Epilogue:
The Thanksgiving celebration lasted for another two hours after Cassidy and David and the Jareau-Prentiss family left, and by ten o'clock, the only people remaining were Sandy and her older sister Marge, who offered to help clean up. They worked quietly, gathering the dirty silverware, plates, and plastic cups that had been abandoned throughout the house. While Sandy was still stewing in her residual anger from the fight with her daughter-in-law, Marge was contented with waiting her out. When the house was back in order and there was nothing left for Sandy to do to avoid talking to her sister, she finally broke her silence.
"I need a drink." She muttered, more to herself than Marge.
"What you need is to talk." Marge countered.
"I've had enough talking for today." Sandy argued, giving her sister a peeved glare.
"I'll make you a deal. I will pour you a glass of whatever you want to drink if you agree to talk."
Marge watched the conflict play out on her sister's face over what decision to make.
"Bourbon is difficult to open one handed, so I suggest you take my offer." Marge added.
"Fine," Sandy huffed. "But make it a double."
Marge pulled a bottle of Woodford Reserve from the liquor stash and two rocks glasses from the cupboard, then gave each a generous pour of the amber liquid. After handing one of the glasses to Sandy, she pulled open the door to the freezer, grabbed a few cubes of ice, and popped them in her own. She took a seat at the table then motioned with a nod for Sandy to sit, earning her an exaggerated sigh from the younger woman. Sandy complied begrudgingly and took a large swig from her drink, wincing slightly when it burned down her throat as she swallowed.
"I kept up my end of the bargain." Marge stated, taking a much more conservative sip of her drink than her sister. "You're turn."
"Save your lawyer skills for the courtroom, Marge." Sandy complained.
Marge was a defense attorney - levelheaded, confident, outspoken. Those qualities had driven Sandy crazy since they were kids, because nine times out of ten she had been the one on offense as her sister backed her into a corner with just her words. Not to mention, she did so while she stayed infuriatingly cool, calm, and collected.
Silence fell back over the room as Sandy stalled, taking another gulp of her drink, nearly draining her glass. She avoided Marge's gaze, but nonetheless squirmed under the intensity. At last, she couldn't handle the pressure any longer.
"What am I supposed to say?" Sandy griped, hunching down lower in her seat.
"How about you tell me why JJ isn't here tonight." Marge suggested casually.
"How should I know?"
"Try again."
"Because she's a selfish child and doesn't care about me. Jennifer- "
"No." Marge cut her off.
"What do you mean no? Jenn- "
"No." Marge repeated calmly. "It is not because she's selfish or doesn't care about you and don't call her Jennifer."
"Her name is Jennifer Margaret Jareau." Sandy hissed, slamming her empty glass on the table. "I named her after you, which mind you, I am starting to regret."
"Sandra." Marge said quietly, making Sandy sneer in distaste and effectively proving her point. "Is it really so hard to call her JJ?"
"I don't see why it's wrong for me to call her Jennifer when that is what I named her, Margaret." Sandy said, tapping the table with her finger to punctuate her words.
"I think you know how much it hurts her when you call her that." Marge stressed.
She leaned forward, setting her drink aside and folding her hands on the table in front of her.
"But I think you ignored her request because you are losing your control over her and are desperately clinging to what is left."
"How dare you!" Sandy seethed.
"I'm not finished." Marge insisted in an intense yet calm tone. "Today may very well have been the last time you'll see your daughter, because of the way you treated her."
"Not another word Margaret May!" Sandy shouted abruptly, jumping to her feet, the force sending her chair screeching backward. "Just because you're older, doesn't give you the right to speak to me that way!"
"Sandra Rose sit back down." Marge warned in a low and serious voice.
Sandy glared heatedly at Marge and worked her jaw. She clenched her fist, clearly wishing she could punch something, preferably her sister's face, but ultimately complied and returned to her seat
"I need you to put aside your anger for a moment and stop interrupting, just listen. JJ might never come back here again and good for her if she doesn't, because it means she finally realized enough is enough. It means she's finally learning how to let go of her past, finally letting herself heal after what she had to endure."
