Elephant in the Sky (8 page)

I didn't respond right away, trying to decide if I should listen to my husband or my gut. I knew I should go home to Nate. He needed me.

“Seriously, Ash. Nate will get it too. We all do. Just do what you have to do, and come home when you can.”

I began to feel Pete push me towards my acceptance of fate. Before I could respond, I felt a sharp pain on my thumb, and looked down to realize I'd subconsciously peeled away a hangnail using my pointer finger, causing my thumb to bleed. I was more stressed than I realized.

“Ashley? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here. Look, I'm going to try my best to make it home by bedtime. But I'm not convinced it will happen, unfortunately. We've got a long road in front of us.”

“Sounds like it. Don't worry about it, hon. We'll see you when we see you.”

I was appreciative of Pete's change in attitude and of his support of my working hours. It was a long cry from the guilt he'd recently shoved at me and I wondered what had changed.

At two o'clock in the morning, I unlocked our front door and fell onto the hall bench to take off my boots. My whole body ached, and I longed for sleep. All around me, our house was dark and silent.

Pausing in the kitchen for a glass of water, I noticed a new drawing that had been stuck to the fridge door with Nate's favourite magnet, a bright red replica of the Golden Gate Bridge. It had been a gift from my father after he'd returned from one of his trips to San Francisco. Nate was obsessed with it, and used the magnet whenever he was particularly proud of something he'd created and wanted to display proudly.

I peeled the artwork from the fridge, and took in the picture of an angry-looking elephant. It had sharp, pointed tusks and deep red eyes. Almost bloodshot, but more intense. The elephant had been coloured a shade of grey that was so dark it was almost black, and was snarling to show its mean-looking teeth. All around it, black clouds closed in on the scary looking creature, and a bolt of yellow lightning shot across the page. The picture was both aggressive and frightening.

I shuddered, wondering why Nate would draw such a disturbing picture. I hesitated before putting it back up on the fridge; I didn't want such an angry-looking elephant up on display in my house, but I knew Nate would be crushed if I took it down, given that he'd used his favourite magnet; it was an obvious signal that he was very proud of his drawing.

After filling my glass with water from the fridge, I crept up the stairs, pausing first to kiss Grace's sleeping cheek, and then to peek in on Nate. I was more than five hours too late, but still wanted to say good night, even if it was to already sleeping bodies. I paused a long time to watch Nate sleep. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

I took his little hand in mine, but he didn't react. He didn't even flinch. Taking it as a sign that he wouldn't wake up, I buried my head in his little chest, happy to be near him again. When he still didn't stir, I crawled in next to him, careful not to wake him or hurt his ankle. I listened to his heartbeat. Felt my head rise with the rhythm of his breath. He was so peaceful, and perfectly at ease.

With his eyes shut, I couldn't see the lurking demons that haunted the baby blues I had loved for a lifetime. I couldn't see any of the tell-tale signs of whatever it was that was suffocating my baby's soul. Everything was hidden by sleep. Guarded by closed lids.

Lying with my sleeping son, I felt I was also temporarily at peace. I liked that it was hidden, that I couldn't see what was truly going on. I
liked
that I couldn't see the foggy gaze that now trumped Nate's former bright, shining eyes.

And when my tears came moments later, I also liked that my son couldn't see his mother cry.

20

Nate

It's still dark. I lie in bed. I slowly turn my ankle in a circle. It feels way better but I still cannot walk on it by myself. I need crutches. Or someone to carry me. Mostly that is Dad. But sometimes Mom carries me too.

I miss my mommy. She did not come home last night. Dad said she was working. She always has a lot of work to do. Dad told me Mom would be home in the morning.

I wanted to know more about what Mom was doing last night at work. But I couldn't seem to find the words. Or make myself talk. I want to talk. But I can't. I don't know why.

Dad says Mom has a lot of work to do. I wonder if she misses me too. I want to ask her. I want to find her.

I sit up in bed. I feel all fuzzy in my head. Mom says that is called
groggy
. I wait a minute. It goes away.

Outside, I can hear rain. It's hitting hard against my window. I wonder if the bird I saw staring at me is getting wet. I wonder if he is still as sad as I am.

I edge my way to the side of my bed. I put both feet on the ground and test my ankle. That is how Dad told me to do it. It hurts a little bit. I think I can step on it. I think I can get to Mom's room without my crutches. I hate my crutches.

