Johnny Angel (11 page)

“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly, and the small child nodded, as Johnny never took his eyes from him.

“Go on,” Johnny said, as Bobby looked from his brother to his mother.

“Hi, Mom,” Bobby whispered, as a sob broke from her, and she pulled him to her with such force that it left them both breathless, and then she pulled slowly away from him and looked down at him, laughing and crying, as she reached a hand out to Johnny and pulled him toward them.

“Hi, Bobby” was all she could answer at first. “I love you so much…. How long have you been talking?”

“Since Johnny came. He said I had to. We can't play any good games if I don't talk to him.” Johnny was smiling at both of them, as Alice tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but they wouldn't stop coming.

“Will you talk to all of us now?” She couldn't help wondering for how long he had been capable of it, or thinking how much it would mean to his father. But as she asked him, Bobby shook his head and looked at Johnny.

“Maybe soon, Mom,” Johnny said quietly. “We need to do this one step at a time. Bobby wants to get used to talking to you first. But he's doing real well,” he said, tousling Bobby's hair, “he said a real good word to me this morning.” Bobby giggled at the memory of the word he had dared to say to his older brother. It was one he knew he wouldn't be allowed to use, even once he started talking, no matter how grateful they were to hear his voice.

“Can't we tell Daddy?” Alice felt terrible not sharing the news with him. She knew it would make all the difference in the world to him.

“Not yet,” Johnny answered for him. “But soon, I promise.” She didn't want to push either of them, but she was sorry not to tell Jim what had happened. But she somehow felt that it was best to respect Johnny's wishes.

They sat on the floor together for a long time, talking softly so no one would hear, and after a while, Charlotte knocked on the door and stuck her head in.

“Mom, your cookies are burning,” she said matter-of-factly, seeing neither her older brother, nor the look of joy in her mother's eyes. All she saw was her mom on the floor, talking to Bobby, with his toys all around them. “I took them out of the oven,” she said, and closed the door again, as Alice stood up and kissed both her sons before she left them. She went downstairs with a lighter step than she'd had in years, and all she could think of was how Jim would feel once he knew that Bobby was talking.

Her eyes went to Bobby's often at dinner that night, and he smiled as he looked at her. They had a huge secret to share, two of them, one that he could talk, and the other that Johnny had come back to them. It formed a bond between Alice and her youngest child that they had never shared before, and he stayed in the kitchen with her for a long time that night, after they finished dinner. He said nothing to her, but she could feel his heart tucked into her own, as he helped her clean up, and when they finished, she stopped and pulled her to him. “I love you, Bobby,” she whispered to him. His arms held her tightly around her waist, and when she stepped back from him, he smiled at her, and went silently upstairs with Johnny.

Chapter 8

Thanksgiving was painful
for them that year, particularly for Jim and Charlotte. Alice felt sorry for both of them, and wished that she could have shared Johnny's presence with them. He hung around between Bobby and her part of the time, and made yummy faces as he stood over the turkey, while she was carving it in the kitchen. Jim had had enough to drink by then that she didn't trust him with it, or the carving knife. She didn't want him to destroy the bird, or hurt himself.

“Boy, that smells great, Mom. It's bigger than last year,” Johnny said with admiration.

“I couldn't find one smaller than this,” she said out loud to him, wrestling with one of the drumsticks, and then licking her fingers while Johnny sniffed at the gravy. “Be careful you don't spill that.”

“Spill what?” Charlotte asked, looking blank, as she walked into the kitchen to help her.

“The gravy. Not you, I was talking to …” She was distracted and forgot that Charlotte couldn't see Johnny standing next to her.

“Who were you talking to, Mom?” Charlotte asked, looking worried.

“No one, sweetheart. I was just thinking out loud.” Charlotte looked crestfallen as she walked out, carrying a platter of sweet potatoes with marshmallows on them. Her mother was clearly out of her mind with grief, and her father was already drunk halfway through the afternoon. Johnny was gone, and she wished they didn't have to celebrate at all, as she went back to the kitchen to get the cranberry jelly. Her mother had her back to her when she walked into the room, and had just said clearly “Stop that!” Charlotte thought she was definitely crazy. “If you touch one more thing, I'm going to kill you!” Alice said, sounding good-humored.

