Tilt (47 page)

Okay, I get that she didn’t

have a support system. Still,

“You said not at first. What

about later?” Did you miss her?

Later I regretted my decision.

She turns toward Mom.
I’m sorry

I wasn’t stronger.
The whole truth.

Tia

The Whole Truth

Is like a big old spoonful

of cough syrup. Hard to

gag down, but necessary.

I had absolutely

no

clue that I had a sister

somewhere. You’d think

Mom would want me

to have that kind of

information,

if only to avoid a surprise

of this magnitude. I came

here, convinced it was

a scam, and it still

might be,

but what’s become crystal

clear is that she and I

are related. What I don’t

know is if that’s good or

a really bad thing.

Shane

Bad Things

Happen to good people.

Isn’t that what they say?

What I’m confused about

is why. Hey, all-powerful Dude

in the sky! Why? I asked

Mom why God let Shelby live

at all, if this was the most

He was going to allow her.

I can’t speak for God,
she said.

But I have thought long and hard

about this. Shelby has given us

a glimpse of human perfection,

because inside that flawed

body is a spirit untouched

by greed or artifice or hatred.

Shelby is the essence of love.

And so maybe the reason for

her short time here is to show

us how we might love better.

My first thought was “sermon.”

But later I noticed Dad join

Mom on the deck, watching

the city light up against

a falling curtain of night.

He put his arm around her

shoulder. Said something

I couldn’t hear. And then

they kissed. Gently at first,

then with passion, something

I thought was long dead to them.

So maybe Mom was right.

Maybe Shelby’s mission

was to teach us to love better.

It Is Early Morning

The light through the glass

is pallid. Weak, and yet enough

to wake me here on the couch,

where Gram and I talked long into

the night with Aunt Andrea.

Planning for after. Yes, there will

be an after. Calls to make:

the funeral home

relatives

friends

acquaintances

Beyond that, there is Dad’s request

that Shelby’s room be emptied,

boxed

scrubbed

painted

carpet replaced

All these things whirl around in

my head. And then I hear,

no

no

sobbing

weeping.

In the Recliner

Aunt Andrea stirs from her dreams.

Gram comes from the kitchen.

None of us hurries. We know there

is no reason, and Mom and Dad

deserve a few private minutes

of mourning. I don’t have to look

through her door to know Shelby

is gone. It’s like her energy was sucked

from her room, leaving us all in

a vacuum. Conflicting emotions

tug-of-war inside my head, my heart.

Shock.       Certainty.

Grief.       Relief.

Joy at her escape to freedom.      Anger at what might have been.

Gram Goes to Make the First Call

This early on a holiday morning,

an answering service person is

the first one to hear that Shelby

has died. The funeral parlor

director is doing his Labor Day

thing. It will take a while for

someone to come collect my

sister’s shell. Meanwhile, Mom

refuses to let go of her hand.

Why is she getting so cool?

I don’t want her to be cold.

I have to keep her warm.

I want to help Mom, but have no

idea how. I want to put my arm

around Dad, cry into his shoulder.

But we haven’t shared that kind

of intimacy since I was a little boy.

And anyway, he’s propping up Mom.

Death Is Awkward

Despite all the talking, all the planning,

no one really knows what to
do
. I glance

around the room at all the specialized

equipment we won’t need anymore.

For years, it’s been the heartbeat

of this house. It has been silenced.

The hush is stunning. Finally, Gram

asks,
Did you note the time of death?

We were instructed to write it down

for the death certificate. Mom shakes

her head, but Dad says,
Six thirty-eight

a.m.
None of us asks if he’s sure. What

does it really matter, anyway? I want

to call Alex, but it’s so very early.

I can’t do anything more in here, though,

so I go into the living room. Outside

the sliding glass doors, storm clouds

simmer up, black over the hills. Fitting.

It Is Ten A.M.

Before they arrive with a gurney.

Shelb’s last trip in a stander of sorts.

I smile,

thinking about the times

Alex and I pushed her back

and forth between us.

I cry,

remembering the cruel words

“retard” and “alien.”

I wonder

for not exactly the first time

how much Shelby was aware