of the building.
Elizabeth's blood ran cold. How dare he? She wanted to take him to the ground and beat some sense into him, but that wasn't her nature. The words coiled on her tongue, ready to strike in a pointed attack, meant to disable. "Well if you'd just apply yourself to anything!" she shouted.
"What difference does it make?" Will turned to face her and threw up his hands. "I'm always going to be in your shadow. Who cares?" Will stomped his way to the parking lot and sat down on the parking stop next to Joan's car.
There was a part of Elizabeth that felt remorse for purposely saying something hurtful, but the bigger part wanted to put him in his place. They stayed that way, Elizabeth against the building and Will sitting by the car until Joan and her uncles emerged. Joan and the kids got into Joan's car with Thom and Jeff following behind.
The three were silent until Joan started asking questions about how they felt the funeral should go. Just the thought made Elizabeth's stomach turn over and nearly expel its meager contents. "Do we have to decide right now?" she asked.
"Well, I'll need to call the mortician later this afternoon. I just thought you might have some ideas. Since your parents weren't very religious, I thought we could have the service at the funeral home. Is that alright?" Joan asked.
Elizabeth wondered if most of this had already been decided and Joan was just trying to make them feel included, but then even as she thought it, she decided that she didn't really care.
"Mom liked Amazing Grace. You should play that." Will's voice drifted from the back seat. Elizabeth turned and looked over her shoulder, and while she couldn't be sure, she thought that he was glaring at her.
"That's a good idea, Will. Lizzie, do you have any recommendations?" Joan asked, stealing a glance at her from the corner of her eye.
Elizabeth shook her head. "That one is fine," she mumbled. In reality, she could've listed several songs that her parents liked, but she wasn't sure they would be appropriate for a funeral, and it seemed to be a good idea to let Will have this one. Maybe he'd forgive her.
They sat in silence and with each adding mile, Elizabeth felt more alone. She couldn't talk to Joan and Will was put out with her. She thought of Jimmy.
They were barely in the house when Elizabeth caught Joan by the arm."Would it be alright if I called Jimmy?" Joan raised an eyebrow in question. "He's my boyfriend. I just, I just want to talk to him." Joan studied Elizabeth for a long moment.
"Yeah, sure hon. I think that would be fine."
Elizabeth let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Joan." She grabbed the phone off the cradle and punched in the number before dragging the cord around the corner into the hallway, away from where her uncle's were joining Joan in the kitchen.
"Mathis residence," the voice answered on the third ring.
"Hi, Mrs. Mathis. This is Lizzie. Is Jimmy there?" Elizabeth asked, like she'd done so many times over the past several months.
There was silence on the other end. Elizabeth wondered if the phone call had been disconnected when the woman spoke. "I'm so sorry to hear about your parents. It's just dreadful. My heart breaks for you."
Elizabeth's breath was sucked out of her. Her chest tightened. She realized how silly it was but the thought had never occurred to her that everyone would know. Of course they would, Charlottesville wasn't that big. She struggled to find words. "Uh, uh, umm, thank you?" She wasn't sure if that was an acceptable answer or not. "Is Jimmy there?*
After another lengthy pause, Mrs. Mathis asked, "You haven't seen him? He was coming to visit you this morning."
"No." Elizabeth felt the heavy weight on her chest. It took a few seconds before she could form her thoughts into words. "I'm at my Aunt's house. He probably didn't know that. Can you just have him call?" Elizabeth told herself that she was glad to know that he'd made the effort. She wasn't sure after how he'd left the day before. There was still that niggling feeling that if everyone in town knew her parents had died, they likely knew where she and Will were staying.
"Yes. I will make sure he knows that you called," Jimmy's mother said. There was something about the way she said it bothered Elizabeth. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "If there's anything we can do, just let us know."
"Thank you, Mrs. Mathis," Elizabeth said and she stepped back into the kitchen to hang up the phone.
All three adults looked up from the kitchen table. "Are you ok?" Jeff asked.
Elizabeth nodded. "I'm fine." She quickly retreated back down the hallway to the guest room where she'd spent the night before. Bags from one of the uncles sat on the end of the bed and all of her things were tossed on the chair against the wall opposite the bed, her duffle against the chair legs. Elizabeth squinted as if bringing the fuzzy images into focus would better help to explain it. Suddenly, Joan was at her back.
"The boys' families are going to be arriving tonight. I gave them the house. You, Will and I will be going back to your house. I figured that would be more comfortable for you." Joan explained it so efficiently that Elizabeth had no response. She chewed the inside of her cheek as the chasm within her opened just a little wider.
It was never that she had any illusions about how much control she had over the things that happened to her. Obviously, she had a say in small matters like choosing her own lunch or picking out her clothes, but really, her parents were the ones who told her what she could and couldn't do. She would ask, they would consider and deliver a verdict. But she always felt like she had some input. Now, she was conflicted. Emotionally, she didn't want to have to make any decisions, but at the same time, she desperately needed to feel like she was more than just a pawn being pushed around in someone else's game.
Just going to the house and picking up clothes had been tasking enough. How would it feel to be there and know that her parents were never coming home? That she would never again hear their hushed voices from the bedroom on the other side of the wall. That she wouldn't hear their banter over the breakfast table or roll her eyes when she walked into a room and caught them kissing. The pressure that seemed to permanently reside in her chest, poised to launch into her throat, did so with ease. She tried to swallow, tried to speak, tried to draw a breath and it wouldn't allow it. Instead, she nodded and drew away from Joan, counting the steps to the chair where her belongings were. 1, 2, 3. She knelt down and began putting her wadded up clothes into the duffle as the scene before her dimmed a bit more. The sound of the zipper being closed seemed to reverberate through Elizabeth's body. Joan's shoe scuffing the carpet in the doorway sounded like a train. Everything around her was amplified except she could see less of it.
