“
Deal,” he says. “Now let’s go work the highway, everyone’s waiting.”
It is mostly the same group from the previous Friday, with the exception of the missing Cara and the missing Mike and the addition of Bill the cop. They don their gloves and pull their trash picking tools from the back of the truck. Joe is corralled by one of the other business owners and Shannon finds herself walking alongside Joe’s sister.
“
I’m surprised you’re here,” Joe’s sister says.
“
Why?”
“
He told me about Wilmington.”
“
What did he tell you?”
“
He told me he unexpectedly had to stay overnight, he didn’t say why, and that he was supposed to go running with you on Thursday but he couldn’t make it.”
“
People get delayed on business all the time,” Shannon says.
“
Yeah well he also told me about having Danny call you to try to smooth things over. My brother can be such an idiot.”
“
You know about Danny?”
“
Everyone knows about Danny,” she said. “After Michael Jordan and Chris Daughtry I imagine she’s the most famous person from North Carolina.”
“
Yes I don’t understand why he would do that. I mean I saw their picture in the online paper, she’s a beautiful woman, and they’re obviously great together, so I don’t understand why he would do that.”
“
He explained it. He said you told him not to call you. But you didn’t tell him not to have his old college girlfriend call you. That’s the way he thinks. He can be kinda literal.”
“
Old college girlfriend?”
“
First of many. Until Colleen. She was his last girlfriend. Until you.”
“
I wouldn’t put myself in the ‘girlfriend’ category,” Shannon says.
“
Well you’ve got the pissed off, jealous, I got stood up thing working pretty good this morning,” Joe’s sister says. “Puts you in the ‘girlfriend of Joe’ category for me.”
“
My bag is full,” Shannon says. She stops walking and waits for the sag wagon truck to catch up to her. While she waits, Joe works his way back to her.
“
Will you help me do the lane up to the cemetery?” he asks her. “They can pick us up on the other side on the way back.”
“
Yes,” Shannon answers.
They walk the lane into the immaculate but inevitably overgrown cemetery. There is no trash to be seen in any direction.
“
This is easy work,” Shannon says.
“
It’s about to get harder,” Joe says. “For me.”
He stops in front of two headstones, one larger, one smaller.
“
Caitlin is on the left, Colleen is on the right,” Joe starts. “The Foundation in Wilmington is in Caitlin's honor. It allows kids who wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford treatment, all the way to a transplant, to get treated. I go down there once a month to see the kids, and twice a year for board meetings. The other night we had a fund raiser and then I saw some patients. One little girl was near the end. It was so similar to how it was with Caitlin. This little girl, all she wanted was for her dad and brother to meet Danny. Her dying wish was for her dad and brother to see Danny. She wanted her dad and brother to have something to be happy about. She said they’d been sad for too long.”
Shannon says nothing. She takes his hand because the twenty year old pain from Caitlin is real and returned and present. They keep looking at the graves.
“
After Caitlin died, Colleen blamed herself. And she was right to. So was I.”
“
You can’t blame yourself or your wife that your daughter got sick,” Shannon starts.
“
We didn’t blame ourselves that she got sick. We blamed ourselves that we didn’t start her treatment sooner. We were extreme Fundamentalists back then. Thought that prayer was the right way and the only way to deal with illness, that all the science and medicine was hubris, Man’s way of thinking he could do something about one of God’s creations. We thought that if God had made a child sick that there was a reason and who were we to interfere in His plans with medicine.”
“
I see,” Shannon says.
“
Our little girl suffered and suffered for our Fundamentalist pride. I see now that that’s what it was. Pride. We were so proud of our stance against medicine. I hardly believe it now. But I do. I still see it in people around here. The Fundamentalists. Their faith is more important than reality. Their pride is a sin but it is a sin they embrace. The reality is that Caitlin could have been treated if we hadn’t let it go so long. I know that now, through my work with the Foundation. I see little girls like Caitlin who are cured, not a lot, but I see them. She could have been one of them. But she wasn’t. She was a poor girl who suffered acutely because she got sick and because her parents wouldn’t let her get treated until it was too late.”
“
It was a long time ago,” Shannon says.
“
Yes. But let me finish. Colleen never forgave herself for Caitlin’s passing. She blamed herself constantly. And she blamed me too. I left our church, and have never gone back. She went deeper and deeper into the church. Started fasting and doing other things. We grew apart. At the end, before she killed herself, we were basically living separate lives. I had thrown myself into the business, and into starting the Foundation, and she had thrown herself into the Church. I admit now that her passing was a relief. She killed herself with guilt. It’s that simple. I used to look for deeper meanings, explanations, but that simple one is the best.”
“
How did you feel about it?” Shannon asks.
“
I didn’t feel anything about it for a long time,” Joe says. “I think I had used up all my feelings watching Caitlin’s decline and then demise. I think that was all the feelings I had. I avoided any leftover feelings by working, probably the same way that Colleen went looking for feelings in the Church. We both dealt with it differently. Luckily for me, setting up the Foundation and focusing on my business turned out to be positive things. Unluckily for Colleen, spending all that time embracing her guilt was not a positive thing.”
Shannon turns him towards him. Takes his other hand in his.
“
Thanks for sharing that with me,” she says.
She does not kiss him.
She releases one hand, and then another.
She turns her back and walks back down the lane from the cemetery, leaving him alone at their graves.