Marge idly ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass, watching as Sandy struggled to maintain her defensiveness, then stilled as she pressed on.
"When Roslyn died, you buried yourself in your grief, you tried to forget and pretend like nothing had happened. But forgetting was nearly impossible when the last good thing in your life was also the most painful reminder of everything you lost. You couldn't bear to look at your daughter, so you took your grief out on her instead. I watched as you pushed her away time after time, over and over and over again. You would ignore her or turn her away when she asked anything of you, because you knew that despite your dismissal, she would always come back to try again. It broke my heart to see the light in her eyes die a little more each time. She used to be happy, Sandra. When was the last time you saw your little girl happy?"
"Stop." Sandy protested, this time in a hissed whisper.
"When was the last time you two sat down and had a conversation without one of you yelling or someone ending up in tears? Because it certainly wasn't tonight."
Sandy saw it in her sister's face, Marge had heard the screaming match from earlier that evening. She didn't know how much she had heard, but Sandy knew she had witnessed enough of it.
"Did you never wonder why she was so angry and had so many outbursts growing up, why the smallest of things would set her off?"
"Stop."
"Have you ever once put your pride away long enough to realize that maybe, just maybe she wasn't being needy, rather her needs were not being met?"
"Marge, stop it." Sandy's voice wavered, emotion clawing its way into her words and her demeanor.
"I will never forget the day JJ tried to run away. It was her fifteenth birthday and you were giving her the silent treatment, again. You know, she begged me not to take her home when I found her. She screamed and fought me until her strength gave out and she fell asleep in my arms."
Sandy had no memory of the day but felt the guilt and shame creep in regardless. The taste was bitter, making her feel sick to her stomach.
"I watched your little girl – my niece – shroud herself in anger to protect herself." Marge's eyes went glassy, her voice broke on the painful words. "I looked into her eyes that day, just as she was about to drift off, and you know what I saw?"
"Please stop." Sandy whispered, the words barely audible as they passed her lips.
"I saw a young girl who was exhausted and hurt and terrified to go home to her mother, someone who was supposed to be the safest person in the world. You broke your little girl, Sandy. You shattered her into a million tiny pieces."
"Stop!" Sandy begged.
"And if it weren't for your daughter-in-law…" Marge sighed sadly. "Roslyn wouldn't be the only daughter you had to bury."
"But- I- " Sandy stammered, stunned.
Her vision blurred, eyes stinging with tears of shame and realization. Marge's words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head, startling and cold.
"I don't ever want to have this conversation with you again, Sandra Rose," Marge stated firmly.
It was tough love, but her sister needed to realize and own up to what she had done, needed to change her ways.
"The damage is already done, and nothing can erase the years of pain and trauma you caused her. But… you have the chance to turn over a new leaf. It's time to face the music and admit to what you've done. Get the help you need."
"I don't need a therapist, Margaret!" Sandy snapped, her expression morphing into one of anger as she stuffed down her guilt once more.
Marge sighed disappointedly. She looked at Sandy with a saddened expression, then pushed back her chair and carried her glass to the sink wordlessly.
"Where are you going?" Sandy asked angrily.
Marge didn't respond, just headed to the hall closet for her coat and bag.
"Margaret May, where the hell are you going?!"
Marge stopped with one arm in a coat sleeve, then turned to face her sister.
"I'm done."
Those words were familiar. It was exactly what her daughter had said to her earlier that night.
"Let me know when you pull your head out of your ass and start acting like an adult. Until then, I cannot help you. I suggest you get your shit together before you lose her for good if you haven't done so already. Goodbye, Sandy."
With that, Marge slipped on the other sleeve of her coat and left, leaving Sandy standing awkwardly in the hallway. Sandy's rage simmered the longer she stood there. She finally stomped back to the kitchen and grabbed her glass off the table, intending to drown her overwhelming thoughts in whiskey, but found it empty. Damn it! Sandy hurled the offending object at the wall and watched it shatter, triggering a sense of déjà vu. That wasn't the first glass object she'd thrown in a fit of anger. Sandy paused, her anger momentarily dampened as she struggled to identify what memory was lingering, making her feel the familiarity of this scene.
