Chapter 19
"When Louise was little," Bob said, glancing up at Nadia, "she was so independent; that was just who she was, you know?"
Next to him, Linda nodded. The four of them were back for their weekly therapy session. Bob and Linda had decided to schedule these sessions for twice a week for the time being, in order to help them prepare for February. They were going to need all the extra help and support they could get. Bob wasn't sure how well he, or the rest of his family, were going handle next month. One thing he was certain of was that he wasn't going to hit the bottle. Not after what he'd done to Linda and his children; he said he would never put them through that again, and he meant it. Making it through that day – that whole week, rather – was definitely going to be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do, and he didn't know how he was going to do it, but as long as they had each other, they would find a way to make it through. "I think sometimes she didn't like being the youngest, even though she liked being the baby, because she couldn't do things that Gene and Tina were allowed to do."
"Like what?" Nadia asked.
"Well, when she was younger, she didn't really like taking naps," said Linda. "So whenever I'd go to put her down, she'd run and hide. And when I managed to get her into bed, she'd just talk and talk, trying to get me to stay, and she'd always come out of her room."
"Yeah, she'd say she needed a drink or a story, or needed to go potty, but she was just trying to stay awake. And then she'd be grumpy because she was tired," Bob said.
"Do you think a bit of it might have been jealousy?" asked Nadia, resting her pen on her notebook, and surveying Bob.
"Who knows?" he muttered. "It probably was," he admitted after a moment. "She never liked being left out of anything."
Even though Tina didn't take naps at that age, Gene did, but Louise still hadn't been happy that their nap times had different schedules. She would have to go to sleep while Gene and Tina got to play together, and that was unacceptable.
"So, would you say that she could be a little bit hard to deal with sometimes?" questioned Nadia gently.
Bob paused. He looked over at Linda and the kids. They all appeared to be thinking the same thing he was. He swallowed hard.
"Sometimes," he said, looking down at the ground. "I think a lot of it was just her personality, but yeah, she was... rowdy. But, it got less and less over the years. By the time we lost her, she'd calmed down a lot. She was still our Louise, but just calmer."
"I understand." Nadia continued writing; though her face was neutral, she was smiling inside. They were finally learning to bring Louise down from her pedestal.
"But there was so much more to her than that," Linda interjected. "She was a big softie deep down, and she really loved us."
"Of course she did," Nadia said, smiling reassuringly. "And it's important to remember those good times."
"There were lots of good times," said Bob, leaning back in his chair. "Like when she got her bunny ears." He recalled four-year-old Louise's squeal of delight when she tried on her ears for the first time. He spoke of the fire, of how Louise had gotten burned, and of how miserable she had been after it. Getting the bunny ears had been the first time she had smiled since the fire, and that hat had helped her in so many ways.
As Bob continued to talk, Gene looked over to his left, and saw Louise sitting in a chair next to him. She was slouching, looking bored. He smiled slightly at her, and she smirked at him. By now, Gene knew he was only imagining seeing her, and he honestly didn't mind. In fact, it brought him a lot of comfort. Although, admittedly, the first time he had seen her, he had thought he was going crazy. But he was under no misgivings that he was seeing her ghost; this was just something he did to make himself feel better. Sometimes, the only thing that got him through the day was pretending that Louise was still with them. Was it healthy? He didn't know (nor did he really care), but it helped him. Sometimes, it seemed like she was really there.
It had started when he and Tina had returned to school after the summer holidays. He'd had a bad day; forgetting his homework, constantly dropping the ball in P.E., failing spectacularly to answer the maths question on the chalkboard, and to top it off, the lunch lady had run out of fish sticks (and practically everything else), and so Gene had to have cold tuna salad with red beans.
He'd sat, brooding, declining to share Tina's lunch (half wouldn't be enough to sustain him throughout the day) when he'd looked up and saw Louise sitting across from him. Gene had done a double take, certain his eyes were tricking him, when she'd given him an encouraging smile. And then he'd felt like the rest of the day wasn't going to be so bad.
"We were lucky that the teachers let her wear it at school. If they didn't, I think all hell would have broken loose." Bob chuckled a bit, jolting Gene from his thoughts.