“I thought you wanted this stuff put on the table,” Charlotte said as her mother turned around to look at her, and then blushed.

“Yes, I did. I'm sorry…. I get a little frazzled with all this cooking.”

“Mom, you've got to stop talking to yourself like that,” Charlie said, looking nervous. She'd been doing it for two months. Charlotte knew why, it was because of Johnny's death of course, but it just didn't seem normal or healthy. Even her father had noticed, but he never said anything to Alice about it. He had told Charlotte she always talked to herself now when she was alone in their bedroom. He had walked in several times when she was having a full-blown conversation with herself. “Mom, are you okay?” Charlotte asked her, as she juggled the cranberry jelly in one hand and the string beans in the other.

“I'm fine, dear. Honest. I'll be out in two minutes with the turkey.”

“Okay, now go play while we eat,” she told Johnny in a whisper before leaving him in the kitchen, and hurrying into the other room with the turkey.

“I can't miss Thanksgiving, Mom.” He looked hurt at the suggestion.

“You'll make Bobby act funny … and I'll wind up saying something I shouldn't,” she whispered to him.

“I'll be good. I promise,” he said solemnly, and then followed her in as she carried the stuffing and the carved turkey. Thanksgiving had always been his favorite holiday next to Christmas.

Alice served everyone, and Jim looked vague as he dug into his dinner. Charlotte said nothing, and Bobby smiled when he glanced up at Johnny. But Johnny put a careful finger to his lips and warned him not to look at him, which made Alice giggle.

“Whass so funny?” Jim asked, slurring his words. And Alice looked at him sadly. It was painful to see him that way, not only for her, but for the children. Bobby glanced at him with disappointment, and shook his head.

“Why did Dad have to get so drunk today?” Johnny asked her when she went back to the kitchen to carve more turkey for them.

“Why do you think?” she said with a sigh, putting more dressing on the platter. “Because we all miss you. And all the usual old stuff. It's a shame he can't see you too. I think it would help him so much. Why do you suppose they wouldn't let him see you, like me and Bobby?”

“Because he wouldn't understand it, Mom,” Johnny said without hesitation.

“I'm not sure I do either. But I sure do love it,” she said, stopping to kiss him, and then she walked back into the other room with seconds for Jim and the children.

“Talking to yourself again?” Jim asked her with a look of concern. Even after drinking too much, he could hear her talking to herself.

“Sorry,” she said, as Charlotte looked up at her miserably. She hated it when her father got drunk. And now her mother was acting crazy too. Thanksgiving without Johnny was agonizing. It seemed unfair to Alice that Charlotte couldn't see him too. But maybe she wouldn't have understood it either. Whatever the reason, she couldn't see him. He stood right next to her for part of the meal, so close that she should have been able to sense something, but she didn't. “The Adamses said they'd come by after they eat their turkey,” Alice said to everyone at the table.

“Why do they have to come here?” Jim didn't sound pleased about it. He just wanted to finish eating, and sit in front of the TV, drinking beer, and watching football.

“They're our friends, Jim,” Alice chided.

“So what? Johnny's gone, and Becky's not his girlfriend.” Alice said nothing, and they all went on eating, and a few minutes later, Charlotte helped her clear the table. It was a relief to end the meal and move around the kitchen.

“I hate him,” Charlotte said, as she set the platters down on the counter. Bobby came in with his plate, and his mother took it from him. Jim had already abandoned the table, without waiting for the pumpkin pie or the whipped cream she had made for it.

“He can't help it, Charlie. You know that,” her mother said gently.

“Yes, he can. He doesn't have to get drunk all the time. It's disgusting.” Charlotte looked heartbroken, and it pained Alice to see it.

“He misses Johnny,” Alice said, knowing full well that he also felt guilty about Bobby, and had since he'd stopped speaking.

“I miss him too,” Charlotte said practically, “so do you. You're not falling-down drunk,” she said with a grim expression. “All you do is talk to yourself. That's pretty weird, but at least it's not as sick as what he does.”

“Don't say things like that about your father,” Alice said firmly.

