Are You Sitting Down? (32 page)

Justin’s grave was several lots away.
It was quicker to get back in my car and drive over to it. In death, if I chose to be buried by my family,
I
’d still have to be apart from him.
For now, the idea of being cremated and having my ashes scattered next to him sounded like a good idea.
If I died tomorrow, or even next week or next month, that’s what I would have done.

I kn
e
w if I lived to be eighty
by then there
might
have been other friends met and memories created which might d
e
termine a different place to go in the afterlife.
Justin would
have
want
ed
me to meet someone else and be happy, but for now, my heart still belonged to him.
I wanted to be near him if I did go.

The shiny black marble was like a
n oyster
’s glistening pearl.
I could see it right away as I steadied the car down the narrow path to where Justin was buried.
It was beautiful. Gravestones are such beautiful monuments, celebrations of those we loved.
It’s sad to think they never get to see it, but faith tells me they do see it.
My heart told me now that Justin indeed liked his headstone.

JUSTIN “JB” BLACK

APRIL 20, 1976
 

JUNE
12
, 2010

He hated his middle name, Oliver.
He thought it was odd because h
is initials spelled JOB.
I left it off
for him
and put JB instead.
I’m glad I had come so early; I had yet to see a
n
other car in the cemetery.
Sometimes when we know we are alone, we are more likely to say the true things we need to say.
I ignored the bitter wind and its attempt to chase me away.
I
n
stead, I sat down on the ground next to Justin.
The rectangular patch of grass had grown back quickly over where he was
laid
, but it too was brown and gray from where an earlier frost had already fallen.

For a moment, I cleared my head of the loneliness and pi
c
tured Justin sitting on the ground across from me.
The grass was green again and it was April.
Both of us woke up and d
e
cided to call in sick to work.
We had a late morning in bed before having our coffee. That afternoon we’d gone to the park for a picnic and to enjoy the first days of spring.
It was Justin’s birthday, and he wanted to go to the zoo afterwards.
It was a simple day and we always made an effort to share many like them.
I’m glad my head was filled with those days
,
and they weren’t hard to grasp onto when I needed a memory of him.

The words I spoke in my head to him were not new ones.
Like the flower lady said, Justin knew I loved him.
We told each other everyday.
The ten years we’d spent together seemed like a lifetime when we were living them.
Now that he was gone, it seemed like it only lasted as long as the blink of an eye.
I almost forgot about the roses I’d bought.
Going back to the car to get them,
I spotted a car over the hill entering the cemetery.
It looked like Ellen’s.

I watched her drive by Dad’s grave and slow down, but she didn’t stop.
Maybe it wasn’t her.
The car turned toward the right and started in my direction
but passed
by me.
It was Ellen behind the wheel.
She never turned and looked in my direction.
Her mind was somewhere else.
She parked just down the hill and got out to approach another grave I was not familiar with.
From
where I
stood I could
look down the hill and see her.
She wiped her eyes and I wondered who she was crying for.
She stood several feet from the marker as if unsure
about
getting any closer.

I guess I had stood there looking at her for too long, b
e
cause eventually the feeling that someone was watching overcame
her
.
She glanced over her shoulder, the wind whi
p
ping her hair in her face, and looked right at me.
She turned away for a second unaware of anyone standing there besides a stranger, then she turned back again for a longer look
assuming her mind was playing a trick on her.
It wasn’t.
I slowly raised a hand and waved
, not moving my fingers, just a palm in the air like I knew the answer to our questions.

Although we were brother and sister, neither of us had words for each other
that
day.
At any other place, any other time, we would have run to each other and embraced and at least said hello.
Today, both of us just got back into our cars and drove away.
Neither of us waited for the other to leave so we could drive by the grave and see who the other had been looking at.
She took the nearest cross road which led to a side entrance where a grounds keeper had just opened the gate.
I laid the roses down in front of Justin’s stone and said my good-bye for the day.
Back in the car, at the end of my path I turned to the left and went back the way I came.