"She was never really a mommy's girl," said Linda, "she'd always been for Bob, even as a baby. But, she did spend time with me. She had her own special thing with Bobby, but we would go to the pet store and play with the puppies. She always wanted a dog, you know; all the kids did, but we couldn't do it. The puppy couldn't be in the restaurant, and it would have been left upstairs alone, and it wouldn't be fair, you know?"
"I get that," Nadia smiled.
"So this was, like, the next best thing," Linda continued. "She loved playing with the puppies, and they loved seeing her. Like, they would get real excited when they saw her coming, it was so cute. Sometimes I feel bad about not getting the kids a dog, but I know we can't have one."
"So, Louise was a big animal lover?" Nadia asked.
"Oh, yeah. Huge," said Linda. "Loved pretty much all animals. Wasn't a fan of cats, though. My sister has three of 'em, and they aren't the nicest."
"I know what you mean," Nadia laughed. "I've known a couple of cats like that."
"But she loved dogs the most. And sharks," Linda told her. "She really wanted a pet shark," she said, and Nadia laughed again.
"She would have had a tough time finding a tank big enough, wouldn't she?"
"She said it could live in the bath tub." Linda couldn't help but laugh, and so did everyone else. Louise had been completely serious, as well. She had seen absolutely no problem with a great white shark living in their bath tub. Convinced that she would be able to train it, she had told her amused family that it wouldn't eat them when they needed to bathe. Her next step was to flood the town so the shark could take her to school. (She naturally assumed it would go straight home, like Lassie, and return to pick her up once school ended.)
"And what was she like at school?" asked Nadia.
"Well.. she didn't like it," said Bob after a slight hesitation. "But lots of kids don't. I know I didn't."
"What was she like as a student?"
Again, Bob hesitated.
"She was always playing pranks," he admitted. "She liked doing stuff like that."
"So she was a jokester? Has she always been that way?"
"Well... yeah," said Linda. "Her terrible twos were... terrible! Her tantrums were crazy, and she could scream for hours."
"Oh, yeah." Bob had blocked that out, but now all the memories came rushing back. Toddler Louise throwing her plate because Linda had had the audacity to give her chicken nuggets instead of turkey dinosaurs. Or Louise deciding that she didn't want to wear what Linda had picked out for her, and would run away, her little legs surprisingly fast. After they'd managed to find her, it would take both parents to wrestle her into her outfits, with Louise shouting "no!" and kicking her legs out so they couldn't put her shoes on.
"But, when she was little, she could be really sweet." A fond smile crossed Linda's face. "Sometimes, we'd wake up to find her in our bed. She didn't have, like, bad dreams or anything, she just wanted to be with us. And when she was a baby, Bobby was the only one who could get her to stop crying; she was always such a daddy's girl."
"And is that something that remained as she got older?" asked Nadia.
"No," Bob said, "I think, as she grew up, she kinda got a bit embarrassed about showing affection to us. Is that normal, because Gene and Tina never did that?"
"It's completely normal," Nadia told him. "Most children go through a phase like that. Generally, when they reach a certain age, they want to be taken seriously, and that's why they tend to reject things like toys and cartoons, or in Louise's case, affection in public. But once they get past that stage, they embrace it fully again."
"Louise was going through that second phase," Bob realised. "Before that, she called me 'daddy' until she was eight, and afterwards, she would only call me that when no one else was around. But lately, it was like she was getting over that. I'm glad she got more affectionate," he finished in a quiet voice. His hand reached up and he stroked the locket at his neck.
"She was a great kid," said Linda, and Gene and Tina nodded.
"She sounds like it," Nadia said. "You've made some great progress today. I'd like you to continue with your journals." She handed each Belcher their journal back. "I'm seeing some real improvement there, so keep up with it."
"Okay," Linda nodded, holding her journal to her chest.
"If it's all right, I'd like to give you some tips on how to cope with the anniversary," Nadia suggested gently. When the family nodded, she continued. "Just like with her birthday, you can write her another letter, or even a poem, and read it to her. Another thing to do is make some cards for her, or go for a long walk. Some people like to keep really busy throughout the day to distract them, and if that's something you want to do, then I could maybe help you find something. The most important thing to remember is that it's okay to feel a wide variety of emotions on that day, and it's all completely normal. If you want to celebrate her, that's fine. If you want to mourn her, that's fine, as well."
