Danny's Mom (20 page)

“I know. And now as an adult, you realize that where you walked had no connection to your mother. But back then, you believed it did, and that if you didn't follow the ridiculous rule, you'd be responsible for the negative consequence. So believing that silly rhyme made you fearful in a way. But it did something else too—something much more important. Believing that made you feel as if you had the power to effect change, and so it gave you the sense that you had some control over your universe.”

“And you think that's what I'm doing again?”

“Yes. I think that's exactly what you're doing. I think you're trying to grab control like a little girl who'll believe anything that makes her feel as if she has some power over her destiny or the destiny of her family.” When Dr. Goldstein said that, I thought of what my father had told me on my first day back at work: that kids have no power. And I pictured Tina, who squeezed all the power she could until she raged out of control, trying to dominate her world. And then Peter, who sacrificed his humanity to garner control over Meadow Brook.

“But going crazy isn't giving me control over anything.”

“You're not going crazy, Beth. You're going through mourning. When did Danny die?”

“Three months ago.”

“And you remember how you felt during the first few weeks?”

“Like I couldn't breathe. Like someone had smashed my chest with bricks. I felt that way till I went back to work, three weeks after the accident.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“Tired. Really tired. By the end of the day, all I want to do is sleep. And angry. I'm so angry—at my husband, at people at work. Sometimes I feel angry at everyone but Kate.”

“You're not going crazy, Beth,” Dr. Goldstein told me again. “What you're describing is a very normal, very natural reaction to grief. You're struggling for control over what happens so you won't experience more catastrophes. You're not as numb as you were in those first couple of months after Danny died. So, maybe now you're starting to feel powerless in the face of tragedy. When bad things happen to us, we often feel like children, with little influence on our world. So even though you realize your consequence game can't really protect you, your mind's working overtime to give you a false sense of power over things you can't control. Perhaps if you understand that, you won't be so hard on yourself. You're not going crazy. You're just responding to grief.”

I reached for the box of tissues Dr. Goldstein had placed on the couch. “Thank you. Kate was right. I should have come here sooner.”

“Well, you're here now. And we have plenty to talk about. You went back to work really fast, you know. Probably too early, given the kind of work you do. It takes some people a couple of years to be reasonably functional after losing a child.”

“But everyone told me it was time to go back. Joe went back after only a week. And now I think he really needs help too. I wish he'd be willing to see you. I don't think he talks to anyone.”

“People grieve in different ways. You need to talk, but maybe Joe doesn't. Maybe he's not ready yet.”

When I left Dr. Goldstein's, I didn't count trees or stop signs or traffic lights. I didn't get on the highway right away, either. Instead, I pulled into the King Kullen parking lot and headed for Baskin Robbins at the corner of the shopping center. I realized I was starving.

As I drove home, though, it was my thoughts, rather than the ice cream, that obliterated my hunger. Maybe Tina, Peter, and I weren't so different after all—all trying to grab power and seize control. But I needed to take control to help Liz; Tina and Peter were using whatever power they held to hurt her. Together, we had trapped Liz in our struggle. I wondered: Had Joe and I both trapped Danny? What if I had been strong enough to have snatched some of the power from Joe? If I would have spoken out, would Joe have backed down? And then would Danny have been home tonight?

Joe was in the den when I came in from Dr. Goldstein's—watching a
Seinfeld
rerun in which a college reporter assumes Jerry and George are gay. Jerry denies it. “Not that there's anything wrong with it,” he adds.

After Joe and I first saw that episode, we tacked Jerry's line onto all conversations. “Anyone want more chicken?” I'd ask at dinner. “No thanks,” Joe would answer. “Not that there's anything wrong with it.”

“That's so dumb,” Danny would say, laughing. “I can't believe you're my parents.”

Now I wanted to tell Joe about Dr. Goldstein, not what he had said but how easy he was to talk to. I wanted to ask Joe to reconsider going. Even though I knew he'd say no, I wanted to hear it.
No
, I wanted him to say.
Not that there's anything wrong with it.

But we didn't talk about Dr. Goldstein. “Your father called,” Joe said when he looked up from the TV. “I told him you were out, but I didn't tell him where.”

“Thanks. But it's no secret.”

