The Feathered Bone (35 page)

“Eat,” Jay says. He places a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate for me, along with some grapes. Beth fixes me a cold glass of water. Then they each grab a plate for themselves and join me.

“Remember when Preacher and I served in Ghana?” Beth asks.

I nod.

“We met a lady who lived in a tiny home all by herself.”

I nod again, trying hard to stay focused.

“Lost her entire family to the rebellion. She was the only survivor. She always fixed her famous stew, using all kinds of vegetables we couldn't name. And she'd invite us to eat with her. She used to say, ‘No matter what happens, never eat alone.' ”

“I like that idea,” Jay says, enjoying his sandwich and trying to lighten the mood.

Together they keep up the chitchat while taking their time through the meal. But it's all I can do to take a bite of my sandwich. The rest of my food sits untouched.

Afterward Beth and I tackle the dishes. I go through the motions, trying not to be a burden. When we're done, Jay grabs his keys. “Okay, Gloopy. Ready?”

“No.” I'm not ready.

Beth gives Jay a look of surrender, and he takes charge. “Well, that's all right. There's really no reason you have to do it today. But there is something we want to show you.”

With reluctance I follow them to Jay's truck. He drives us to the old Walker Junior High building where Ellie would be in school. Before I can protest, I realize what they've brought me here to see. Out front the chain-link fence is filled with turquoise ribbons, each one tied against the wind. Students have left cards and flowers, stuffed animals and band posters.

“All in Ellie's honor,” Beth says. “They knew her favorite color.”

“They've tied ribbons to their backpacks too,” Jay adds. He parks and leads us to the memorial. The teens have written hundreds of letters and poems for my Ellie. Beautiful lyrics and messages, all expressing their love.

“I'm not sure how I feel about this,” I admit. “I don't want the kids to think suicide is a good thing. I don't want them to follow her example, expecting to be honored somehow.”

“Vivienne agreed,” Beth says, reminding me that Viv is heading the grief counseling here for the students. “So she has the kids sign a pledge before they can get a ribbon.”

“A pledge?”

“Yep. They have to promise Ellie that they'll learn from her mistake.”

“That's a good idea,” I admit.

Beth nods. “They pledge that every time they start to think life isn't worth living, they'll think of Ellie and the promise they're making to stay alive. To not waste one single second, and instead to live as if they're living for both themselves and for Ellie. Every step they take, they can think,
This is for Ellie
. Every challenge they tackle, they can think,
I'll do this for Ellie
. They're promising to choose life, Amanda. Every one of these ribbons shows they're choosing to live.”

I can no longer hold back my tears. I lean into Jay, and hold Beth's hand, and sob.

We've spent a couple hours at the school, reading the cards and letters, accepting sympathy from Ellie's friends, and thanking the handful of grief counselors who have been brought in to help the teens cope with this terrible loss. I explain again and again that the last thing I want is for the kids to think of suicide as a viable option, a way out that brings glory. Thankfully, the counselors are setting the students straight about that, reminding them of how many people are hurting today because of Ellie's choice. They are advising that taking your own life is never the right decision.

Leaving Viv at the helm, I finally give in to Beth's urging and head for the funeral home. With clear skies and temps in the seventies, I wish Ellie could see this beautiful day.

I try my best to do as expected, but choosing Ellie's tombstone proves to be the hardest decision of my life. I shiver as the hollow tones of the funeral director's voice echo through the parlor.

“What would you like the inscription to read?” He points to a wall of sample plaques, as if the choice should be easy. Like buying a toothbrush or a pair of socks.

How can I possibly sum up my child's life with a few purchased lines? I want to tell him to place a solid boulder at the grave, plain and unmarked, to prove no words will suffice. No standard quotation or polished phrase will do. Nothing I say will ever be enough to measure my love for her. To show the worth of Ellie's life.

“I'm sorry.” I shake my head and hold my hands in the air. “I can't do this.” I turn and walk out of the funeral home as quickly as I can. Jay follows. Beth joins us a few minutes later at the truck.

“It's too soon,” I tell them, apologizing for my behavior. “I'd rather plant wildflowers than put some generic marker in that space. I just can't do it.”

“No reason to rush,” Jay says, starting his truck and driving us back to my house. “We'll be here when you're ready. Take your time.”

Jay drops us back at home, where Beth stays with me until Raelynn swings by after school. I scrub banana pudding from the aging mint-green Tupperware. The label crinkles and curls beneath my sudsy sponge, but no matter how hard I wash, the damage
has soaked too deep. The woman's words can never be erased:
“I don't know how you stand it, Amanda. Knowing your daughter is in hell.”

Her cruel confrontation crawls through me. I can stand no more. I fall to the floor, dropping the bowl and splashing the soapy water across my chest. This is how Raelynn finds me, curled on my kitchen rug. The faucet is still running.

“I can't stand any more of this pain, Raelynn. I can't.”

She scoots down to the floor and sits beside me, holding me as I weep. “What have I done? What have I done to deserve this?”

My mind spins with ways to end the hurt.

“Amanda. Look at me.”

I do as I'm told. Once Raelynn's got eye contact, she hands me a pill. “This is from Dr. Martin. Take it.” Then she stands and gives me a glass of water. I swallow it down. “It's going to help you sleep. Get us through the night. I'm not leaving you alone.”

“You told me, remember? You said if your boys ever did anything like this, you'd have to follow them out. You couldn't live through it. Remember? You said it. You understand, don't you? It's so hard, Raelynn. I can't do this.”

I'm crying again, and Raelynn convinces me to move to the sofa.

“Why'd she leave me, Raelynn? Why'd Carl leave me? Why does everybody I love leave me?” As I say these words, my entire life flashes before me. All the abandonments. Every one of them.

Raelynn takes my hand. “I'm not leaving. I'm right here. And so are Beth and Preacher and Jay. We're all here, Amanda.”

“Maybe Carl's right.” I continue spewing my deepest hurts. “Maybe all I ever do is make things worse. Maybe their problem was me. That's what he told me, Raelynn. All along it was me. Maybe if I had just left them alone . . .”

“Amanda. That's a lie. And you know it. He's filled your head with lies.”

“But what if I drove my own husband away? What if I pushed Ellie into this? What if it's my fault? And Sarah too? It's all my fault!” I am heaving, gasping for air. And then, just like that, I am asleep.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

“Your clients keep calling,” Vivienne says over the phone. “It's been a month. They miss you. So do I.”

“I'm sorry, Viv. I don't have it in me anymore.” Beanie gives me her hungry meow, so I stand to fill her bowl.

“You have to come back, Amanda. Your clients need you.”

I rub Beanie's neck as I give her the food. This draws a purr. “There's a professor over in Hammond. She's expressed interest. I'll give you her number. Maybe she'll want to buy me out.”

“Amanda, you're not hearing me. I don't want another partner. You can take it slow at first. But come back. Please. Be here.”

“I know you care, Viv.”

“More than you know,” she counters. “Besides, it's how you're wired, Amanda. You help people. That's what you were born to do. You know as well as I do, healing others is the best way to heal yourself.”

“Listen, Viv, please. I can't be responsible for another person's life. Never again.”

“Well, you can't sit around all day in that house either.”

“Jay has a friend with a real estate business, off Sherwood. He said I can work in the back. They need somebody to handle the paperwork. No stress. Just a way to keep my mind busy and bring in a paycheck. I can't go much longer without one of those.” I am feeling more and more resentment toward Carl.

“Okay.” Viv sounds unconvinced. “I'm not sure that's the best job for you, but it's better than sitting alone all day. Know this, though. I'm not going to look for a new partner. We're a team.”