"Thanks," said Linda, and she and her family began to stand and prepare to leave.
"You're welcome. I'll see you back here on Friday."
The Belchers bade Nadia goodbye, and left the office, their arms around one another. She had given them a lot to think about.
Bob turned the DVD over in his hands, not quite knowing how to feel. It was sweet of Koji to send this to him, but did he really have the strength to watch it?
Turning the DVD around again, he stared at the cover. 'Hawk and Chick vs Isonade' was printed above a poster of a fully grown Yuki and an aged Koji, their weapons raised as the Isonade lurked menacingly behind them, as it leapt out of a barrel wave. Bob stared at the creature, with its spiky body, sharp teeth, and fins, it looked very similar to a shark. Louise would have loved it.
Though Dominic had arranged a screening of the film for the Chicklets, Bob had not attended. Louise had never (technically) got to experience a Hawk and Chick movie on the big screen, (neither had he, come to think of it) and it didn't feel right to go without her. Still, it was nice of Koji to send them a copy.
Knowing how excited Louise was to turn ten, Bob had been planning to arrange a special family screening of a Hawk and Chick movie with the help of Dominic. He knew Louise would have been ecstatic to see her heroes on the big screen, and he'd imagined the moment where he sprung the surprise on her many a time. It would have been in the evening, after cake and presents. Louise would have thought she would get control of the remote (it was her day, after all), when Bob would have suggested they go for a drive. Where, he hadn't planned, nor what he would do if she said no; he wasn't too keen on the idea of wrestling her into the car. But once they were in the car, then he would drive, and he would wonder when the penny would drop. Perhaps not until they were inside the cinema. Maybe not even until the opening credits rolled; Louise would have had no reason to think that they were going to see anything but an ordinary movie. Then she would realise and her face would light up, and she would sneakily hug Bob.
But that would never happen. She would never get to experience that.
Breathing deeply, Bob put the DVD in the player, and picked up the remote. He wasn't going to watch it, but there was something he wanted to see. Muting the television, Bob skipped through the film, keeping his eyes on the bottom corner, until he reached the end credits, which he then let play.
There was the cast, with Koji and Yuki receiving top credit, of course, then the director, then the writers, and then:
'Special Thanks to:
Louise Belcher, who brought a father and daughter back together. Rest in peace.'
Bob stared at the screen, holding his breath until his eyes blurred. Why were Koji and Yuki so good to them? This was possibly the sweetest thing they had ever done. Well, they'd done a lot of sweet things for the Belchers, but this was definitely at or near the top of the list.
Rapidly blinking, Bob turned the DVD off, and walked out of the room.
Bob, Linda, Gene, and Tina were silent as they cleaned the restaurant in preparation for closing. Bob was cleaning the grill, his mouth set as he worked on scraping the flat top, and making it look clean and shiny. Linda cleaned the counter, and wiped down the stools, while Tina swept the floor, and Gene cleaned the tables.
None of them spoke, or even looked at each other. Instead, they all kept their heads down and focused on their respective jobs. The television was switched off, and now that another of Gene's songs had finished playing, so was the radio; instead, the only sounds came from the bristles of the broom sweeping across the floor, the squeaking of the stools, an occasional sniffle here and there.
Bob and Linda had briefly debated on whether they should open or not. It was going to be extremely hard for them to stay focused, but they eventually decided to open, as working would hopefully keep their minds occupied.
That week had been hard, to say the least. Tina had dropped more plates than she had ever dropped in her entire life. Bob had burned more burgers, as well, and they'd been doing their best to keep busy.
Several times, Bob and Linda had gone down to the farm to see Tina and Gene riding Kopi. It was amazing to them to see just how good their kids were at it, and they could see that Tina had been giving Gene tips.
After a fair bit of persuasion, they even rode the horse themselves. Bob had to admit it was fun. A little bumpy and uncomfortable at first, but once he got into it, he'd really enjoyed himself.
