Meant to Be (20 page)

“It's not just for the prom,” she says. “It was also a congratulations gift for your column going into syndication. I thought since you have to keep that a secret, you could see this necklace and be reminded of it.” Then she holds out the box for me to take.

I open it up to see a delicate gold necklace with three diamonds hanging in a vertical line. At least I think they are diamonds. “Is this real?” I ask with wide eyes.

Mom laughs. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. It's called an eternity necklace. One stone is for the past, one is for the present, and one is for the future. I thought it was a nice idea.”

“It's beautiful.” I carefully remove the necklace from the box. “I totally love it!” Then I sit on the couch beside Mom and wait as she clasps it around my neck.

“You're beautiful too, Kim.” Then she kisses me on the cheek. “No one could ask for a better daughter.”

Okay, this makes me cry, and I'm relieved that we did this the night BEFORE the prom since the idea of going to prom with puffy, red eyes isn't too appealing. We all hug and I thank them for it. “It's perfect,” I tell them. “I hadn't really decided which necklace to wear, but this is perfect!”

Then we talk about the plans for tomorrow night, and I assure my parents that Matthew and I have planned in enough time to spend about twenty minutes with both sets of parents to ensure there are plenty of Kodak moments recorded.

“But you still don't know where he's taking you for
dinner yet?” asks Mom.

“No, but he promised me that I'd like it. And knowing Matthew its probably something unique.”

Mom smiles. “You're going to have so much fun, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “I think so.”

And I really do think so as I carefully hang up my dress then rewrap my shoes in tissue and replace my necklace back in its velvet box. And it makes it feel even better knowing that Mom's kind of rebounding. I could tell by the sparkle in her eyes and the tone of her voice that she's really feeling better. And I'm thinking, okay, maybe God really is healing her. Maybe we just needed to get this close to the edge just to realize how much we love her and need her.

I can hardly believe that she wants to go to the beauty salon with me tomorrow. But that's a really good sign too. And just seeing the old photos of Aunt Shannon and knowing that she lives in Beverly Hills makes me suspect that she's pretty high fashion, and I can understand how Mom doesn't want to be the older frumpy sister when Shannon gets here on Monday.

The only thing that keeps me from feeling totally happy tonight is knowing that, just down the street, my best friend is feeling perfectly miserable. I wish there was something I could do to cheer Nat up. I wonder if the counselor read my anonymous tip and made an appointment with her yet. But no way am I asking Nat about that. She'd probably chew my head off or maybe
just hang up on me again or plant a homemade bomb in my bathroom.

Even so, I decide to e-mail her. Not that she's checking e-mail or ever responds these days, but I figure it's worth a shot.

Well, even though its nearly eleven I'm still wide awake, probably in anticipation of tomorrow. So I e-mail Matthew and tell him my parents gave me a “gift” for the prom, but that's all—he'll have to wait to see it for himself. And knowing how much he likes my diamond stud earrings, I'm sure he'll think the necklace is pretty cool too.

Tomorrow is going to be the best. And since I'm still wide awake and don't have homework to do, I decide to get ahead on the Just Jamie letters. Especially since Aunt Shannon and Maya will be here on Monday I'm sure I'll be wanting lots of free time to hang with them and hear all about this “famous” dude ex-husband and what their lives are like down in sunny Southern California.

The absolute best day of my life turned inside out last night. Nearly twenty-four hours later, I'm still trying to understand the whole thing. As tempting as it is to tell this whole thing backwards, I will try to record it chronologically—for the sake of my diary and my memories.

Yesterday, Mom and I went to Hyacinth, the surprisingly upscale salon where we both had appointments. There we were coifed and pampered. They even served us cucumber-flavored iced water, which was actually refreshing. Feeling very relaxed and lovely, I drove us home around one, and we both took a nap. Mom's nap lasted most of the afternoon, but I was up after less than an hour. I tried to make myself useful around the house since no hospice people come during the weekend. But at around five, I decided it was time to
start getting ready for the Big Night.

Matthew showed up in the coolest old car, a mint condition Bentley from the fifties, that his grandma let him borrow (who knew he had a rich grandma?), and photos were taken, videos recorded, and both my parents thought Matthews vintage tuxedo was strikingly handsome. And of course, I totally agreed. Then we went over to Matthew s house and posed as his mom took pictures and made a big deal over my dress.

“Prada shoes?” she exclaimed, and I told her what a bargain they were, and she commended me for my thriftiness. And then we were off to our dinner reservations, which happened to be at a new Japanese restaurant that just got rave reviews in the newspaper. (Matthew made reservations two weeks ago.)

Then we went to the prom, and it was more fun than I'd even imagined. Probably the most romantic evening of my life. Even so, I had no intention of heading off to the hotel like so many other couples were doing—like they think it was their wedding night, and they were going off to consummate their vows! Talk about stupid!

Anyway, Matthew knew that I didn't want to stay out too late, so he politely had me home just before midnight. As usual, we kissed at the door, and I told him it was the best night of my life and then said good night. Still feeling the lightheaded aftereffects of the prom, I sort of danced my way into the house and then immediately felt that something was wrong.

“Kim?”

“Who is it?” I asked then saw Natalie emerging from my kitchen. Her eyes were swollen and red, and I could tell she'd been crying.

“Do you need to talk?” I asked, certain that she'd finally come to her senses and decided to get help. Hther that or she'd heard that Ben and Torrey were back together and had indeed made an appearance at the prom.

“It's your mom.”