"I'm sick of your childish behavior Jennifer." Sandy scolded.
"Stop calling me that! I don't like- "
"Don't interrupt me, child! Honestly, you know better than to treat me with such disrespect. I'm disappointed in you and the way you've been acting. I will not tolerate it, you understand, Jennifer?... I said do you understand?... Jennifer, you answer me this instant!"
JJ stuck her tongue out in response. It was the last straw. Sandy picked up a vase of flowers off the kitchen counter and hurled them at the wall, shattering a mere foot away from JJ. The young girl froze, wide-eyed and terrified.
"Jennifer Margaret Jareau, this is not funny! This behavior of yours is absolutely unacceptable! No, you know what, I can't even look at you right now."
Sandy turned and walked away.
"Mom, wait! I'm sorry!" JJ squeaked, stumbling after her mother. "Mom. Mommy, please!"
Sandy tuned her out, pretending the young girl did not exist. She went about the house straightening up and completing chores while JJ clutched at her arms, her clothes, her legs.
"Say something!" JJ begged.
Sandy started to hum to herself, further distracting from the sobs and wailing that followed her. Eventually, JJ stopped trailing behind her and resorted to burying into the couch. Sandy ignored her daughter for the rest of the day. She ate dinner alone. Watched TV alone. Living alone felt good.
The memory hardly felt like her own. Sandy remembered everything about that day, but it didn't feel like she had lived it. Did that really happen? She shook her head slightly to clear the memory then grabbed the garbage can and started cleaning up the glass. When picking up one of the larger pieces, she cut her thumb.
"Shit!" Sandy hissed.
Abandoning the mess, she pulled the box of first aid supplies down from the cabinet. She pulled off the plastic lid and haphazardly dug around in the container, trying not to get blood on everything. After rifling around for another minute, Sandy realized she was out of bandaids.
"Mom, can you grab me a Band-Aid? I cut myself…Mom… Mom!"
Jennifer had wrapped her finger in gauze, Sandy remembered. Pushing past that thought, Sandy grabbed a wad of gauze and finagled it onto the wound using her injured hand as minimally as possible. It was a long and difficult process, but she managed. She then closed the box and put it back on the shelf, ignoring the thought of her daughter going through the same motions earlier that day, then finished cleaning up the glass with a broom and dustpan- another difficult task to complete with one good hand.
A yawn escaped Sandy's lips, reminding her of the long and exhausting day she'd had. She flicked off the light in the kitchen and then headed to the living room. She was approaching the remaining light switch when, without warning, her ankle rolled. She stumbled and caught herself heavily on the bookshelf. The force of the impact shook the tall wooden unit, sending a few picture frames and a photo album tumbling to the floor.
Once she recovered from the shock, Sandy retrieved the frames and set them in their rightful places. She then grabbed the photo album to return it to its spot but stopped when she saw the pictures the book had opened to. It was a series of photos from Roslyn's sixteenth birthday party- her last birthday. Sandy gingerly lowered herself to the ground and picked up the album, brushing her fingertips along the plastic covers on top of the photos.
Roslyn linked arm in arm with her best friend.
Roslyn blowing out the candles stuck in a carton of ice cream- she never did like cake.
Jennifer giggling as Roslyn stuck a loopy red bow on the younger blonde's head.
Sandy's throat tightened at the memories and tears pricked at her eyes. She flipped the page to the next set of photos, observing each one carefully.
JJ sitting on Roslyn's shoulders in the pool, both girls tanned and beaming brightly.
A candid of Roslyn sitting on the couch reading a book- something seemed off though.
Another candid, this time of both girls on a picnic. JJ was munching happily on a sandwich while Roslyn sat next to her on the blanket, picking at her nails. Ros looked tired.
Ros and JJ playing cards together at the kitchen table. JJ had a smug look on her face like she was about to win. Ros looked tired again, also spaced out like she wasn't even paying attention to the game.