Every so often, Linda's hand dipped into the bowl of fruit she kept nearby on the counter. As February had grown closer, her comfort eating had crept back up, so she kept fruit everywhere in sight. Although, yesterday, she had eaten an entire pack of chocolate chip cookies, but this week was going to be extremely difficult, so she was able to justify it.
It wasn't just her; Gene and Tina had been eating more, as well, whereas Bob had gone in the opposite direction, just as before. Both Linda and Bob made no attempt to stop this. Well, they made sure that the kids ate healthily, (Linda kept the junk food hidden away in her room), so at least they were getting their five a day.
It wasn't that bad; okay, yes, she, Gene, and Tina had gained a little weight, while Bob had lost it (again), but it was better than drinking, right? It was just something they needed to make themselves feel better, even if it was only temporary.
The bell rang, and they all simultaneously looked up to see Teddy standing in the doorway, an awkward smile on his face.
"Oh. Hey, Teddy," said Linda quietly, dropping the rag. Tina leaned the broom against the wall, while Gene clambered out of the booth.
"Hey, Linda, hey Bob, kids. You ready?"
"Yeah." Linda retrieved her coat and bag, while Gene and Tina pulled on their jackets, and Bob came into the dining room.
"Hey, Bobby."
"Hi."
Gene squeezed his mother's hand tightly as they headed outside. Bob locked the door behind him, and they walked to their car, while Teddy got in his truck.
The drive was silent; Gene had his hands clasped together, while Tina stared out of the window, barely seeing the town go by. She did not make eye contact with any people she saw, instead quickly averting her gaze. Every so often, Linda would turn around and glance at Gene and Tina, as though making sure they were still there, while Bob focused on the road ahead of him, trying not to think about where they were going.
Still, none of them spoke; there was nothing they could say, or even wanted to say.
When Bob pulled up outside Wharf Park, he felt his stomach drop. Staring straight ahead, he clutched the steering wheel, willing that horrible feeling inside him to go away. Could he really o back to that place? Raising his eyes upward, he clamped his lips together, and took a few deep, calming breaths.
He felt a hand on his and he looked over to see Linda staring at him, the pain in her eyes matching his. Removing his hand from the wheel, he entwined his fingers with her, his eyes saying everything he couldn't.
When Tina and Gene shuffled forwards, Bob and Linda awkwardly twisted around in their seats, and they engaged in a desperate family hug. Gene buried his head into Linda's shoulder, and Bob kissed the top of Tina's head.
Teddy stood outside, waiting patiently, and when the Belchers had gathered themselves, they got out of the car, and, for the first time in a year, they all began walking into the park.
With every step, Bob felt as though he was walking to his doom. Almost blindly, he followed Teddy, not even taking in his surroundings. It was dusk, and the sky was a mixture of light blue and lilac, the colours reflecting off the clear, still surface of the lake. A few stars were dotted here and there, and from up in the trees, they could hear birdsong. Bob had to snort when he heard the birds singing, sounding so happy and carefree. Didn't they know what was happening? How dare they sing, today of all days?
There had been countless tears over the past week. Now that they had reached that terrible day when their world had stopped, it was like they were unable to cry. And returning to the place where the worst moment of their lives had happened was almost too much for them.
The park had once held so many precious memories; picnics with the kids when they were little, birthday parties, fetes. Now, it was this...
Bob couldn't even think of a word to describe it – there weren't enough words in the English language. He just knew that it was tainted, and it would forever be a source of misery to him. After tonight, he never wanted to come back here.
When they reached the open area, they were shocked at what they saw. They had known there was going to be people, but they didn't expect so many. The crowd could have rivalled that one that had gathered during the rescue attempt. It seemed that everybody in Seymour's Bay had turned up; there were all of her friends from school, along with their families. The Wagstaff teachers were there, as were many of their regular customers.
There were pink ribbons tied into bows around trees, and not too far from the crowd was a small group of people surrounding a small folding table, but they couldn't see what was on it.
Olsen Benner and her trusty cameraman, Brian, were there, of course, and Olsen was standing by as Brian filmed some establishing shots of the park for their nightly news segment.
