2016

Atlanta, Georgia

(The Morning After)

The sun had risen just like it was supposed to. Outside the window birds and crickets chirped, the sun's beaming and bright rays intrusively peered in through half opened blinds. Peyton Sawyer Jagielski squinted and rolled over. Her eyes opened and focused on a dark corner, a portion of the room almost as dim as the shadow cast over her heart. She reached over and did what she always did in times of despair…Peyton reached for a cigarette. It was morning alright but it was hardly a day like any other day. In bed lay a completely changed woman.

She thought back to the day before, back when life was actually normal. She had awakened at her usual ungodly hour for the daily two and a half mile jog around the upper middle class suburban neighborhood. Then she had come back and showered and changed for work. It was summer vacation and when there were no camps or scheduled play dates, the Jagielski children relaxed at home underneath the loving but watchful eyes of Nancy, the grandmotherly babysitter. Peyton had remembered the day she and Jake had hired her. Right away she exuberated that natural warmth and nurturing that was so imperative to child rearing. The children were everything to Jake and Peyton and when they couldn't be there, they wanted someone they trusted to assume their place.

But on that day there had been no Nancy to arrive bright and early to prepare breakfast and watch cartoons with them. She had been given the day off and for good reason. It was Jake's turn to stay home. His career as a Public Relations specialist for an up and coming computer company had often kept him busy and away with long hours. But the doting young father had jumped for a chance to spend a day with his kids before a late evening flight that would see him en route for a last minute business trip.

That's how Peyton would want to remember the day before all their lives had changed seemingly forever. The messy kitchen and her husband scurrying around fixing oatmeal, pancakes and whatever else each child had specifically ordered. She had kissed them all before grabbing a bagel and slapping some cream cheese on it, munching on her way to work.

Pulling into the parking space reserved for her, she stopped and took in the scenery before applying a thin coat of mascara to her lashes. Art had always been a passion and she had dreamed of one day owning her own galleria. Her dreams had finally come true. It wasn't the fanciest place but it was hers and that was what mattered most. The beautiful blonde Art History major felt chills every time she saw the sign that read simply the Sawyer Gallery, a surname she had always worn with pride even though she hadn't actually been a Sawyer in years.

It was more than a building or place of business but more like a second home. She had invested her very soul, years of hard work, desire, relentless effort, a lot of sleepless nights and blood, sweat and tears. But it had all been worth it. Her work was her everything…everything next to the family she cherished.

With a single tear falling from her eye, she didn't have to look far to catch a glimpse of any one of the four Jagielski children. Their pictures were everywhere, on every wall and every flat surface in the master bedroom. The oldest, Jenny, the beautiful tomboy Peyton had raised and loved like her own. Her eyes seemed to shine back from the frames. Then of course were the boys, Micah and Mason, who had surprised all and arrived in the form of identical twins. They inherited the physical qualities from their father but personality wise, it had been Peyton all the way. And last but certainly not least was the baby of the family, Dominique, affectionately nicknamed, Minnie. She was their special child.

Her day at work had been busy. There was a morning staff meeting to attend. Then lunch with a friend. Next, Peyton had an appointment to see if the boys could be squeezed in for an August peewee football camp. The afternoon would consist of planning the next big art show. After that, she would barely have time to hop in her large luxury SUV and fight rush hour traffic in order to make it home for dinner. Fortunately being one of the larger vehicles on the road had its privileges and Peyton smirked as she bullied through the masses of cars on the crowded highway. Even as tiny as she was, it was like her body had been built for driving a large truck. As the babies had come, Jake had often suggested that they get a mini van for space and safety reasons but the pretty, young mom had turned her collective nose up in horror at the very insinuation. No matter how many children they had, no matter how old they got, Peyton Jagielski would always be too cool to ever rock the dreaded mini van.

She had made it home just in time for pizza. They had eaten as a family, then popped in the latest Walt Disney video. The children tired quickly and early and the parents put them to bed as Jake began to prepare for his upcoming flight. He had packed a bag and stood in the mirror, putting on his tie…

"Hey", she said, walking in the bedroom behind him.

