Johnny Angel (7 page)

“What's going to happen now?” Alice looked at her son curiously. She had been wondering about it all day, still unsure if what she had seen of him was real or a dream. It was pretty remarkable, and would have been impossible to explain to anyone. And she would never have tried. “How does this work? Are you going to be around all the time, or just kind of come and go?” The oddest thing was that they were speaking normally and she wondered if anyone would hear them if they wandered by. They were going to have to be careful about that, or people were going to think she was crazy, talking to herself, since they couldn't see him.

“I guess I just kind of come in and out, while I do my work. I want to spend some time with Becky too.” There was something sad in his eyes this time as he spoke to her. It had touched him when he saw how subdued Becky was that day. It brought home to him how many people had been affected when he left, but it was why he had come home again. There were too many loose ends, too much left undone. And he knew he had a lot to do now in a short time.

He got up off her bed then, and walked to the door of her room, and then stood there smiling at her.

“It feels good to be home, Mom.” Even if it was only for a little while. It felt good to both of them.

“It's wonderful to have you home, sweetheart. I've missed you so much.” Her words didn't begin to express all she felt.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “me too. I'm going to go downstairs now to see Dad.”

“Can he see you too?” She looked surprised by what he said. She didn't think Jim could see him too. And Johnny laughed at her.

“Of course not, Mom. Are you kidding? He'd freak out.”

“Yes, I think he would,” she laughed with him.

“I just want to make sure he's okay. And there's some stuff I want to look for in my room. What happened to my varsity jacket? You didn't give it away, did you?”

“Of course not. I let Bobby try it on. I was saving it for him. I told him he could have it one day, and his eyes lit up. He's got a lot of growing to do until then.” They exchanged a smile.

“Charlie might like to wear it in the meantime,” he said generously. He had worn it constantly, he'd been so proud of it.

“I don't think Dad thinks anyone should wear it but you. It's in your closet. Everything is still there.” She hadn't moved or changed or given away anything. With all his trophies and pennants and photographs and awards, the room was a shrine to him. She seldom went in anymore, although she had in the first few weeks, she just liked knowing it was there, like a part of him.

“Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, Mom.” It was just the way it had been only a few months before, when he used to come and say good night to her, leave to call Becky, and then go to his room.

“Good night, sweetheart.” She sat there quietly, thinking of him, and a few minutes later Charlotte strolled in. Her hair was wet, she had just put gel in it, and she looked at her mother with a quizzical air.

“Who were you talking to a minute ago? Was Dad up here?” They both knew Bobby was sound asleep. She had heard her mom saying something as she walked down the hall to her room, and she couldn't imagine who she was talking to.

“I was on the phone,” Alice said without batting an eye. “Dad's still downstairs. He probably fell asleep.”

“What else is new?” Charlie said with a disapproving air. “Peggy Dougal's dad used to be the same way … and he went to AA.”

“Peggy Dougal's dad wound up in jail for drunk driving,” Alice said defensively, “and he lost his job. He had to go to AA, the court sent him there. That's not the same thing.” She had suggested it to Jim several times since the accident years before, and he always brushed her off or barked at her. He saw no need to go to AA, and always said he just liked to enjoy a few beers. And Alice knew she couldn't push him into it unless he was ready to go. It was up to him. And nothing she could say to him would make him see what everyone else did.

“Maybe not the same as Peggy's dad, but have you ever tried talking to Dad at night, Mom? He can't even understand what you say.” And more often than not, he slurred his words.

“I know, baby.” Alice didn't know what to say to her. It was the first time Charlotte had implied that her father was a drunk. And Alice didn't have the heart to tell her she was wrong. She had always been honest with her, even now. And whether or not he needed AA, he needed to forgive himself for the accident first, and accept the fact that he had lost his son. But that didn't seem to be happening. He seemed to be drifting further and further away from all of them. The only child he had ever related to was gone, and the other two didn't seem to exist for him. Sometimes Alice wondered if he even knew they were there. He never talked to them, or acknowledged them. And yet, he had loved talking to Johnny for hours, about sports and games and scores. He had no one to talk to now, not even her. “It's late, sweetheart, you should get to bed. I'll go wake Dad in a while and bring him upstairs.”

