by Marla Meyers
Becka, accepted the bottle of wine from the waiter, poured them another glass and said, “Yeah, Mel. We certainly have!” Then they toasted their glasses, and Becka went on to say, “To all that we’ve done and to all that well do! Cheers!”
Marissa took a sip and then set her glass down, contemplating how to tell Becka her news. Becka never missed anything.
“What’s wrong?” Becka asked Marissa, now setting her glass down too, and becoming quite serious.
Marissa sat there looking at Becka. She had held up well over the years, Marissa noticed. Her red hair, straightened into a short bob, with only tiny little lines formed around her big green eyes. She was still radiant. How could she look so good, Marissa wondered, glancing down at her own aged hands, and running her hands through her own short brown hair. Brown, because she paid to keep it that way, hiding the gray that had started ten or so years ago. She knew that she herself had gone downhill pretty quickly here lately, but she knew why. And she supposed this was as good a time as ever to tell Becka.
“Becka,” she began, her eyes filling with water, “you are my best friend in the whole world.”
“Of course I am!” Becka joked, but then noticed the tear fall from Marissa’s left eye, and asked again, “Marissa, what’s wrong?”
“I have cancer, Becka,” she said, looking at her friend and waiting for a reaction. Then she said, “It’s bad. I don’t have long.”
Becka just sat there, with her mouth wide opened for a few seconds, then, unexpected to Marissa she burst out laughing. She took a sip of wine then another sip then she laughed some more.
Marissa sat there looking at her, as she wiped the tear from her eye, and she began laughing, too.
“You’re kidding, right?” Becka asked, in between laughs.
“Nope,” Marissa laughed back.
“We have been through all our husbands together and a demon possession! So, why not this too?” Becka said louder than need be, and continued to laugh.
Marissa stopped laughing and looked at Becka, trying to pull herself together and stop laughing also. Then Becka said smugly, “Well, good thing you live with the Miracle Child, huh?” Then she laughed some more, obviously thinking this was a strange twist of fate.
Marissa continued to look at her, still not laughing and with a very straight face.
“Mel, what’s wrong? All she has to do is touch you! And boom you’re cured! Have you told her?” Becka asked.
Marissa still did not say anything. Becka knew something was not right. “God, Marissa. Tara touches those children every day! They get well! You live with her!”
Marissa shrugged, knowing that the realization of what she had said was getting ready to hit Becka like a ton of bricks.
“Marissa! Say something! All she has to do is touch you! Hasn’t she done that? Isn’t the cancer just going away? She made it go away, right?” Becka said, her voice becoming more serious. “She’ll just make it go away,” Becka said, finishing her glass of wine and pouring herself another.
“It’s gotten worse, Becka. I’m dying,” Marissa told her quietly.
“No…you’re not,” Becka said, now fighting tears and fidgeting in her seat, chugging on the wine.
“Becka,” Marissa said, reaching over to touch her friend’s hand, her eyes confirming what she had just told her.
“No, Marissa. God would not do this.” She held up her finger and pointed it at Marissa. “Because you see he gave you a gift. You have Tara. She makes people better every day! We both know that! You will get better! No, Mel God would not do this!”
“I have about six months, maybe a little more,” Marissa told Becka, as Becka yanked her hand away.
“No ” Becka said, beginning to cry, “we have been through worse than this. Nothing has ever been normal! Tara will fix it! Remember when I had my wreck?” Becka continued, excitedly and smiling, “Tara came to the hospital. They said I would be paralyzed.” Then she snickered, “But, we all knew I wouldn’t be…didn’t we? I walked three days later! See Mel, Tara will fix it! You’ll get better.”
“Becka, Brycen is never around. I know it is a huge responsibility, but Tara will need you when I am gone,” Marissa told her, reaching again to touch her hand, as Becka began to fold up in her chair, covering her eyes, and not speaking.
“You’re the only one that knows,” Marissa told her, now fighting tears herself. “You’re the only one that knows. You and Tara,” she repeated.
“What a cruel trick,” Becka said, trying to conceal her tears and looking up towards the ceiling. “What a cruel trick. To give you a daughter that heals those she touches…and then, when you’re sick ” and she drifted off.
“Becka, listen to me. Please, listen,” Marissa said.
Becka was shaking her head and waving her hands, picking up the glass of wine in between, and telling Marissa, “No…I won’t listen. I know that child can make you better.”
“Becka…for whatever reason, it is not happening. I am getting worse. Do you hear me? I am getting worse!” Marissa told her, needing her to understand and to talk about Tara.
“I can’t believe this is happening…I just can’t believe it,” Becka finally said.
They sat atop the Gondola until early into the morning. They talked about Tara, about arrangements that would need to be made, and about all they had been through together. They laughed they cried and they drank another bottle of wine.
Chapter 33
“How many times are the three of us going to do this hospital thing?” Becka asked, sarcastically, as she and Tara sat on the edge of Marissa’s bed.
“I mean there was Tara’s accident, and then there was my wreck a couple of years ago…and now this!” Becka continued, trying to make light of the facts.