He barely looked at her.

"Hey."

"You need any help or anything?"

"I'm all packed. Everything is good."

She nodded. The two had loved each other forever it seemed like sometimes but over the years circumstances had strained the relationship.

"When will you be back?"

Jake shrugged.

"A couple of days. I don't know. It shouldn't take too long. I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah. Um, okay. Well, I'm gonna go get in the shower. I know you have to go soon so if I don't see you anymore, have a good flight. Call me when you land."

Jake turned to her.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"It's not a big deal. They're having a party downtown to honor Paul Miller. He's one of my potential buyers. I wasn't gonna go but I think I am now. I mean, I should. I can at least show my face for an hour or two. Anyway, Nancy is coming over to watch the kids", she said, as she used a match to light her Marlboro Light.

Jake sighed as he reached for his bag, dramatically fanning away at the annoying stench of smoke.

"Whatever, Peyton."

She grabbed his arm.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He looked into those same beautiful eyes he had been staring at for over ten years. As time had passed it seemed like a stranger was staring back at him.

"Nothing. Look, I've got to go. I can't miss this plane…"

"I know but shouldn't we talk first?"

"Talk about what, Peyton?" Jake snapped.

She bit the inside of her lip.

"Everything", she answered softly.

He shook his head. How many times had he tried to talk to Peyton about "everything"? So much had happened between them yet she had avoided the chances for discussion for years.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Jake…wait…"

"Have fun at your little party."

With his belongings in hand, he brushed right past her and kissed each of the children before getting in the car and taking off for the airport…

She didn't cry. She never cried. So many tears from so long ago had been shed, sometimes she honestly felt as if there was nothing else left, like her very soul had been drained. So she did what she always had. She put on a brave face for Nancy and the kids. Slipping on a sexy strapless dark green party dress to accent her eyes and pale skin tone, Peyton dried and straightened her bob length hair and subtly applied her make up. When all was said and done, she looked like a million dollars. She looked in on the kids, chatted with Nancy and headed off to the party.

She arrived a fashionable two hours late to hugs and kisses and greetings from many of her esteemed colleagues in the art world. Known as a hard worker and talented artist, it had not taken Peyton long to gain the respect and build friendships with the people, some of them very prominent, in that world. The party was hosted at The Georgian Terrace Hotel, the venue of choice for some of Atlanta's most important events. A handsome young bellhop checked her coat and offered a glass of champagne that she readily accepted. She mingled her way through the crowd of friends, professional collaborators and strangers before finally making her way over to the guest of honor.

Paul Miller, a respected and well known artist, as well as a suave businessman was indeed the gentleman to know if one wanted to make any real money in the art world. Just a few years before at a rare show open to the public, a nervous blonde with long curly hair had approached him about possibly working together. Normally he would have scoffed at the very idea but she wouldn't take no for an answer and a portfolio filled with contemporary oil, acrylic and watercolors had him sold at hello.

She sat at his table and enjoyed the prepared meal of Beef Carpaccio, Eggplant, Caramelized Sea Scallops and the finest wine. The 40 ish gentleman with salt and pepper hair and captivating blue eyes had lavished her with attention and the two had even shared a dance together on the ballroom floor. But before the evening's main event, when Paul Miller had been due to receive his award, Peyton had retrieved her jacket and slipped seemingly unnoticed out of the hotel. She needed a few hours alone, a few hours to clear her head.

Just before dawn, she had returned home to a quiet house. She changed into pajamas and crawled in an empty bed, just staring at the dark ceiling. Time seemed to almost stand still she thought. Sometimes she wished it had. Then she closed her eyes praying for sleep and a few moment's peace but tranquility would not come. The memories of the past few hours began to haunt her like a ghost. She hadn't been alone the entire time. There had been an angry confrontation and she couldn't believe what she had done.

