Eighty and Out (26 page)

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

Silence lingered. I could tell this would take more work.

“You’re not saying much,” I noted.

He sat for another minute, unresponsive. Then he blurted out, “Oh... I was just thinking.” But he still didn’t elaborate.

“About what?” I asked.

“Sally’s mom.”

He left me hanging again. I decided to wait for him to go on, only if he chose to.

Luckily, he did. “Sally’s mom came back from the hospital yesterday, just in time for her birthday party.”

I hadn’t known she was ill. “What was wrong with her?”

We pulled up to a stoplight and Tyler looked directly at me. Returning his gaze, I listened as he said, “I don’t know... But she came back.”

His face was filled with a sadness I hadn’t seen in a long time. It broke my heart into a thousand pieces. I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to upset him more than he already was and ruin his party.

“Sometimes people get better,” I replied. “Thank God for that.”

Tyler nodded while holding back tears, determined not to let them spill. Then we walked to the front door and I rang the buzzer. Squeezing his hand in mine I whispered, “Try to have a good time, okay.”

He forced a smile. Then the door opened to a bunch of screaming kids and he went in and waved goodbye.

Just when I thought he was doing so well, he revealed a new level of his pain. And there was nothing I could do to take it away.

Saddened, I got back in the car and began driving to the cemetery. On the way there my mood grew darker. I was glad Sally’s mom had recovered, from whatever her ailment had been. But at the same time I was upset that Justin hadn’t made it. Even being under the care of Dr. Friedman—one of the best cancer doctors in the country—wasn’t enough to save him.

After pulling in to the parking lot, I got out and looked around, and was disappointed to find I was the only visitor. I noticed the original groundskeeper whistling as he worked nearby, the sole moving object in a landscape of gray sky and dirty snow. I ignored him and walked through the frigid air toward Justin’s grave.

The closer I got, the more I filled with overwhelming grief. Maybe it was Tyler’s reminder that we were still broken; that we only pretended to be fixed. Maybe it was the stress of why I was here. I didn’t know.

Once I reached my husband’s grave, I sighed. The ground was bare; no yellow flowers. Unsure what to do next, I decided I might as well hang around and look for clues.

I walked the rows, reading the headstones again. Same people as last time. The hilarity of the thought caused me to laugh out loud. At the same moment, the groundskeeper passed by. Once he saw me giggling by myself, he scurried away, muttering something under his breath in Spanish.

I headed back to Justin’s grave. I stood there, staring down. “I hope you’re not hiding something from me,” I whispered. “Remember... no secrets.”

In my quest to find the flower bearer, I’d forgotten to bring my own pink rose. All of a sudden the area looked desolate. The only items on the ground were a few pebbles, lying next to a golf-ball sized rock. On impulse I kicked it. With unexpected force, it flew through the air and ricocheted off a nearby headstone before smacking back on the ground.

The sound snapped me out of my mood, bringing clarity. I should go. I was destroying the place. Then I glanced back one more time to say goodbye to Justin.

*****

After picking up Tyler from Sally’s birthday party, I noticed his sadness appeared to have lifted. He told me about all the fun games they’d played and what kind of cake they ate and about Sally’s presents. I was glad one of us was in a better mood.

Once home I plopped down in a kitchen chair to look at yesterday’s mail. There were catalogs for stores I couldn’t afford to shop at, credit offers for cards I didn’t need, and one last piece of mail that caught my attention. An envelope from The American Cancer Society.

I ripped the letter open to read its contents. As I did, I felt my stomach drop. They were inviting me to take part in one of their annual programs, something called Daffodil Days.

[End of Sample]

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