The crowd were clustered in their own little friendship groups, including the police and firemen, as well as what appeared to be all of the diggers. They were chatting, some of them were looking around, and many of them were holding flowers and teddy bears.
The group nearest to the Belchers, consisting of Nat, Theresa, Gretchen, Mike, Mickey, and the One Eyed Snakes, spotted them, and they all turned to face the family, falling silent.
But the Belchers weren't looking at them. They had caught a glimpse of the well, which was nearby, and so they were too busy staring at that.
It had been filled in with concrete the day Louise had died, and had been covered with a metal plate. Welded on top were the words: "R.I.P. Louise Belcher, with love from New Jersey and the world."
One they had seen that, the Belchers couldn't stop staring at it. Gene leaned back into Linda, his legs feeling like jelly, and she hugged him. He looked around, but he didn't see Louise anywhere, and he wondered why she hadn't come. Gene thought she would have wanted to see this, but perhaps she didn't want to be reminded of it all. He guessed he would never know.
Tina gripped Bob's hand tightly, her breath catching in her throat, and he stared at the well until it became blurry. He didn't have the strength for this. He just wanted to go home and cry himself to sleep. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until he didn't hurt any more.
Blinking the tears away. Bob took a deep breath. He couldn't do this; he wanted to leave, but he couldn't seem to move.
Before he had a chance to force his legs to work, to run away as far as he could, Teddy stepped up to the front of the crowd. Slowly, the chattering died away, and everyone remained still as they waited for him to begin.
"Thanks everyone for coming," he said, feeling a little bit nervous with so many eyes upon him. "I know it means a lot to the Burgers; it means a lot to me, too." He gulped, and looked down at his feet before resuming his little speech. "We're here to remember a wonderful little girl, who had her life cut short."
Subconsciously, the Belchers huddled closer together, as sniffles arose from around them. Teddy paused, the speeches he'd found online and melded into one to make it his own seemed to be slipping from his brain with every passing second. "I'm so glad you all could make it; the Burgers are great people, and they deserve every little bit of love and support they get. I know nothing will ever bring back Louise... but we won't ever forget her. And that's why tonight is so important." He spoke a little more quickly now, "Tonight, we are honouring and remembering her with our candlelight of hope, unity, and love." At least he remembered that part.
"Well said," came an unknown voice from deep within the crowd. Teddy acknowledged this with a nod of his head, before he continued.
"In a minute, we'll light the candles, but before we do that, we have someone here who wants to say a little something." Clearing his throat, he stepped aside as Nat walked up in front of him and turned to face the crowd.
She scanned the sea of mournful faces, pulling a small piece of paper from her pocket. Nat found herself unable to look anyone in the eye, least of all the Belchers, and so she looked down at her paper.
"This is just a little something I wrote. It doesn't have a title."
Taking a deep breath, she ripped her eyes from the paper, and finally looked at everyone. As she began to speak, the audience listened respectfully, tears pooling in many an eye.
"In times of darkness, love sees…
In times of silence, love hears...
In times of doubt, love hopes…
In times of sorrow, love heals...
And in all times, love remembers.
May time soften the pain
Until all that remains
Is the warmth of the memories
And the love."
When Nat had finished, she was met with light applause, and, her heart heavy, she looked over at the Belchers. They all wore the same strained, haunted hollow look they'd had for the past year. It broke her heart just to even look at them. "Thank you," she said, turning back to the crowd. "That was dedicated to my favourite family. Louise was a great kid; I miss her every day. And every day, I marvel at the strength and courage Robert, Linda, Gene, and Tina have shown. I can't even imagine what they're going through, and I know it must have taken a lot for them to come here today. I just want them to know that we all love them."
Nat was met with another round of applause, and she walked over to the Belcher family, and hugged them tightly. "I love you guys so much," she whispered, before wiping her eyes and stepping away.
"Thank you, Nat," said Teddy when the applause had died down. "Well, I guess it's time. We'll do the candle lighting now. Can everyone get into rows?"
While the crowd did so, the people at the table, picked up the boxes that were on it, and began walking towards the group.
When they had all got themselves situated, the volunteers handed everyone a single white candle with a drip protector, chatting pleasantly to the crowd.