I walk slowly in the dark. I feel my way. I touch all of the walls. It helps me to get to Mom's room. It helps me walk with my sore ankle.

The door is shut. I open it.

The room is quiet. And dark. It makes me feel sad.

I walk in. I go to her side of the bed. I want her to hug me.

I can't see her. I need to see her.

I turn on the lamp beside her bed.

Mom is not there. But Dad sits straight up.

“Huh? What? What's going on?
Nate?
Hey … what's up, buddy? Why are you up so early? It's only a quarter after six.” Dad is squinting into the light. He is holding his hand up to his forehead. I think he is protecting his eyes. I wonder if his eyes hurt. Like mine do. The light is hurting my eyes.

I want to ask where Mommy is. She is not in the bed. She is gone.

I still can't find the words. I still cannot make myself talk. I do not know why. I feel like I can't breathe. Can't find the words. I think it is called suffocating. Whatever it is, it hurts.

Dad must be used to the light now. He takes his hand down from his forehead and reaches for me.

“Are you okay, buddy?”

I feel myself blink. No words come out.

“Do you want to come into bed with me?”

I do not. I want my mommy.

“Come here, bud. Mom had to go into work early. She had a seven o'clock meeting. But she'll be home tonight.”

I do not believe him. Because Mommy is always gone.

21

Ashley

I sank further into the soft leather of the town car back seat, and sipped at the complimentary water, wishing it was some sort of caffeine. My body was so tired that it ached all over, and I longed for sleep. I wished I could tell the driver to turn around and take me back to my bed.

I squinted to see through the windshield. We were speeding, and the rain was so heavy that the wipers couldn't keep up. Blurred lights streaked by at lightning speed.

It was far too dark to be en route to work.

My pulse quickened and I thought about asking the driver to slow down. I likely would have, except I was afraid I would be late for the seven o'clock meeting I couldn't miss.

I longed for a double espresso latte, but knew we didn't have time to stop. The impact of the late hour from my night before was making my brain feel completely foggy, and I needed to find caffeine quickly in order to have half a chance at making it through my meetings.

With five minutes to spare, I got to work and was walking to my office when I noticed Emily sitting at her desk.

“Emily? What are you
doing
here so early?” I asked her, searching for my keys in my oversized bag.

“I knew you had the numbers meeting this morning, and I suspected you were here far too late on the Campbell's creative. So I thought I'd join you in case there was anything you needed…”

“You're such a gem. Thank you, Em.” I managed to find my keys and let myself into my office. It was pitch dark and felt far too chilly.

Emily followed me into my office. She handed me a venti latte, perfectly made-to-order, with non-fat milk and one raw sugar.

“Oh Em! You're a lifesaver. How did you know this is exactly what I needed?”

“Because you never have time to stop and you always need a morning latte.”

I flashed Emily my biggest grin. She made every difficult part of my work life easier, and I'd walk over coal to keep her as my assistant.

“Andrew is waiting for you in the boardroom,” Emily informed me, referring to our chief financial officer. “He got here about ten minutes ago.”

I smiled at her again as I grabbed my files for the meeting.

“Here!” Emily said as I flew out the door. She raced towards me and handed me my favourite sketch pen, which I had at every meeting. She walked with me the rest of the way to the boardroom to fill me in on some changes to my meetings later that day.

Andrew was already seated at the table, nose deep in his BlackBerry.

“Andrew, thanks so much for rescheduling. And for coming in at this crazy hour.” I took a seat opposite to him and braced myself for an uncomfortable conversation. Andrew needed to speak to me about the creative hours that had been creeping upwards in recent weeks.

“Not a problem. I know how crazy busy this place can be.” Andrew grinned at me. As far as finance and creative people went, Andrew and I were at the top of the list in terms of getting along. “And I just got a BBM from Charlee. She'll be here any second.”

Just as Andrew finished his sentence, Charlee Browers, our head of accounts, flew through the door. She looked soggy from the rain.

“Sorry, guys!” she said, breathless. She wiped the drizzle from the shoulders of her fall coat. “I had a tough time getting a cab and, of course, forgot my umbrella.”

“Let's get started,” Andrew said, his stern side emerging. “I know you're under significant pressure to deliver creative, Ash. But the hours the creative team has been billing lately are crazy. And as Charlee can attest to, we're getting significant push-back from almost all of our clients.”