Elizabeth could only place bits and pieces over the next few days. She stood with the family as what seemed like thousands of people came to pay their respects. Each one felt the need to shake her hand, lay a well meaning hand on her shoulder or pull her into what she felt sure they thought was a comforting hug. Comfort was the last thing she felt.
Elizabeth felt smothered. The air in the funeral home was too floral, too thick, too close. Each person, leaning in, made her withdraw incrementally further into herself.
Then Jimmy was standing before her and he was the only person that she wanted to sweep her into an embrace and say it would be okay. Instead, he mumbled "sorry" and slunk out of the line dodging the other family members. He didn't even shake her hand. She tried to catch sight of him, but lost him in the blur of the crowd.
That was her breaking point. She stepped away, slipping behind her uncles, out into the hallway. She dodged her younger cousin's, Jeff's grandkids. "Lizzie!" they called, in hopes that she would join them in their game. They were shushed by their mothers and Elizabeth escaped out the back door. She was surprised to find that it was only a small concrete pad surrounded by grass, not even a sidewalk. She leaned against the building and tried to clear her mind.
She wondered if Jimmy had even bothered to come a few days earlier like his mother said he had. She'd called twice more and each time, his mother put her off. Now she knew. Jimmy had moved on. She couldn't help but wonder if they had had sex sooner, if it would be different. As much as she wanted to believe that, she knew she was lying to herself. He was never invested in her like she was him. He was just passing time. She was now too much, a burden, and he moved on.
The whole situation was too much. Tears slipped from her eyes and she ridiculed herself for being so stupid. Why would he love her? She was just a nerd, a weirdo, and she shuddered to think that she could now add orphan to the list. She sat down against the building and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head there. Her skirt was a little too short to be in that position, but she didn't care. She sobbed. So much was lost.
Joan lost track of Elizabeth the hour prior, but couldn't find a break in the crowd to slip away to find her niece. Now that visitation was close to ending, she stepped back and checked the hallway and side rooms. It was one of the younger kids that pointed at the back door.
She slowly opened the door and found Elizabeth sitting on the concrete crying. Joan's heart broke for her niece. It seemed that even though she knew Will was upset, he handled his grief much differently. He was able to reminisce and laugh and put it to the side for a bit, but the sadness cloaked Elizabeth and Joan didn't have a clue how to help her lift it.
Elizabeth startled when Joan moved to sit beside her. The older woman wrapped the teen in her arms and Elizabeth's tears switched from how Jimmy broke her heart to how guilty she felt for thinking about that when she should be focused on her parents' deaths. After a bit, Joan handed her a tissue and told her that it was time to go.
Elizabeth stood and helped Joan to her feet and they walked inside the building. As they passed the viewing room, Elizabeth stopped and looked inside. "Could I—do you think it would be okay if I just had a minute with them?" Joan turned as though she was going to accompany her, but Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "Alone?" she whispered. Joan looked at her skeptically, but then squeezed her hand and walked on further down the hall. Elizabeth moved into the room and stood in front of the caskets.
Flowers lined the area, adding to the overwhelming stench that turned her stomach. There was a burgundy braided rope strung between four posts, meant to keep people from getting too close, but Elizabeth needed to get close. When standing four feet away, her parents were a blur. She wanted one last look at them, one more time with them, one more word with them. Silently, she moved around the end of the makeshift barrier. She trailed her fingers along the edge of the silver casket that held her mother's body. Wedging her foot between two giant potted plants, she stepped closer. Leaning in, she squinted her eyes to get the clearest image of her mom. Elizabeth was dismayed after hearing comments all day about how wonderful they looked and how peaceful their expressions were, she found them to be anything but. Suzanne's golden waves were curled unnaturally tight, her makeup color too pink and her lipstick too wazy red. Her lips were pasted together in what Elizabeth supposed was a natural dead person smile, but it was unsettling. The whole thing just looked wrong.
Elizabeth stepped back down and debated whether or not to look at her father, but curiosity won out and she stepped closer to his casket. He wore the same wan smile that was completely unnatural, for her father had a boisterous laugh and a wide grin to match. She noted the gray strands in his sandy brown hair. At 46, she guessed that was to be expected, but she'd always seen him as youthful, full of life, invincible. Elizabeth grimaced. Those were very naive and immature thoughts. She was most certainly being schooled on the reality of life, and death.
Stepping down, she looked at them both and wondered how anyone was ever able to move on from something like this. In a matter of days, her life had completely fallen apart. She lost her parents and seemingly her brother. She lost her boyfriend. She figured it was just a matter of time before she lost her home, although it seemed so different now, she wasn't sure she wanted to stay anyway. The scene around her was muted. Edges were frayed, Colors were dim and bled into each other. All of the plush fabrics in the room melted into each other until everything was just a single undefinable mass. It seemed to perfectly match her state of being. If she could just blur it, water it down, the pain would be easier to tolerate and she could continue on.
Her fingers ran the edge of the burgundy, braided roped, which faded into the carpet of similar color. The ridges of the twists felt silky beneath her fingertips. She moved quietly to the end and gripped the top of the brass post tightly. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and murmured, "I should've gone with you."
She moved toward the doorway and counted her steps.