Bob, Linda, and the kids were standing in the front row, in the centre, with Big Bob and Gayle beside them, and as their candles were lit, they couldn't help but think about what Louise would think of this. Would she like it? They supposed that she would; she loved anything that celebrated her, so she probably would have enjoyed this.
It took a while, but soon all the candles were lit, and at Teddy's word, everyone fell silent. They bowed their heads and they thought about Louise. They thought about how exuberant and full of energy she had been. They thought about how she loved riding the scary rides at Wonder Wharf, and how she tried every trick in the book to get out of taking pop quizzes.
Regular-sized Rudy found himself thinking about how Louise would let her heart get in the way of a prank, causing her to call it off. She would claim she hated how sappy she was, but Rudy had always believed that she didn't mind as much as she seemed to. That was one of the many things he admired about her; she had a reputation for being this crazy, heartless schemer, but, she was a good person. Hey, she'd been friends with him, and she never made fun of him. Well, except when he wouldn't let her blow up his model bridge. But she made it up to him. That was another thing he liked about her; she would always go above and beyond to make things right.
Rudy looked straight ahead, past Teddy, a tear welling in his eye.
The flames flickered gently in the evening chill, but everyone remained still and silent. The whole park was aglow with the collective light, and it shone on the trees, the grass, and the metal cap that covered the well. It had to be said that it was a beautiful sight.
A tear fell down Bob's cheek, but he made no attempt to wipe it away. A sniffle next to him told him that Linda was crying, too. He stared down at his candle, at the dancing flame until his eyes burned, and more tears fell down his cheeks.
When the two minutes were up, the candles were blown out, but the silence remained. It felt wrong to speak, and nobody wanted to be the first one to say something.
"Okay," said Teddy quietly. "I know Bob had something to read. But if he doesn't want to, then we'll understand -"
"No, I'll read it." Bob stepped forward, and turned to face everyone, taking a deep breath. Just like Nat, he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "This is from the whole family." Taking another deep breath, he looked down at the paper, even though he had the words memorised.
"To honour you...
I get up every day and take a breath.
And start another day without you in it."
Bob forced himself to look up, to look his family in the eye. It made them all cry harder, but he couldn't look away. It was a good thing he had the poem memorised because he couldn't see the words on the paper.
"To honour you...
I laugh and love with those who knew your smile
And the way your eyes twinkled with mischief and secret knowledge.
To honour you...
I take the time to appreciate everyone I love,
I know now there is no guarantee of days or hours spent in their presence.
To honour you...
I listen to music you would have liked,
And sing at the top of my lungs, with the windows rolled down
To honour you...
I take chances, say what I feel, hold nothing back,
Risk making a fool of myself, dance every dance.
You were my light, my heart, my gift of love, from the very highest source.
So every day, I vow to make a difference, share a smile, live, laugh and love.
Now I live for us both, so all I do,
I do to honour you."
Bob broke eye contact with his family to look at the applauding crowd, many of whom were crying almost as hard as he was. In an instant, he was surrounded in a bone-crushing hug by his sobbing family. He wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in Linda's hair.
"That was beautiful, Bobby," Linda whispered, as though she and the kids hadn't heard it several times before.
"Thanks." He lifted his head to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. Linda leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
They just had time to give Gene and Tina a kiss on the cheek, before they were surrounded by a mass of people, and enveloped in a gigantic group hug.
The only way Bob could describe it was as though he was covered with a blanket of love. Unknown hands were patting them on the back, gently clapping their shoulders, holding their hands. It felt overwhelming, but in a good way.
"You guys are so strong," came a voice from behind him.
"You're amazing," someone else told them.
More and more voices joined the fray, telling the family how much the vigil meant to them, how great Louise was, and how brave they all were for coming there. It was all very kind, but Bob just wanted to leave.
"That poem was really nice."
Bob craned his neck, and saw Patricia, the sandwich lady.
"Thanks," he said, wiping his wet eyes.
"Did you write it?" she asked, and Bob shook his head.
"No. Well, I helped a little bit, but it was mainly Gene." Reaching out, he blindly found Gene's hand, and gave it a squeeze.
