Family Interrupted (26 page)

“How do you know what I’m going to do?”

“Because I know my son.”

“You knew a high school kid, Mom. You don’t know me anymore. Just like with Kayla, you’re living on memories, and that sure doesn’t work for me.”

She was silent for a minute. “I get it, Ian. I do. Now what’s your address?”

The question would have almost been funny if it weren’t so sad. My mother had never been to my place since I’d moved out of hers.

#

CLAIRE

Jack knocked and walked in just as I hung up the phone. His eyes lit up when he saw me dressed and ready to go to the support group.

“Looking good, Claire.”

I’d made an effort with a red-ribbed jersey, black slacks, and a chunky black-and-silver necklace. Jack was used to seeing me in fun accessories because I enjoyed using them, mixing and matching, trying things out. It’s amazing how an eight-dollar bauble could finish off an outfit and garner compliments. Besides, I needed to wear my own armor for this event.

“Thanks. I guess Kayla would say I’m in my ‘girly-girl’ mood, but never mind that. Guess who called to ask me to babysit for the rest of the week?”

Jack’s brows hitched to his forehead; his mouth made a perfect circle. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Want some company?”

Now I was the one open-mouthed. “That would be fun, but you’re committed to this meeting tonight, and I have to be at Ian’s by six at the latest so I’ll aim for five-thirty....”

Now his brows lowered as he studied me. “Whoa! Wait a minute. Are you standing me up? After you promised?”

“But I’ll need some sleep. I can’t take a chance of being late.”

“So set your alarm clock.”

Sometimes his irises could transform from a merry blue to a thundercloud gray. I saw a storm rising and held up my hand.
Think, Claire, think
.

“All right,” I finally said. “Short-term pain for long-term gain. But if we’re late getting to Ian’s, I’ll blame you.”

“I’ll take my chances. Let’s go.”

At the last minute, I stuck a pad and a bunch of pencils in my purse. Always a comfort to have them close, like I was a kid with a security blanket. If I needed a distraction from the support group conversation? Voilà. I’d have one.

#

We found the conference room at Texas Children’s Hospital without much trouble, but I was so tense by the time we arrived, I moved like a mannequin. So much for fashion plate armor or womanly grace. I clutched my purse.

Jack had spoken with the facilitator on the phone, and I watched as they shook hands like old friends. Bill Thompson looked older than us, but I’d already learned that grief could age a person. He might have been older...or ten years younger. When Bill turned toward me, I looked into his face and saw only kindness.

My mouth started trembling, and I bit down on my bottom lip. Well, that didn’t take long...and geez, how I disliked public displays of private emotions.

“Claire, isn’t it?” he asked. “Hope you don’t mind wearing a name tag. We always wear them ’cause it makes it easier for first-timers.”

I pasted it on and glanced at the others. About eight or nine people, softly chatting, smiling at me now and then, each with special memories. I could barely handle my own pain, so how was I supposed to “support” them? Oh, boy, coming here was a big mistake.

Everyone pulled a chair away from the conference table to arrange more informally at the side of the room. Not exactly a circle, but we could see each other well, and there was more floor space. I made a silent bet that by the time the night was over, Jack would be pacing—and he’d know everyone’s name without needing a prompt. I remained at the table but turned my chair to face the group.

Bill introduced us. I nodded, said a quick hey y’all, and glanced at Jack.
The spotlight’s all yours, buddy.

“Hello. Like Bill said, I’m Jack Barnes and that’s my wife, Claire. This is our first time talking with other parents.” He paused. I could see him take a deep breath before he could go on. “We lost our daughter, Kayla, two years and one month ago. She was twelve years old, beautiful, full of life, full of joy. God knows, she was my joy.”

No one spoke, as though everyone waited for his permission. But Jack added more. “To tell the truth, I can’t believe it’s over two years. Sometimes, it feels like yesterday. And sometimes, it feels like a million years ago since she died.”

Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead; one dripped from his temple down the side of his face. He wanted this, I thought, but he’s suffering.

“We’ve all felt that way,” said Bill. “Time is elastic, like a rubber band, with all its stretching and compressing. It’s a relative thing.”