Sandy realized, after glancing at the next few photos, that that was the last photo she had ever taken of Ros. She slid the photo out of the protective plastic and examined it closer. The back was dated September 1991, just a month before she died. Sandy studied the photo for a moment longer before gingerly sliding it back in the album and flipping to the next page.
JJ standing in front of their Christmas tree- her face expressionless. It was her first Christmas without her sister and last with her dad.
JJ in her Easter dress- she was smiling, but it didn't meet her eyes.
Then there was a jump in time from April to August- JJ's first day of seventh grade. She was dressed in her school uniform with a simple black backpack slung over one shoulder. There were tears in her tired blue eyes as she clearly forced a smile for the camera.
"For heaven's sake stop crying and smile Jennifer!"
Sandy's stomach dropped with the realization, she was the cause of those tears, that forced smile. This was the first time she had thought about the past and now knew why. It was too painful. With every new photo came a new sickening memory.
JJ after a sophomore year soccer game, her nose swollen and blood stains on her sky-blue jersey. She nearly broke her nose that day, after she took a wayward ball to the face. Her team had qualified for regionals with that game, but she wouldn't smile for the picture after they'd won.
"Just take the picture."
"Then smile, Jennifer."
"I don't want to smile, Mom."
"But you just won. You're going to nationals!"
"Regionals. Please, can you just take the picture so we can go home."
The result was a scowl and a glare full of pain and exhaustion. The next photo hurt even more.
JJ and her friends all lined up for pictures before their senior prom. She stood stiffly in the middle, barely smiling and looking like she might keel over if she let go of the girl next to her. Her eyes told Sandy she was exhausted and defeated.
Sandy's heart squeezed as she recognized the lifelessness in her daughter's eyes. Wait! She pulled out that photo then the one of Roslyn and compared the two. Same blonde hair. Same tall slender frame. Same dull look in their eyes. No. Sandy quickly flipped to the next page in search of pictures where her daughter was happy again, the pit in her stomach growing each time she registered that dull look in JJ's eyes.
"No," Sandy whispered aloud in disbelief. "I would have seen it."
There had to be a picture where her little girl was happy. Sandy kept turning pages, frantically now. She watched her daughter grow up in a matter of a minute. Soccer games, high school graduation, holidays, college graduation. As each picture became more recent, JJ's smile slowly faded to a tightlipped smile, her eyes losing their vibrance. Sandy's heart sank when she came to the end of the album, but then she saw it. She yanked the photo from the pocket and caressed it with the pad of her thumb. It was a snapshot of JJ with Emily and the boys one summer when the two women had been dating for a year and a half- they had all gone out for ice cream. JJ was laughing at her younger son whose face was covered in chocolate ice cream. Her eyes were twinkling, her smile was easy.
Sandy noticed there had been another photo behind the first and pulled it out too. The second photo was of just the two of them after they were married. It had been among a collection of printed photos JJ had sent her of her grandsons. In the photo, Emily was kissing JJ's cheek while the blonde wrapped her arms around her and looked directly into the camera. Her eyes were crystal blue, glimmering and happy.
Sandy looked between the pictures she'd pulled. The genuine happiness in her daughter's face bookended decades of blank stares and forced smiles.
"Oh god, what have I done!" Sandy sobbed, terrified by what she was seeing.
She was the cause of that lifeless expression. Marge was right, she had broken her little girl. She had stolen the joy, stolen the light from her daughter's eyes and even worse, it had taken her decades to notice. She had blinded herself to her daughter's pain. Sandy felt as if she had just woken up from a thirty-year long nightmare, but she was the monster. She wanted to cry or throw up or drink herself into oblivion, anything to stop the feeling of guilt overrunning her body. How could she have failed so badly as a mother?
Sandy sat on that living room floor all night and cried. She cried for herself and her failed marriage. She cried for the daughter she had lost to suicide and the daughter who she had almost driven to doing the same. Sandy felt the weight of the knowledge that she had ruined the last good thing in her life, and there was no one to blame but herself.