At the entrance, I glanced back across the road to the old flower shop.
The sign for the roses was gone, along with the neon sign in the window.
The window had been broken out.
There was no sign on the door, no bell on the knob.
The yard still looked overgrown and the decaying plants still lingered in pots on the porch, but the house looked empty.
And
maybe
it probably was
, or maybe I was just seeing things, imagining it all.
I look back and think about that day now and can’t reme
m
ber
.

It
had
already
been a day that needed
no explan
a
tion.

Martin

The kids were anxious to go to Grandma’s to see their co
u
sins, aunts, and uncles.
Daniel
was
seven
, the oldest of the four grandchildren.
His sister, Nicole, was
six
.
They both went to the grade school where I taught before.
I love
d
my kids, but I think they enjoyed school more knowing their dad wasn’t a teacher there.
They had both always been very independent, and I don’t know how they might react by the time they reach
ed
high school.
There was another biology teacher b
e
sides myself, so neither of the kids would have to be in my class, unlike the way it would have been if I’d kept teaching junior high.

Like most kids their age, they had already picked jobs for when they gr
e
w up.
I knew their answers well because every grownup in town asked them when stopping us to talk at the grocery store or at the end of church.
Daniel
want
ed
to be a professional baseball player or a veterinarian.
Nicole want
ed
to be a teacher like Daddy or some type of detective, maybe even a ballerina.
I had those dreams too when I was their age.
I wanted to be an acrobat or a teacher like Dad.
The latter choice won since it was the easiest, and my parents paid for college tuition.

Marline was a bank teller at Citizens National, one of only four banks in this town.
Her father was bank president, and his father before that.
Thanks to some wise investing of our sa
v
ings, and a cash gift from Grandpa,
Daniel
and Nicole could afford to go to college to be whatever they want
ed
.
I prayed for the baseball player and the ballerina, any large dream that could shake the clutches this small town
can have
on people.

I was just a Biology teacher, but that didn’t exempt me from the social status among students and teachers which d
e
termine
d
how “cool” you
we
re.
Students all had their favorite classes and favorite teachers.
The cool kids didn’t like science of any kind, only the nerds.
So, those students and the teachers who taught those classes were immediately at the bottom of the totem pole.
Next came the jocks.
These were the stupid ones who gave witty answers to questions in class to get a laugh, if they came to class at all.
Behind closed doors, w
e were urged to pad their grades so they could play, if they were any good and the team couldn’t win without them.

Next came the smart kids who were popular only b
e
cause they were also cheerleaders or played on a team.
They were the student council, the yearbook and newspaper editors, and the academic top ten.
These kids had rich parents who bought them cars for their sixteenth birthday.
Danyele Child fell into this category, so I had no idea what she saw in me.
I’m sure h
er s
e
duction was only a plan to insure a good grade, and I fell victim to it, putting my career and family in jeopardy.

The
guilt
had been unbearable at first.
I stayed awake at night contemplating on going to the police.
I wanted to come clean with Marline, but I knew the outcome would ruin our marriage.
Danyele’s disappearance was absurd, and it was even more absurd to blame myself for it.
This all just had to be bad timing, or was it?
I had to stop thinking and obsessing over it.
There was nothing I could do to change the past.
It was a secret I’d hopefully take to
my
grave.

I just knew there would be a knock at the door one day or a photograph mailed to Marline at the bank.
But the incrimina
t
ing mail never came, and the police never showed up to ask questions.
I eventually convinced myself to stop holding my breath.
My wounded conscience would never be healed, but over time the weight of it had been lifted.
We never forget the sins we commit against ourselves, the mi
s
takes we make in life.
We ask God to forgive us; maybe our loved ones forgive us over time if they even know what we’ve done.
Being able to forgive
yourself
is what takes the longest, if it ever happens at all.