Joe focused again on the screen.

“Not that there's anything wrong with it,” I said, my voice soft and tentative.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Not that there's anything wrong with it.’”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. It's not important.”

“Beth?” His voice caught me as I started to leave. “About tomorrow night. I know I said I'd go with you when you stop by the junior prom, but I can't.”

“But you've always gone with me. And Tom's gonna be there with Callie.”

“I can't. I just can't.”

“Please, Joe. I know how painful it is. Don't you think it's agonizing for me? But I have to do this. Please come with me.”

“I told you, I can't.”

“Okay, I guess you have a choice. But I don't. I already told my students I'd be there, and Callie's worked really hard on the decorations. So I suppose I'm going by myself. I'm starting to get used to that.” Credits scrolled on the TV. “Not that there's anything wrong with it,” I whispered. Then I listened for Danny's laugh.

After ten junior proms I knew what to expect on the big day. Juniors came to school because they had to: if their names were on the absence list, they'd be barred from the prom.

Alison Thompson saw me third period. “Mrs. Maller, you have to come to the gym. You won't believe how great it looks already. Mrs. Harris has the whole decorating committee working all day. You're gonna be there tonight, right?”

“Sure, Ali. I wouldn't miss it.”

“Great. ’Cause I want you to meet my boyfriend. He just finished his first year at Binghamton. I told you that already, didn't I?”

“I believe you did. His name's Eric, right?”

“Wow. You have a great memory. So anyhow, I'm glad you'll be there. And I have to get back to the gym, but Mrs. Harris said I should invite you to come and help.”

On the way, Alison described her black dress so completely I saw every button, even the top one with a tiny satin rosebud. Peter blocked me at the gym door. “Go ahead, Alison,” he said. “I need to talk to Mrs. Maller.”

As Alison went in, I heard the pounding of a CD. “Yes, Peter?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, the kids just wanted me to see how the room's shaping up for tonight.”

“And the counseling center's closed at the moment?”

“Of course not. But I had a free minute, so I took Alison up on the invitation. I'll be back in the office in no time.”

“You're right about that. I'm escorting you back right now.”

I didn't see the decorations in the gym until that night, when I arrived a half hour after the prom started. Despite Callie's pleading for me to go with her and Tom, I had taken my own car. That way I'd be able to leave if the evening got too hard. If I pictured Danny in a tuxedo. If I started to cry.

Callie raced to the door when she saw me. “So whaddaya think?” she called over the music.

“Cal, this is incredible!” The volcano I had seen in the art room bubbled in the center of the gym. “How did you do that?”

“Pretty cool, huh? Kenny Roberts figured out how to hook up a pump to circulate that orange gunk.” She pulled me into the room, where Susanna Smith, dressed in a red sheath with a too-high slit on the side, draped a lei around my neck. “Aloha. Welcome, Mrs. Maller. Glad you could come.”

“Thanks, Susanna. This is wonderful. And look at you. You look gorgeous.”

Callie walked me over to Tom, who stood by the palm trees propped against a wall. “Can you believe your wife did this?”

“Pretty amazing, isn't it?” Tom said as he hugged me. “Get a load of the waterfall.”

I glanced around the room at barely recognizable teens, decked out in their finest, like tourists on a fancy Hawaiian vacation. A motorized waterfall stood in a corner, backed by a mural of blue-green sea.

“Don't look so shocked, Beth,” Callie said. “You know the kids always do a great job for the prom. You've seen them all.”

“But not like this. I can't imagine how you got that waterfall on your budget.”

“Easy. Mark Bolton's father works at the K-Mart Garden Center. He got permission to take down a display so we could borrow the waterfall. It's going back in the morning.”

Tom stepped between Callie and me. He put an arm around each of us. “Come on, ladies. Let me walk you to a table. Then I'll get us some drinks. What'll it be, Coke or ginger ale?”

He led us across the dance floor, to the far side of the room. A real pineapple, surrounded by paper ones, served as the table centerpiece. Tiny toy ukuleles scattered on the blue paper tablecloth.

“See,” Callie said, “that's what you do when you run out of money and the supermarket won't even donate pineapples and the music department can't get ukuleles. You mix and match, real and fake. And somehow it all comes together.”

