The Plan (8 page)

Claire slowly made her way down the hallway and stopped at Luke's door.
“Do Not Enter,”
the handwritten sign, secured with Scotch tape to the wood, screamed at her. Luke had carefully printed those words, with bursts of fire coming out of them, when he'd found his sisters chewing an entire pack of gum he'd bought with his own money.

Claire almost heeded the warning and then changed her mind. She turned the knob, which was still sticky from dirty hands, and opened the door. It was dark inside. Luke's room was always dark. Unlike his sisters' room, with its whole wall of windows, Luke's room had only one tiny glass opening in the back corner and his ceiling lamp never seemed bright enough. Claire had been meaning to get him a floor lamp to add some light, but had never gotten around to it.

She flicked the switch to her left and the ceiling bulbs hummed as they lit. The room was as unkempt as she remembered. Legos all over the floor. The bed unmade.
Star Wars
posters, drawings, and souvenirs Luke had collected from every school event he'd ever attended hung from thumbtacks on the wall. She walked over to the hamper and removed the lid. Like Jack's, it was full. She picked up the shirt that was crumpled on top. It smelled like Tide. That little bugger. Instead of putting away his clean clothes, as she'd no doubt asked of him, he'd put them all back in the hamper to be rewashed.

That's one way to avoid putting your clothes away.

Such a trick would have irritated Claire to no end a few months ago. Now she had to smile at his ingenuity.

Still, she was sad the clothes smelled so clean and not like her little boy. She wanted to breathe Luke in again.

She laid the shirt back in the hamper and replaced the lid. She didn't want to change anything in the room. She wanted it to remain exactly as it had been the last time her son was in it. She walked quietly to the bed and sat down on the end. She could feel the springs through her bottom. Why hadn't she gotten Luke a better mattress? He'd never complained, but each time she'd lie with him, she'd think,
This kid has the most uncomfortable bed in the whole house.
Why had she waited to give him something better? Why did she put off so many things for tomorrow?

Why hadn't she known tomorrow might never come?

She picked up his favorite stuffed bear, Lester, and held it to her chest. When Luke was little, Lester used to travel everywhere with them—to the grocery store, the bank, church, sleepovers at Gia's house. Eventually, he'd graduated to simply a friend for bedtime.

Claire kissed the top of Lester's head and placed him gently against the pillow. Then, thinking better of it, she laid him down and pulled the covers up to his chin, as she'd done to Luke two thousand times before.

She found herself wandering, next, into the twins' room. As she pressed the door open, she was greeted by a burst of sunshine. The star mobile hanging from the ceiling glittered in the light. The matching vanities, at the end of each bed, were covered in lipstick and eye shadow stains—items the girls were not supposed to have, but somehow seemed to get their hands on anyway. The beds, as expected, were unkempt and their clean clothes, unlike Luke's, were in piles at the ends of the beds.

At least these kids hadn't tried to pull one over on her.

But what did it matter?
Disobedient children?
What she wouldn't do to have them back—the scowls, the tempers and the stomping of feet as she told them to clean their rooms. In fact, if she had them back, she'd help them all clean their rooms. Why hadn't she done that more often?

Keeping your rooms clean isn't my responsibility.

She's said that a hundred times. But, what had been her responsibility? Keeping them safe? She'd failed at that. Miserably. The least she could've done would've been to hang up Nike sweatshirts and tuck Elmo T-shirts into drawers.

Claire wanted to go lie down on one of the girls' beds. She wanted to pick up their stuffed animals and hold them and cry for all the things she wished she'd done better as a mom and all the things she'd now never get to do with her girls. She used to joke with Jack that, like on
The Brady Bunch,
the girls would have a double wedding. Now she'd never get to see either one of them in a wedding gown. Never watch them grow into young women and see them float down the stairs in their prom dresses. She'd never buy another baseball bat or ballet slipper or school notebook. No more piano lessons or Girl Scout meetings or Sunday School musicals.