“Doesn't it make you mad, Mom?” she asked with a sorrowful air, as her mother shook her head.

“No. Just sad sometimes.” Charlotte nodded, and walked slowly out of the room, and then stopped just as Johnny had, with her hand on the door.

“Are you okay, Mom? Are you feeling better now?”

“Much.” The transfusions had worked wonders for her, and the medication had quieted the pain. But better than that, she was smiling again. In the oddest of ways, and for no reason she could understand, Johnny had come home, and she had hope again.

Chapter 5

Alice kept busy
around the house for the next few days. She had plenty to do, and she had promised her doctor she would rest, which she did. Jim was dropping the kids off at school for her, and one of the other mothers was driving Bobby home. Charlotte knew her mom wasn't going to her basketball games that week, and said she understood. And Alice had all the time in the world to be at home, and talk to Johnny when he was there.

As he had said he would, he came and went, he wanted to see his friends, check out his old school. He had sat in on some of Charlotte's classes with her. He told their mother she was doing well, but was more interested in sports than her work, and he told his mother she really needed help in math. Other than that, he thought she seemed to be doing okay.

But Bobby was the one who worried him. He had visited him too, and he said he kept to himself, didn't seem to bond with anyone, and never joined in any of the games. Even in his special school, he was unusually withdrawn. He had been worse than ever, ever since Johnny died, and he had only gone back to school finally, just before Alice got sick.

“What are you going to do with him, Mom? I thought he'd be talking again by now.” It didn't look like there was much chance of it, particularly after five years. And it was obvious that Johnny's death had driven the boy even further into himself.

“He still could talk one day,” Alice said hopefully. “Maybe he'll want to say something to us enough to try.” For the moment, he seemed to be comfortable as he was.

“What does the doctor say?”

She sighed, thinking about it. It was like the old days again, when she could talk to him. God knew, she couldn't talk to Jim. And Charlotte was still too young. “The doctor said he doesn't respond to the therapists, and there's no point pushing him. The last time we tried, he only got more withdrawn. He just can't do it, I guess.” And sometimes she wondered what would happen to him when she was gone. He could learn to live a life on his own one day, she supposed, but his world was so limited, and always would be, if he didn't break through his walls. And for the time being, none of them had found the door, or the key.

“You ought to take him to Charlie's games. He used to love coming to mine,” Johnny said sensibly, as Alice pondered it and then nodded. It was actually a good idea.

“He used to embarrass her, but she's grown up a lot since then. She probably wouldn't mind as much now.”

“She'd better not,” Johnny growled at her, and he kept her company in the kitchen while she baked two apple pies.

“Why two?” he asked, breathing deeply of the delicious fumes, as his mother shooed him away from the oven door. He wanted to open it so he could smell more.

“I thought I'd take one over to the Adamses this afternoon. They've been so good to us. Pam dropped off a couple of dinners for Dad while I was in the hospital. And they've been terrific to us ever since you died.” The insanity of saying it to him suddenly made her stop and stare at him, and then they both laughed. “Do you realize how crazy this is? If anyone heard me talking to you like this, they'd probably lock me up.”

“Well, no one's here to hear you, and they can't see me, so I guess everything's okay,” he said, as she took a long drink of the supplement the doctor had prescribed for her. But ever since he had come back, she seemed to be feeling pretty good. Better than she had in years, in fact, and mostly thanks to him. It was amazing what the lightening of the yoke of grief did for her. She felt as though she had dropped twenty years, and looked it. She was only sorry the others couldn't see and talk to him too.

“I'd take the pies over to the Adamses for you if I could, Mom,” he said casually, leaning against the refrigerator and watching her with a grin. “I don't think I can do stuff like that.”