“Who did the hula dancers?” I asked. “They look so real.” I stared at a painted lady and touched her pasted-on grass skirt.

“Oh, Susanna Smith and Alison Thompson did those. They're talented kids.”

“They have a talented teacher,” I said as Tom handed us soft drinks.

“Here's to another prom,” he toasted, looking at Callie as her feet stamped a rhythm. “Great work, honey.”

“Go ahead, you two.” I said. “I know you want to dance. Don't let me stop you. You should be out there having fun with the kids.”

“I'd rather stay here and talk with you,” Tom answered. “I can dance with my wife any old time.” He squeezed Callie's shoulder. “But I don't get to see you that much anymore.”

“And you're not gonna have time with her now,” Callie said. “Looks like the word's out you're here, Beth.”

A parade of students marched toward our table. First Alison, in the black off-the-shoulder dress she had described so well. Alison introduced me to Eric, tall and handsome in a classic tuxedo. I told them they looked as if they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine. “See, Eric. I told you she's the nicest counselor.”

“And I love the decorations, Ali. The room looks great.”

“Thanks. I knew you'd like it. That's why I wanted to show you this morning.”

Susanna Smith came next. “Sorry I didn't get to talk to you much when you came in, Mrs. Maller. I was kinda busy. But now I can relax.”

“Well, you should,” I said. “You've done an amazing job. I especially love the hula dancers. Mrs. Harris said you worked on them.”

“Yeah. Ali and I did them together. It was fun. So anyhow, I've got to get back to Jason. I think he's ready to party. And when you see us on the dance floor, check out his tux.”

There it was again: the tuxedo. Danny in a tuxedo.
Don't cry
, I warned myself.
Not tonight. Not here.

Students came by in groups. Nervous girls with older guys. Juniors dating juniors. Mark Bolton with a girl who looked so young I imagined it was already past her bedtime.

“Go on, you two,” I said again to Callie and Tom. “You don't have to stay with me. Go have fun. I'll see you later.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “I'm gonna get Callie out there now. But only if you promise me a dance.”

“You're on. So go. Quit worrying about me.”

Callie and Tom hit the dance floor as the DJ played music so loud I had to cover my ears. Students crowded the space, bouncing around with arms in the air. They shouted the words to the song and moved with the freedom of youth. Screams and laughter. Lives filled with possibilities.

Bob and his wife danced in the center of the room, stepping in half time to the music. He waved me over as I walked toward Kenny Roberts.

“Glad you were able to stop by,” Bob yelled. “I know this must be especially hard for you, Beth.”

I greeted Bob's wife. “Is your husband here?” she asked.

“Joe couldn't make it. But I promised the kids I'd come.”

“It's nice that you did,” Bob said. “It means a lot to them. And don't they look great all dressed up?”

“Sure do.” I fixed on Bob's tie, black with a golden pineapple in the center. “Don't even try to guess,” he said. “It's not a Beatles song. But it's perfect for a luau, don't you think?”

Before I could answer, Kenny Roberts introduced me to his date, who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. I was saying hi to Kenny's Amazon gal when a tap on my shoulder made me jump. I turned and stared at Tina. Her hot pink dress looked glued to her body. “Hey, Mrs. M. How you doin’?”

“Fine,” I shouted.

“Where's your husband?”

I started to walk off.

“Hold it, Mrs. M. Why aren't you answering me?”

“You want to talk? Then make an appointment in the counseling center.”

“Come on, Mrs. M. I'm just being friendly. Let's dance.” She grabbed my arm. I pulled away. She followed me across the floor, toward Callie and Tom. “Come on. One dance. We'll get Fred and Jen up here. And Fred's brother. He's Jen's date.”

“No, Tina. I'm not in the mood for dancing.”

Tom came over to me then. “Okay, Beth. Here's our chance.” He put out his hand.

“Oh no,” Tina said. “Mrs. Maller can't dance with you. She's not in the mood.”

I took Tom's hand, and we moved away. “Wait, Mrs. M.,” Tina yelled. “I'm sorry Ms. Richardson isn't here. She'd be a great date for you.”

“Ignore her,” I told Tom. “Just dance.”