She hadn't just lost her children. She'd lost her life.

And, without a life, what was the point of living? How was she going to spend the next sixty years without her family?

She didn't think she could survive the next sixty minutes.

It was all too much for one person to handle. Too heavy a load to bear. She couldn't possibly be expected to continue.

She was living in a hell worse than anything she'd ever imagined. Every mother fears the loss of a child to a miscarriage, an accident or an illness. Sometimes, when her babies were tiny, Claire would watch them sleep and feel such pain for the parents who'd lost a child to SIDS. She hadn't been able to imagine anything worse than waking up to find your baby was gone.

That would be a complete nightmare.

Torture.

A man who loses his wife is a called a widower and a woman who loses her husband is now a widow. But what is someone who loses a child called?

There was no name for that.

And if there was no name for that, there was certainly no word for someone who'd lost everyone.

She no longer had an identity. She wasn't a wife. She was no longer
a mom. She'd stopped being a daughter years earlier. There wasn't anything to call her. She wasn't anything to anybody.

Claire had always found her identity in those she loved. She loved being Jack's wife.
Mrs. Matthews.
She used to beam when the other kids at her children's school would call out, “Hi, Ella's mom!” Or Luke's or Lily's.

She used to be proud to be her parents' daughter.

But now she belonged to no one.

That was insufferable. She wouldn't live like that.

She couldn't.

Her babies needed her. Jack was missing her.

She needed to be with them again.

Claire turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. There'd be no more nights alone. She wanted to be with her family.
Needed
to be with them.
Why couldn't other people see that?

She should've gotten back in that car, allowed herself to burn with it. Why had she let someone pull her away?

She hated herself for leaving them alone.

But no more. They wouldn't be alone anymore. Mommy was coming. Mommy would be holding them soon. They'd be a family again. The way they were meant to be.

Forever.

Gia rolled over in bed for what seemed like the hundredth time. She couldn't sleep. The visit with Bill and Nancy had set her nerves on edge and they weren't even her in-laws.

She'd never cared for them. Claire hadn't, either. But being the kind person Claire was, she'd rarely complained about them over the years. In fact, she'd barely spoken about them, which was a sure sign Claire disliked them. If Claire liked someone, as she did most people she met, Gia couldn't get her to shut up about the interesting tidbits of their lives she'd uncovered.

But Nancy and Bill? Claire was practically mute on the couple. Gia always felt Claire believed complaining about the Matthews would be disrespectful to Jack. They were his parents and had raised him to be a wonderful man and husband. There must be something redeeming about them, right?

But Gia had never been so sure.

Nancy had pulled a lot of crap over the years, making Claire's life much more difficult than it needed to be. Nancy would change their plans to visit at the last moment, always right after Claire had spent two days cleaning the entire house. Or, like today, they'd just “pop in” for a visit, when Claire was knee deep in Play-Doh and poop. For years, that had been Claire's favorite expression. Whenever Gia would call, Claire would inevitably say she was “knee deep in Play-Doh and poop.” When Nancy would show up on such a day, unannounced,
she'd inevitably have some snide comment to make about the condition of Claire's house or the state of the children.

Nancy felt the world revolved around her. Instead of coming to help Claire after she gave birth to Luke, Nancy insisted she had a stomach bug or a broken toe—Gia couldn't remember which. Maybe it was both. And, she actually asked if Jack could come stay with
them
so his dad could get a break from helping her. Jack, of course, saw through the charade and refused to leave Claire's side. Claire had been grateful for this, but she'd felt as if she'd somehow caused Jack to choose between her and his parents.

Gia couldn't stand Nancy and the fact she'd had the nerve to show up today and act as if her life was worse than Claire's. It had taken all Gia had to not punch the woman.