“This is miraculous enough, sweetheart,” she said, still looking more than a little awed by what had happened to them. “Why do you think they sent you back?”

“I'm not sure. I think to finish things up. Supposedly, they do that sometimes when you go too fast, and leave a lot of unfinished stuff.”

“Like what?”

“You … Dad … Bobby … Charlie … Becky … Maybe they thought none of you was doing so great, and needed some help.”

“I guess we did,” his mother said quietly, grateful for these extra days with him. They were an extraordinary gift, and she was loving every minute of it. “How long do you think they'll let you stay?”

“As long as it takes,” he said cryptically.

“To do what?” She still didn't understand what his “work” was going to be, but neither did he.

“I don't know. Maybe I'm supposed to figure it out for myself. They didn't tell me much.” She didn't dare ask him who “they” were. He had no halo, no wings, didn't fly, didn't come through walls and doors. He was just walking around as he always had, looking just the way he did four months before, hanging around in her kitchen, and sitting on the end of her bed. He looked and felt and smelled and sounded the same, and whenever she touched his hand, or kissed his cheek, or put her arms around him, he was warm. He was the greatest gift she'd ever had, since he'd returned, and she was unspeakably grateful to have him there with her, for however long it was.

He was sitting in the living room, watching TV, when she left to pick Bobby up, and she asked him if he wanted to ride with her. He hesitated for a minute, and then decided that he would. And as they drove along, they talked about a number of things, the friends he'd had in school, the scholarship that had meant so much to him, the favorite games he'd played, the memories he had as a child that were so precious to all of them now. He made her laugh several times as they drove along, reminding her of pranks he'd played, and things she'd done. And she was still smiling when Bobby got into the car. And as soon as he did, Johnny disappeared.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?” Bobby nodded sometimes, but he didn't this afternoon. He just looked at her, and then glanced into the backseat, as though he sensed something there. And then he said nothing at all, and looked out the window as they drove away.

She gave him cookies and milk when they got home, and he quietly went upstairs, when the phone rang and she answered it. It was Pam. She was still at work, but wanted to share some gossip with her. Alice said she'd baked an apple pie for her, and Pam sounded pleased. Alice promised to drop by with it after Pam got home from work.

And when she did, she took Bobby with her. The Adams kids were going wild all over the kitchen and the living room, and Becky was cooking dinner for them with her long blond hair piled high on her head. She looked a little flustered as the hamburgers started to burn, but Alice thought she was getting more beautiful every day. It made it doubly sad that Johnny was gone. They would have been so happy when they got married one day. And Becky hadn't looked at anyone else in the four months he'd been gone. At eighteen, her life seemed as isolated as her mom's. Becky felt widowed too, in her own way, and all she did was go to work, and come home to help take care of the kids. She hadn't even gone to a movie since Johnny had died. And Alice told her she should make an effort to get out sometime.

“I can't even get her to leave the house, except to go to work,” Pam complained. She was worried about her. But she had been doing the same thing herself for the last two years since Mike had died.

“You both need to go out more. Why don't you let Charlie and me baby-sit for you sometime?” Alice wasn't entirely sure Charlotte would be pleased with the idea, but it would be nice to do something for them for a change.

The two women chatted for a while, and Bobby sat quietly watching the other kids. He didn't join in, and they didn't ask him to, although several of them were close to his age. But it was as though he weren't there. He was completely removed and withdrawn, and he seemed almost invisible to them as he watched everything they did. And as Alice turned at the sound of a particularly large crash from the living room, she saw Johnny following Becky up the stairs. Alice stared at him, startled to see him there, and when Becky came back to check on dinner again a few minutes later, he stood next to her at the stove. She was entirely unaware of him, as Alice struggled to listen to what Pam had just said. It was something about a man she'd met at work. But for the life of her, Alice couldn't remember what she'd said to her. Her eyes were riveted on Johnny, watching Becky butter the corn on the cob she'd made, and he turned to face his mother with a wave and a grin, as she smiled at him.