Shannon
I leave Joe’s coffee shop and head west. I will drive west until Winston-Salem, and then I will turn north, back to Ohio. I will start by the ocean, drive through the hot, humid lowlands, and then climb slowly towards the west. When I turn north there will be the low mountains of North Carolina near Pilot Mountain to traverse, then the high mountains of Virginia to cross, and then the lower mountains of West Virginia. To Coloradans these may not be mountains, but to an Ohioan they are certainly mountains, especially in the rain. ‘If it’s raining, we must be in West Virginia’ is a common saying amongst Ohioans. It always seems to rain while driving through the mountains.
I have driven this path many times before. Always sad that my time at the beach is over, but always happy to be returning to my home, and to my family. Beaulaville, Kenansville, Raleigh, Greensboro, Winston-Salem, and Mt. Airy stretch out behind me. Wytheville, Tamarac, Charleston, Athens, and Columbus await me. I know where I will stop for gas, and for coffee. I know when my car will need gas and when I will need to visit Starbucks. I know these things like I know the sun will rise in the east. They are part of my routine, part of my habits. They are comforting and waiting for me and the same. They are always the same, and I like that.
The only thing different this time around is that this time I am sad about a man. Not sad like when my ex told me about wanting a divorce while at his house on the Outer Banks. Not sad like that. Not sad about our breakup, if you can call the termination of a ten day acquaintance a breakup. But sad for Joe and the pain he has dealt with in his life.
First the long, slow, excruciatingly painful death of his only daughter. Then the yearlong descent of his wife into madness. And finally her death at her own hand. I can only imagine. I don’t want to imagine. In a way I am glad that it is over, because I don’t know that I could be with a man who is still carrying around that much hurt. And I would never want to contribute to any hurt like that.
With the mountains in my rear view mirror I see that I was going to use him as an experiment. That I was going to use his body to re-awaken mine. And then I was likely going to discard him. So our parting is for the best. For him, because he has been spared this new careless hurt I would bestow upon him, and for me, because at some point I would feel guilty for using him like that.
Joe says he is no longer sad about Caitlin and Colleen and all of it. He says he isn’t, but he is. I could see it in his eyes, and feel it in his touch while he told me about them at the graveyard. His body was speaking so loudly that I could barely hear the words he was saying. His mind may be able to control his mouth to recite that he is not sad, but his heart and his body are unable to conceal the reality. I wonder if he even knows how sad he still is?
I am lucky. The only even remotely comparable pain that I have felt was self-inflicted with my ex. I let it go on too long, gave up too much of myself, and chose to live with the abscessed tooth rather than have it pulled. Finally he ended it. It should have ended much sooner. Never again.
More and more hours stretch away and finally I am pulling into my own driveway after twelve hours on the road. I almost stopped in Athens for the night, but the last cup of coffee kicked in and I made it home. Now my tiredness wars with the coffee. The tiredness will win. I shower then slip between my sheets completely naked, which I rarely do. As the caffeine and the fatigue fight it out my mind drifts to Joe, and my hands drift to my nakedness. This is something else that I rarely do. I drift away and then drift off, the same Shannon, but somehow different in a way I can neither see, touch, nor name. Different in a way I can only feel, and only for a moment.
I sleep.
My dreams are confusing montages of Joe, my ex, Danny, my sister, the family, and the beach, always the beach.
Shannon
It is August and I am walking slowly eastward along the sandy, mile long beach at Mentor Headlands with my sister Cara. We are walking towards the large, white, boxy lighthouse that guards the entrance to the harbor. Neither of us has spoken. Finally my sister cannot take it any longer.
“
So how’d you leave it with Joe?” Cara asks.
“
I told him not to call, not to email, not to bother me. I told him no hard feelings. He tried to explain, and I let him for a while, but he could tell I wasn’t buying it, so he stopped.”
“
He stopped?”
“
Yes. He stopped. In mid-sentence actually. Kind of did a little reboot, changed the subject, and didn’t return to his excuse.”
“
What was his excuse?” Cara asks.
“
It was almost believable. But even if everything he said was true, which I doubt, but even if it was all true, he still earned a dumping.”
“
How?”
“
Because he didn’t invite me in the first place. He didn’t tell me what he was doing. He didn’t tell me that his old girlfriend was going to be there. And he didn’t bother to call when he knew he was going to stand me up. Add it all up, and you get a man who doesn’t make the cut. I wondered a few times why a great guy like that would be single, but I don’t wonder it anymore.”
“
What did he have to say about the chippy?” Cara asks.
“
Her name is Danny. She’s a NASCAR driver if you can believe that. She’s from just off the island, and a little ways up near Jacksonville. Her dad was a Marine there the same time Joe’s dad was. So they went through junior and senior years at high school together. I guess they were quite an item.”
“
Were?” Cara asks.
“
That’s what he says. And, I have to admit, I did a little Internet research and that’s what the Internet says too.”
“
So what was his excuse?”
“
As far as I could tell, he said he stayed with a sick kid until it was too late to come back so he stayed over and overslept.”
“
I’ll bet I know why...” Cara says.
“
That’s what I figure too. But Danny says no.”
“
You talked to her?”
“
She called me to try to explain. He clearly put her up to it.”
“
You’re right. That’s a guy who doesn’t make the cut. He gets his chippy to call you and beg for mercy?”