Claire hadn't said a word since her in-laws had left and Gia had given Claire space. When Gia eventually made it upstairs, Claire was back in bed, a new murder show on the TV. She'd barely acknowledged Gia, even though Gia had lain down on the bed next to her to watch an episode. The show had been so depressing Gia didn't know how Claire could watch such horror while in the middle of her own nightmare.

Grief was a funny thing. After the accident, Gia had begun reading a number of books on it, searching for ways to help Claire. It wasn't as if Gia and Claire hadn't been down this road of sorrow before. Gia had been Claire's roommate when both of Claire's parents had passed away. When her mom died, it had almost been a relief for Claire. She'd watched her mom suffer, for such a long time. Claire had felt some emotional release with the knowledge there'd be no more pain. But when her dad died? That had been a completely unexpected tragedy. Gia had done her best to help Claire through that time. She was Claire's closest friend and confidante. Gia had to admit, though, she'd been so thankful Jack had come into the picture right then, when
Claire needed him most. Truth be told, Gia needed him, too. She never seemed to know what to say or do to help Claire. Because of Jack, she didn't need to worry quite as much about not doing the right thing because he seemed to always be doing it. He took a lot of the pressure off Gia and she knew she'd be eternally grateful. She owed Jack.

Now, it was just her. There was no one else to help Claire through these dark days. No family. Very few friends. Everyone loved Claire, but Claire didn't have many people to whom she felt close. Though always pleasant, she was a quiet soul who'd invested most of her time and life into her family. Jack. Her kids. Her parents before that. Gia was all she had left. And it was a weight Gia felt heavily. Gia wanted to help Claire through her grief. She truly did. But boy, did Gia miss Jack. He'd always been the one who knew what to say in a difficult time.

Now there was no one. And Gia worried about that constantly. She was
it.
Claire's only lifeline to the world of the living and Gia was scared to death she wasn't up to the task.

She'd been living with Claire ever since the accident. Eventually, she'd need to move out. She had a life to get back to and Claire, as sad as it was, would need to find a way to live a life without her family. But Claire wasn't at that point yet and Gia didn't see it showing up in the near future. It stressed her out.

Jack had made sure Claire and the kids would be provided for in the event of his untimely death, so there was a large life insurance policy. There were, though, no children who needed to be supported. The policy was for more money than Claire, alone, would ever need. She could easily pay off the house and live quite well for the rest of her life. Or, she could lie in bed for the next fifty years.

At the rate they were going, the latter was a distinct possibility.

Some days, Gia felt successful. She and Claire would have an enjoyable weekend. They'd go out to lunch or a movie. Or for a walk around
the park downtown. Claire would never exactly smile. And she certainly would never laugh. But her cheeks would show some color and Gia would notice the emptiness, which had taken up residence in Claire's eyes, wouldn't be quite as consuming.

Then they'd come home, and Claire would crawl right back into bed, despite Gia's pleas to stay downstairs and watch TV from the couch in the living room.

When Gia was at work, she wasn't sure what Claire did. She doubted Claire moved much. When Gia left in the morning, Claire was in bed. When she came home, Claire was in bed. There would sometimes be a dish or two in the sink, but other than that, there was no sign of life.

Gia rolled over again. She needed to fall asleep. The past month had begun to take its toll on her, too. She'd lost weight. Constantly felt exhausted. Couldn't remember the last time she'd hung out with any of her other friends. She knew they were beginning to worry about her. And dating? Forget it. Gia hadn't been out with a man in way too long. She always held out hope that one day, she'd find him.
Her Jack.
She'd never been envious of Claire for finding such an incredible man. If anything, it had given her hope such men existed, but she could never figure out why it was taking her guy so long to show up.

Gia could feel herself beginning to drift off to sleep. Her thoughts were becoming muddled and, before she knew it, she was gone, deep into slumber.

She wasn't sure what woke her. A bad dream? A crash? She was certain she'd only been asleep for a few minutes. Though, to her surprise, when she looked at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was after one in the morning. She'd been sleeping for close to two hours. Sitting up, she peered through the darkness.