“It's true, I'm afraid,” Charlee jumped in. Her pretty face wore a sheepish grin. “My team has been fielding calls left, right, and centre from clients who are questioning the hours spent on creative development. We need to fix this, Ash. And soon.”

“You weren't at the senior management meeting yesterday. But this was a big part of our discussion, and Jack's worried we're pissing off clients.” Andrew explained. “With the economy the way it is right now, budgets are tight, and we have to be accountable for every hour billed.”

Hearing Andrew mention the agenda at the meeting I'd missed the day before caused guilt to creep up my neck. With the discussion revolving around creative hours, I should have been part of it.

“In my opinion, as you know, we need to revisit the whole billing model for creative,” I responded. “It's not effective. You can't always forecast how long it will take to come up with the creative that a client needs. You can't just say, ‘Be creative
now
' to a team and then start a stopwatch. It doesn't work that way.”

Andrew and Charlee nodded. They'd heard the argument before, and I knew they didn't disagree.

“Plus, the creative team is on the junior side right now. It takes longer. That's just the way it is. I want to hire more senior creatives but Jack hasn't approved the positions. If we had more experienced creative minds working on our clients' business, it wouldn't take as long.”

“Yes, but those experienced minds come with more expensive salaries …” Andrew responded, and we were caught once again in the same vicious circular argument we always were.

Further into the meeting, it became more obvious that I'd missed an extremely important discussion the day before. We needed to bring in Jack and figure out a way to change how our creative team billed for their hours.

“For now, let's just agree to bill clients for what they've signed off on, and we will eat the rest until we figure out the new estimation model. Does that work for you guys?” I asked. We all knew we couldn't risk pissing off our clients by billing them for hours that were out of scope.

Our meeting broke just before eight o'clock, and I left the boardroom to head to the meeting at Campbell's. Emily waited outside the boardroom with my coat, an umbrella, and a cab chit. I had just over thirty minutes to make it across town.

“James and the others are already in the lobby. I told them you'd meet them there,” Emily explained as I shrugged my arms into my coat. She walked with me to the elevator and punched the button for me.

When I reached the lobby, I was greeted by sleepy smiles that matched my own. I knew the team was suffering from lack of sleep as much as I was but, despite our tired brains, we managed to breeze through the creative presentation and get instant approval from the Campbell's marketing team. We were back at the office just before noon, and I headed to my working lunch brainstorm. Famished, I filled my plate with catered sandwiches and salads, hoping it would give me enough energy to keep my steam for the rest of my afternoon meetings.

By the time I got home, I practically fell through the door. I was exhausted from head to toe, and didn't know how I'd make it through dinner.

“Smells like pizza!” I said as I walked into the kitchen. It had arrived just before I did.

“Pepperoni and bacon,” Nate said, hobbling up to me and giving me a squeeze. Shocked, I returned his hug and looked questioningly at Pete over Nate's head. Pete shrugged his shoulders, and motioned he would explain later.
“What
happened
?” I whispered to Pete as we got out plates and napkins. “I haven't seen that smile on Nate in forever and a day. It's amazing!”

“Yes, it is. And I have no idea what happened,” Pete whispered back. “I picked him up from school today and he was like that. It's like he went back to being his old self. Mrs. Brock said he was quiet in the morning, but seemed to be in great spirits when I took him back to school after lunch.”

“Oh, thank God. I've been so worried!” Relief spread its wings, giving my exhausted body the bout of energy it needed. The tension I'd been carrying in my neck began to dissolve.

“How was he at lunch?”

Pete shrugged. “Kind of normal, I guess. He talked a bit more than he has in the past few days, but nothing like this.”

“Well, I'll take what we've got now!” I responded. Pete nodded in agreement as he finished setting the table, and we all sat down to dive into the hot pizza. Pete opened a bottle of wine, and I sipped it freely, taking in the sight of my happy family.

When we were all full of pizza, we watched
Spider-Man
at Nate's insistent request, and even Grace agreed to watch the movie again. I could tell she also noticed a difference in Nate, and was happy to have her brother back.

Together, we ploughed through a bucket of popcorn and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Somehow, I didn't even fall asleep.

When the movie ended and the kids bounced upstairs to put themselves to bed, I sat back on the couch and enjoyed the peace. I took in the moment. Relished in the joy. And felt blessed by bliss. My day at work had been both challenging and rewarding. Nate was clearly back. And my family was happy.

Life was good.