Stumbling into the master bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the bottle of sleeping pills. The milligram dosage was high but over the years, she had managed to build quite the tolerance. Peyton popped a few in her mouth, not even bothering to wash them down with liquid, before returning to bed. It felt like an eternity before the substance began to take effect but just as her heavy eyelids closed, the telephone had rang.

It jarred her awake. In fact, she sat straight up, her entire body trembling. From past experiences, she knew no good could ever come from a late night phone call. It was never good news, in fact, the polar opposite. But still it rang and rang, each ring louder than the one that preceded it. She waited for it to go to voicemail but it never did and finally her shaking hands answered it.

She had not been prepared for what she heard. But neither had she been prepared for the phone call in the middle of the night that came from Tree Hill General Hospital when she was nine years old to inform her and her father, Larry, that her mother, Anna, suffering from severe internal injuries related to an automobile accident, had only minutes to live. And she had not been prepared when Ellie had called her in the middle of the night with news that her cancer had returned for the second time. And she had not been prepared when yet another hospital had informed her that for the second time in her young life, she was losing another mother.

Middle of the night phone calls were no good. It represented loss. And people were always leaving Peyton.

The call had been brief and to the point. It had left her hollow inside, a sense of grief so profound she hadn't been able to react with tears or even a scream. Instead she had sat up on her bed, knees to her chest and pondered the last decade of her life. She looked at pictures of her four children and her three parents. She looked at pictures of Jake. She looked at her favorite picture taken ten years before in front of the Whitey Durham Field House, the picture of six innocent, smiling best friends in their caps and gowns, arms wrapped around one another, looking towards the future with the brightest of expectations.

And then they were five…

Morning had arrived all too quickly and the bedroom door slowly creaked open. Peyton looked up to see one of her sons, Mason.

"Hey, Mama", the brown haired boy who was the spitting image of his father climbed up on his parents' bed in ruffled, slightly oversized pajamas.

"Hey, Cowboy", she said softly.

"It stinks in here", the little boy sniffed and looked around. "It smells like cigarettes. Have you been smoking, Mama?"

Peyton sighed. She had never been one to keep the truth from her children.

"Just one."

"Pay up", he extended his small, grubby hand.

Without protest, Peyton found a quarter and handed it over to Mason. The kids hated her smoking and their protests had only been fueled by public school education and the federal campaign, R.E.W.A.R.D.S. a youth smoking prevention and stay in school program. Peyton had heard it all from the kids and had made many honest efforts to quit but the calming instant effect of nicotine on jangly nerves that had been anything but calm for 28 years, was almost always an offer too good to refuse. So she had agreed to pay the children 25 cents each time they caught her in the act. It had been something she and Jake had initially laughed about but it was no laughing matter when one of them had saved up to buy a skateboard with the collected funds from the attempt to cease their mother's horrible habit.

"Sorry, kiddo."

"I'm hungry."

"Where's Nancy?"

"Downstairs."

"Well, why don't you go ask her to make you breakfast? I bet she'd make those blueberry pancakes you like."

He shrugged.

"I like it better when you do it."

Peyton sighed.

"Okay, Mason. Are all the other kids awake?"

"Yep", he nodded.

"Just give me a minute. I'll be right down."

"Okay. Mama?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Your eyes look funny. Have you been crying?"

"No", she shook her head.

"Are you sad?"

She looked again at that picture, that damned picture.

"Yeah, Cowboy. I am sad."

"Why?"

She took a deep breath as her son's eyes beseeched her for answers. There was no easy way out. As young as he was, he'd have to know. She couldn't protect the children from everything, especially not from death.

"Mason, something bad happened last night…" she began softly telling it like it was a story.

The young mother chose her words carefully, her heart breaking as tears welled up in little Mason's eyes. It was all so unfair, she thought. But somehow, life had to go on. She'd have to tell the other kids and eventually, sooner than later, she'd have to get off her butt and look in a mirror and deal with it herself.

Hugging her crying child to her bosom, her eyes glanced over to the nightstand located on Jake's side of the bed. He had left his travel itinerary and there it was in plain sight. She cursed that business trip. Why, she asked herself. Why did he have to get on that goddamn plane?