"Well, it was great," she turned to Gene, smiling. "You have talent."
Gene only nodded in reply, his hand squeezing Linda's.
It was now becoming more than a little too much for Bob, and he suddenly felt smothered. But he was surrounded, and he didn't think he had the strength to push through the vast crowd.
Teddy, who seemed to be maturing by the day, noticed Bob's discomfort, and began to move the crowd away. Through the fog of misery in his brain, Bob felt a mixture of awe and confusion at how thoughtful and considerate Teddy had become. He didn't think he would ever get used to it.
"Thanks, guys," said Teddy, when everyone had moved back. "Give 'em some space, huh?" He looked around, before taking a few steps back. "Okay, if everyone's ready, I guess we can, uh..." Teddy vaguely gestured to the well.
The Belchers didn't know what he was referring to, but everyone else seemed to understand, for they spread themselves out and, one by one, they began to place their gifts around the well. The family fell silent, as did everyone else, and they watched as the group laid their teddies, photos, flowers, and other toys down, many of them shedding a tear.
By the time they had finished, the well could hardly be seen, and the Belchers automatically began to walk towards it. When they were in front of it, they stopped, and just stared. If they squinted, they could just about see a tiny portion of the writing on the metal plate, and Gene buried his face in his mother's side.
Linda felt a sudden urge to somehow rip the well out of the ground, to smash that welded plate into a million pieces with her bare hands. Her baby had died here, in this spot right in front of her. Well, eighty feet underground, but it was still right in front of her. It was so unfair; they should not be attending a memorial vigil for their daughter. Louise should be there with them, and they should be doing what normal families do, but she wasn't there, and it was so pointlessly cruel. Now more than ever, Linda could feel that huge, Louise shaped empty hole in her life.
She hugged Gene tighter, if only to stop herself from going on the rampage. She had to get away; she didn't know how much longer she could stand it there.
Stepping away from the well, Linda wiped her eyes, and turned to face everyone.
"Thank you all for doing this," she said quickly, feeling the rest of her family turn around as well. She paused for a moment to compose herself, before continuing. "This is so – I can't even describe it, but it's one of the sweetest things ever, so thanks. It means a lot that you all still care about Louise, and that you haven't forgotten her."
Bob nodded, but found himself unable to speak.
"No one could forget Louise," said Rudy quietly, but no one heard him.
"So, this was so, so sweet of you all, but we're gonna go home now."
Teddy nodded understandingly, as did many of the others.
"That's okay, Linda," he said. "Do you need me to come with you?" he asked, and Linda shook her head.
"We'll be fine, thanks." She held her breath to keep from bursting into tears, and she took a few steps forward, desperate to get away. She stopped, struck by a sudden thought. "Oh! Whose idea was this?"
"... Mine," said Rudy after a short pause, taking a meek step forward. "But Teddy got everything all set up; I just had the idea," he added quietly, feeling undeserving of the hug Linda had immediately wrapped him in, nor the kiss she planted on his head. He couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed when she called him a great kid, and that Louise had been lucky to have a friend like him. He didn't think he was that great; he'd seen similar vigils online, and had simply thought that it would be a nice way to remember his friend. "No problem," was all he found he could say.
He stumbled back slightly as Linda released him, and she gave him a small smile, which he tried to return.
Teddy, looking like a little lost puppy, was fighting hard to keep his emotions in check, as Linda, her bottom lip trembling, took her son's hand. Bob took Tina's hand, and she and Gene held hands as the four of them left the park, their heads bravely held high.
As they walked, they thought about Louise. They thought about what she would have been doing – what they all would have been doing, on what would have been a regular February day. Would she have been trying to force her restaurant chores onto her siblings? Or would she be trying to rope them into going along with her latest plan? It was getting late; if Louise had planned anything, she sure had left it to the last minute. Or perhaps she would be curled up on the sofa with her family, finishing up a movie, and getting ready to go to bed. Linda preferred to think about that scenario; just her perfect family spending time together. She desperately wished that that last one was true, although if she was honest, Linda just wanted Louise to be with them. She didn't care what Louise would get up to – she could rob a bank as far as Linda cared – as long as her baby was back with them.
~ X ~