We raise our kids and teach them to hopefully
not
make the same mistakes we made in life, but there will always be a lesson we forget to teach them.
In life, our loved ones are a
l
ways the ones that hurt us the most.
And yet, sometimes we don’t even know it.
Silence may keep them from the harm, but it doesn’t keep us from hurting ourselves.

“Dad, can we walk to Grandma’s?”
Daniel
asked.

Marline and I had just started letting the kids walk to Grandma’s on their own.
There was no fence separating
us
from what was left of the orchard between our yard and hers, so it was easy to make sure they stayed away from the road.

“I guess so.
Are you ready to go now?”

“Yes,” he elongated, afraid I would say he couldn’t go yet.

“Go ask your sister if she wants to go too.”

“Okay.”

Daniel
trotted off to the den where
Nicole
was helping her mother finish up some gift wrapping.
I followed.
Nicole
leapt to her feet from her place on the floor and ran to put on her shoes.
Marline and I had intended on sending the kids shortly anyway so that we could play Santa Claus.
We’d put out the kids
’
gifts while they were gone, so when we returned home tonight it would look as though Santa had come while we were just down the road.

“Kids, do you think Santa might come while we are gone?”
I asked.

Their eyes lit up.

“Do you want to put out some milk
and
cookies just in case?”
Marline asked.

“Yes!”
t
hey cried with joy.

In the kitchen, I helped
Daniel
pour the milk while Marline helped
Nicole
pick out some homemade cookies to leave on a saucer for Santa.
We lifted each of them up so they could sit the milk and cookies on top of the mantel along with a Chris
t
mas card they both had signed in crayon print.

“Can I trust each of you to take a gift to Grandma’s and not drop it on the way?”
Marline asked.

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison
,
pulling on their coats.

I knelt to help
Daniel
with the buttons while Marline dug under the tree for what gifts to send with them.
Marline knew that no matter whose gifts she sent with the kids, they would walk in the door and immediately run to that person and give them the gift right away instead of putting it under the tree like they were instructed to do.
She gave them Clare and Seba
s
tian’s gifts from the kids, knowing they would not read the tag,
but
told them they were for Grandma.

Marline escorted the
m
outside while I called Mom to tell her the kids were on their way.
Mom would watch for them out her kitchen window even though it was just a few yards for them to walk.
I told Mom they were bringing a few gifts with them.
She said she would make sure they got under the tree.

“Are you guys coming down soon?
Everyone else is here,” Mom said.

“We are going to play Santa first, and then we’ll be down,” I said.

Hanging up the phone, I went outside and slipped an arm around Marline’s waist.
Daniel
and
Nicole
were half way across the yard.
We waved to Mom who had stepped out her backdoor to welcome the kids
.
They ran to her and presented her with the two gifts.
She hugged them for the gif
t
s and then opened the door for them.
She waved
back to us
as she followed them inside.

Back inside, we both went upstairs to our bedroom where the kids’ gifts were tucked secretly in the back of our walk-in closet.
Marline had already wrapped most of the ones she bought back in November.
Daniel
’s gifts were all wrapped in Santa Claus paper with a green background.
Nicole
’s gifts were wrapped in hot pink ballerina paper.
I helped Marline carry them downstairs and we s
a
t them all on the sofa for now.
We’d have to clear out all of the gifts to take to Mom’s to make room under the tree first.

I grabbed two large plastic storage containers from the basement while she pulled the rest of the wrapped boxes out from under the tree.
Loading the gifts into the containers car
e
fully as to not rip the paper, both containers were soon full and we still had three more shirt-size
d
boxes
we’d
carry
by the
m
selves
.
I moved the containers of gift
s out to the car.
Marline waited for me to come back inside so together we could a
r
range
Santa’s
gifts under the tree,
Daniel
’s on one side and
Nicole
’s on the other, with plenty of room in between for the
m
to rip off the paper and play.