Now I felt confused, like someone had pulled a fast one on me. “What?”

“Your mom,” she said in a very sober voice. Then she came over and put her arms around me. “She's gone.”

“Gone?” I pulled away and glanced around the kitchen like I expected Mom to pop around the comer and offer us cocoa.

“She had a seizure.” Nat helped me to sit down in a chair. “I heard the siren and looked out to see the ambulance pulling into your driveway. It was a little before eleven.”

“No…”

“I came running over here to see what was wrong, and within minutes the paramedics were putting her into the ambulance. Your dad asked me to wait here for you since he knew you'd be home soon, and he wanted to follow the ambulance to—”

“She's at the hospital.” I stood up. “I have to go.”

“Your dad just called, Kim. He thought you might be home now.”

“I am home.”

“He wanted to—” she choked on the words. “He wanted you to know that she died, Kim.”

“No!”

“I'm so sorry—”

I held up my cell phone. Matthew had just handed it back to me. It was still on. “Dad would've called me! I have my phone right here. See!”

“I'm sorry—”

“No! I'm getting my keys. I'm going to the hospital. She can't be dead, Nat. She just got her hair done. She's feeling better. Her sister's coming on Monday.” I ran for my purse and dug for my keys.

“Here,” Nat told me, taking my keys. “We'll both go to the hospital, but I'm driving.”

I felt like I could barely breathe as Nat drove us to the hospital. My fingers were digging into the seat, and my ears were buzzing and ringing, and I felt like my chest was about to explode. Nat pulled up to the ER entrance, and I leaped out, running straight to the reception desk. “My mom is here!” I gasped. “Patricia Peterson!”

The woman was looking at her computer screen, taking forever, and I kept yelling at her, “Patricia Peterson! She just got here!”

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Dad's tear-streaked face looking at me with the saddest
eyes I have ever seen. “We lost her, Kimmy.”

I fell into his arms and just sobbed. I don't know how long we stood there, clinging to each other and crying. Finally I asked him if I could see her—like I needed to be convinced that she was really gone—«and he led me back through ER and then opened the door to a dimly lit room.

My knees got weak as I looked at the bed. It was completely draped with a pale blue sheet. Dad slowly walked to the head of the bed and gently folded back the sheet so I could see her face, and I just stared in disbelief at the pale, motionless face.

“Mom,” I formed the word, but no sound came out. Then I went closer and reached out to touch her cheek. Her skin was cool but smooth, almost wrinkle free, and for the first time in months she looked relaxed, free from pain. Tears were still sliding down my face as I reached to touch her hair. It still looked pretty, neatly cut and curled. “Oh, Mom,” I gasped as reality slugged me in the gut. “I wish I'd been here,” I sobbed. “I wish I could've said good-bye.”

Dad put a hand on my shoulder again. “You did say good-bye, Kim. Right before you left for the prom. You kissed Mom and told her good-bye.”

I took in a deep breath but didn't tell him that wasn't what I meant. That I wished I'd been here, by her side during her last moments. I would gladly have given up the prom, Matthew, everything just for that. But I didn't say anything to Dad. I didn't think I could form the words.

We found Nat in the waiting area, and she agreed to drive my Jeep home so I could ride with Dad. I didn't see how he could focus on driving, but somehow he managed. Maybe he was on automatic pilot, or maybe it was just that he'd made this trip (back and forth to the hospital) so many times before.

“I never really got to say good-bye to her either,” he said after we were almost home.

“What do you mean?”

“She went to bed after you and Matthew left, said she just wanted to take a nap. But then she was sleeping so soundly, I couldn't bear to wake her. I was staying up, waiting for you to get home, and something made me decide to go check on her. I could tell something was wrong. She was awake and breathing but unable to talk. I called 9-1-1 and the next thing I knew, I was following the ambulance to the hospital. I kept telling myself it was going to be like last time. They would find what was wrong, fix it, and we'd come back home in the morning. But she was unconscious when I got to the hospital. She was hooked up to a respirator and all the machines, and they were working on her. But after about twenty minutes, she went into complete cardiac arrest, and they couldn't bring her back, Kim. She just died. I never did get to say good-bye.”

I reached over and put my hand on his arm as he pulled into our driveway. “Mom knows how much you love her. She knows that we both love her. Maybe saying good-bye isn't such a big deal.”

Then Nat pulled up, and Dad and I got out and stood in the driveway just looking at our house. And I know we were both thinking the same thing—its going to be so empty without her.

And it is. I can't explain what it feels like exactly As I walked around our house today, I imagined a house that had once been warmed by a big cheerful crackling fire— but then the fire was snuffed out, and the grate was cold and black. That's how our house feels now.

Neither of us went to church today Maybe that was a mistake, but its like we just didn't have it in us. We both just rambled around. Dad made phone calls, arrangements, and whatnot. I mostly felt lost and lonely. Even when Matthew called, it took me a minute to get my bearings. And then I told him, falling apart even before the words came out.

“I'm so sorry, Kim. Do you want me to come over?”

But I told him that it wasn't a good time and that I'd call him later. But I haven't. Not yet. Nat called too. She offered to come over, but again I declined. I mean, what good would it do?

Okay, I know that Mom's with God. I don't even have any doubts about that. But there is this big, painful hole, about the size of a football field, right in the center of my chest, and it hurts so bad that I don't think it will ever go away. And so, even though I know Mom is with God, I can't help but be mad at Him that she's not here with me. I mean, who needed her more? Me or God?

So instead of writing to Jamie for answers tonight, I am writing to God.