“The emotions always seem fresh...”

“And just when you think you’ve got them under control, then boom! You get hijacked by a memory.”

Others were joining the conversation. Not I.

“You know what I hate?” asked one woman. “When people say they understand. But they don’t.”

“They can’t.”

“And when they think you should be over it using
their
timetable. Especially after the first anniversary.”

My ears perked up. My chin perked up.

Bill noticed. “Does that bother you, too, Claire?”

I nodded and glanced at Jack. But I wasn’t putting our marriage front and center with a group of strangers, nice as they were. I kept quiet.

“Getting over it is just not possible,” a woman said. “The family has changed forever. For always.... So how can you completely recover?” Her name tag said Laura, and she walked over and patted my hand. “You’ll see though. In awhile, the good memories, the warm ones, will replace those intense, painful ones.”

Jack interrupted. “Right now, it’s not about ‘getting over’ it; it’s about ‘getting on’ with it. With daily life.”

“That’s true,” said Laura. “The days and weeks keep rolling around. Holidays, birthdays...You can’t stop the solar system.”

“Luke’s birthday is this Friday,” said one of the men. “He would have been sixteen, so we’re bringing him a set of car keys when we visit.” Luke’s dad put on a game face, but his eyes...oh, his eyes!

My palm started to itch.

“Great choice,” said Bill. “Every kid counts down the days to the car keys. Birthdays are tough.” Again, he looked my way.

“Every day is tough,” I managed.

“So, what did you do on Kayla’s last birthday?”

My throat closed; I waved him away. He turned to Jack.

“I-I went to work as usual. For lunch, though, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kayla’s favorite.”

“Favorite foods are a good idea,” said someone else. “We always go to Travis’s favorite restaurant or try one we think he would have liked. The important thing is the whole family’s there, talking about Travis and remembering him. It makes us feel like he’s somehow...closer.”

I could only imagine what the guy meant. Jack and I didn’t “celebrate” Kayla’s birthday together.

“Claire?” Bill sounded far away.

“Hmm?”

But it was Jack who walked over. “Claire! What are you doing?”

Startled, I jerked in my chair. And then I saw what he’d meant. I’d sketched Luke’s dad—with emphasis on his shadowed brown eyes—so sad, so sad. I pushed it toward the man. “For you.” Then I turned to Jack.

“So, you want to know what I did on Kayla’s birthday?” I asked, yanking a clean sheet of paper. With three bold strokes, I produced Kayla’s grave. A dervish of swirls showed the flowers I’d planted, then came the soccer ball. Of course.

I grabbed another sheet and, with lightning speed, drew a cartoon Claire sitting on a bench, a sandwich in her hand.

“Mine was a PBJ too.” I looked up at Jack. “You should’ve been there.”

“Well, bless my soul,” said Bill. “She doesn’t say much, but she sure packs a wallop when she draws.”

“I’m getting used to it,” Jack replied before turning away.

#

JACK

Personal man-woman stuff between Claire and me wasn’t meant for the group, at least not to my way of thinking. This wasn’t a marriage counseling session, nor did I want it to be. So I waited until we were back in the truck before spitting out what was gnawing at my insides.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your plans for Kayla’s birthday? Or are you giving up speaking in favor of pencil drawings?”

“Would you have come with me if I’d invited you?”

Answering a question with a question. When had she learned to play defense?

“Probably.”

“That’s bullshit, Jack. You would have made excuses and gone to work. You bail out on everything I do for Kayla. You didn’t even want Reverend Carroll to be with us for the first anniversary.”

She was right. “Who else does what we did, asking a minister to conduct another service a year later—and at the cemetery to boot? The answer is, nobody. But I went along with it, didn’t I? I did it for you.”

“Well, thank you very much,” she replied. “Want a pat on the back? There’s no law prohibiting what we did. And there are no rules we have to follow about remembering our daughter. Marking the anniversary just made sense to me,” she said more quietly. “I thought gathering the family together there would keep her closer to all of us.”

“Well, it didn’t work. You know what we should have done? Balloons! Like what the folks in the group suggested after seeing your drawing. We should have gone to the soccer field and let balloons go for her—with messages inside. Something fun and meaningful. Something Kayla.”