“Why not? It's true. Dad's a drunk, Johnny's gone. Bobby is never going to talk again.” Her eyes filled with tears as she listed the miseries that afflicted all of them, but only some of them were true. Bobby had begun to talk again, and Johnny was back, for a while at least. And she was talking to him, not herself.

“Maybe Dad will stop drinking one of these days,” Alice said with a sigh, as she cut wedges of the pumpkin pie, but no one was hungry. “People do, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, unconvinced, helping herself to a dollop of whipped cream with her finger. “I'll believe that when I see it.”

“He's been better lately,” Alice said hopefully, but Charlotte didn't look as though she agreed with her.

“Not today. He could have at least stayed sober on Thanksgiving.”

The three of them picked at their pumpkin pie, and Johnny sat at the table in his father's empty seat between Charlotte and Bobby. And as Alice started clearing the table, the doorbell rang, it was Becky and her mother and brothers and sisters. They made a noisy entrance, as Johnny sat, staring at Becky. She looked beautiful in a dark blue velvet dress, with her shining gold hair hanging down her back just the way he had loved it. Alice felt a pang of sorrow for him as she saw the way he watched her.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Pam said as she handed Alice an apple pie she and Becky had made that morning. “How was dinner?”

“It was all right,” Alice said quietly, as Charlotte took Becky and the girls up to her room, and Johnny silently followed. Alice then suggested that Bobby take the boys up to his room, and Pam followed her into the kitchen. She could see easily that it had been a hard Thanksgiving for them, and she remembered all too well how hard it had been for them the first year after Mike died. All of the holidays had been agony for them, and it was obvious that this one was no different. At their house, Becky had cried on and off all through dinner, and talked about how much she missed Johnny.

“Where's Jim?” Pam asked, as Alice nodded toward the living room. They could hear the TV blaring.

“He's watching football. He's not in such great shape either. I guess no one is.” Even though she and Bobby could see Johnny, it was painful knowing how much the others felt his absence.

“The holidays are tough the first year. Christmas will be even worse. Start bracing yourself for it.” Alice nodded in answer, and continued rinsing the dishes.

“How's your life?” Alice asked. She had put a pot of coffee on, and Pam poured them each a cup when it was ready.

“Interesting,” she confessed with a sheepish grin. “I'm not sure what's happening, or what it means, but I think I like it. I'm still seeing Gavin, and I really like him.”

“I'm happy for you,” Alice said, sitting down at the kitchen table with her finally, once all the dishes were in the dishwasher. It was nice for both of them, having someone to talk to.

“He's great with the kids, and he's nice to me. It's been so long since I've gone anywhere, or done anything. He takes me out to dinner every Saturday. It probably doesn't mean anything, but he's good company, and it's nice to have an excuse to get dressed and have my hair done. It's fun to be more than just a mom for a change, and a chauffeur. He even plays baseball with the boys on Sunday mornings.” What Pam said made Alice wonder if she let him stay over, and Pam laughed as she saw her friend's expression. “He stays with a friend here.” They both laughed then, and chatted for a long time at the kitchen table, and then they finally went upstairs to check on their children.

The Adams girls were sitting on Charlotte's bed and the floor of her room, talking about boys and school, and Becky said something about Buzz to Charlotte. And as they chatted, Johnny was sitting at Charlotte's desk and smiling. He couldn't take his eyes off Becky. And from the doorway, Alice smiled at him. During his entire lifetime, she couldn't have paid him to sit in on a session like this one. But it was different now, and he loved being close to Becky. It was as though he wanted to drink her in, and just enjoy watching her. It seemed like he was storing one more memory to take with him.

Pam and Alice went to Bobby's room then, and Peter and Mark were tossing around one of his baseballs. Alice suggested they go outside and toss the ball around and shoot some baskets, and when they got up to go, Bobby silently followed. He liked being with them. And then the two women went downstairs again. They passed Jim sound asleep in front of the TV, with four empty beer bottles next to him. Green Bay had just scored a touchdown, and he was snoring loudly.

“How is he?” Pam whispered, as they took refuge in the kitchen, and Alice glanced out the window at their children. And this time she saw that Johnny was with them. Bobby was quietly standing next to him, as the Adams boys started shooting baskets.