She was listening, her head cocked toward me, but she remained silent. Still, I was encouraged to push on.

“Our daughter is always with me, Claire. And I know she’s with you too. In our hearts. In our thoughts. Don’t you find it ironic—sadly ironic—how, in her absence, Kayla’s the one who remains close while everyone else has drifted apart?”

I watched her wipe her eyes from time to time, but I wasn’t going to be the comforter. My brain was filled with everything I’d heard that evening, with some hard truths I had to accept. I was having my own issues. I started the truck and made our way down the ramps of the garage. Once outside, I lowered the windows.

“Fresh air all right with you?”

“Perfect. Maybe it’ll clear my head.”

Hers wasn’t the only one that needed clearing, but for awhile, I concentrated on finding my way out of the unfamiliar medical center area and back to the interstate.

“The meeting was a lot tougher than I thought it would be,” I admitted.

“Really? I found comfort. In fact, I intend to be a regular now. I liked that the people weren’t preachy. I’m so glad you talked me into going.”

More irony. I guess I should be used to these roller-coaster days, where nothing went as planned. “What a switcheroo—you rushing back while I’m not sure I want to give it another shot.”

“Why not? The group really understands what we’ve been through. More than my mother and your mother do. More than my sister does. When I cried tonight, no one told me to get over it.”

“Don’t exaggerate about our families. No one says that.”

“Maybe not always with words, but with their expressions. I can read their nuances, so don’t tell me otherwise.”

“Fine. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. The group’s working for you, and that’s the whole point of the exercise.”

I guess I came here tonight looking for some ‘atta boys.’ But it didn’t turn out that way. No one I’d met tonight seemed to understand that however hard I’d tried to pull the family together, I’d failed. I’d lost everyone—not only Kayla. But then I wondered if maybe I hadn’t explained it well enough. Maybe I hadn’t
communicated
. Now, there’s a word that came up a lot.

“Did you say something?”

I shook my head. “Not important.” Her quizzical look fell on me just as I exited the freeway and headed toward our neighborhood.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk, I will,” she said, turning my way. “I was just thinking that we were the only couple there who...who weren’t a couple anymore. Who live apart.”

The sound of her drumming fingernails echoed in the vehicle, but before she could continue, I cut her off.

“That’s true. We have issues that these people don’t. These couples are focused only on their child and remembrances. Warm memories. Each couple is a team on the same wavelength. But you and I? Hell, we’re in two different worlds.” I could feel my stomach start its familiar burn. “Can you reach into the glove box and grab my antacids?”

By the time she managed to find the roll, I was pulling into our driveway. I let the motor idle as I popped a pill. “Jack?”

Her fingers curled around mine. By the dome light, I could see how compressed her mouth was, how tense she looked. “Different worlds?” she whispered. “If you think there’s no road back, then we might as well call it quits.”

No!
I reached across the wheel and turned the key to the off position with my left hand. Silence settled around us, except for the sound of cicadas in the grass.

“Never mind about Ian and the baby,” she said, “because this is about Claire and Jack Barnes. About how you and I fell apart in the face of every parent’s nightmare. In the end, our problems are not about Kayla. They’re about us.”

Her hands clutched mine now, their strength matching the passion in her voice, the passion of a valid argument. I recognized this wife of mine, this familiar version. Intelligent, caring, brave. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time.

“When did you get so smart again, Claire?” I sounded hoarse. My throat hurt forming the words.

“I don’t know what you mean, but...” She gestured widely with her arm toward the house then back to us. “Do you really want to walk away? Give up on us? Give up on making a life together?”

We’d need a new foundation for that life, but I was starting to believe I couldn’t pour the cement by myself.

“The truth is, Claire, that I’d rather continue at the motel than come home to...to what we’ve had recently. What kind of relationship is it, with you in the studio painting secret pictures and me at the office until after dark? That’s not how we used to be. That’s not a real marriage.”

“I agree,” she replied quickly. “But you heard what they said tonight. Our family isn’t what it used to be either, and if you think we’ll ever recover completely from losing Kayla, you’re deluding yourself. Nothing will ever be the same.”