Marissa had gotten worse faster than they had expected, in only a couple of months. Tara and Becka took turns staying with her. Tara would come every day after school. Marissa had made her promise to finish school. It was her last year and she was having a really hard time. The constant frustration she felt over not being able to do anything for Marissa had caused her grades to drop and a lot of sleepless nights. But, she tried, for her Mother’s sake, to get up and go every day. When they weren’t at the hospital, which was seldom, Becka stayed with Tara at the house.
One afternoon they went to the house together. They plopped down on the couch to rest and to eat a little something, before heading back to the hospital. Not realizing how exhausted they both were, they each positioned themselves on the L-shaped sofa and decided to take a nap. About thirty minutes into their nap, Tara sprung up and off the couch.
“Becka! Get up!” Tara said, sounding frantic.
“What’s wrong?” Becka asked, startled and trying to wake up.
“We have to go. I need to see Mom.”
Assuming Tara had had some sort of vision or something, Becka began to cry, “Oh…not now! Not without us there! Oh Lord, No!” she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.
“No, Aunt Becka no! I’m sorry…not that!” Tara
reassured her that she had not foreseen her Mother’s death. “Something else! I have to go back to Mom’s farm where she grew up. I have to go there!”
“Why?” Becka asked, relieved that her first instinct had been wrong.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just have to go there,” Tara said, pacing around the living room. “Let’s go back to the hospital.”
“Okay, let’s do that,” Becka said, wanting to hurry back to Marissa and see for herself that everything was as they had left it.
When they walked in, two nurses were standing over Marissa. They turned and looked sadly at Tara and Becka. Becka’s heart sunk.
“She’s not good,” the first nurse whispered to her.
“You might want to stay. I think she has been waiting for you,” the second nurse told them, as they both walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Becka and Tara walked over to Marissa�
��s bedside, where she lay with her head turned to one side, facing them. Her eyes were glassy, with deep circles underneath. All the weight she had lost left her looking frail and much older.
Even though Tara had done her hair every day, and Becka had helped her put on a little makeup from time to time she looked…well, she still looked like Marissa and Mom…to them.
“Mom,” Tara leaned down and whispered to her Mother.
Marissa talked slow and soft to her daughter, “Tara…”
“Mom, I’m here,” Tara said crying.
Becka stood crying also, holding Marissa’s hand.
“Tara,” Marissa began again, very slowly, “go to the farm.”
Tara smiled “Mom. You had the dream, too, didn’t you?”
Marissa, barely able to smile, said, “Yes, my darling angel, I did.”
“Why, Mom? Why do I need to go there?”
“I don’t know,” Marissa whispered. “It is your destiny, though. Go, my sweet angel.”
“Mom! Don’t you leave me!” Tara cried, “I need you. Please, Mom!.
Becka continued holding Marissa’s hand, herself sobbing uncontrollably.
Then Marissa looked slowly up at Becka, and motioned her with her hand, but Becka couldn’t tell what she wanted.
“What, Mel what?” she asked, between sobs.
“If I show you, you won’t jump on the bed, will you?” Marissa asked, still in a whisper, struggling with every breath.
“No…Mel…No…I promise!” Becka said, managing to crack a smile, knowing that Marissa was remembering back to when Becka had jumped on her bed in an effort to wake her up all those years ago.
Marissa slowly, with Tara’s assistance, lifted the covers up over her ankles to reveal her feet her toes. They were painted in ten different colors.
“Oh Jesus Christ!” Becka said, stepping back. “Did the nurses do that?” she continued, laughing in between sobs, at Marissa’s humorous timing.
Marissa nodded yes’ and smiled at Becka.
Becka turned to face the wall for a minute, in an effort to pull herself together, to no avail. When she turned back around, Tara had crawled into the bed with her Mother and had wrapped her arms all around her.
“Mommy maybe I’m not doing it right. Maybe,” and she began sobbing harder and harder. “Why can’t I make you well?” she begged, in an effort to shed life back into her Mother. “Mom please…get well!!” Tara said, almost in an angry tone, holding her closer and closer. “Mom!!” Tara said again.
Becka sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Tara’s shoulder, the other one clutching Marissa’s hand.
“Mom!” Tara screamed, as Marissa’s eyes were shutting. “Please, Mom!” Tara begged.
“Let her go, baby. Let her go.” Becka told Tara, trying to be strong for her.
“No!” Tara snapped, as she pulled Marissa closer to her, “Mom, wake up!”
Becka covered her face, her body shaking, as the tears streamed down her face. She watched Tara hysterically, begging her Mother to wake up.
Then, Marissa did open her eyes.
“Mom?” Tara said, sounding hopeful. “Mom?”
Marissa looked over at Becka and smiled up at her. “I love you, Becka.”
“Oh, God…Mel…I love you, too.”
Then she looked at her daughter, who looked so lost and uncertain as to what the future would hold for her. She knew that she would not be able to be there for her, but had faith and trust in Becka to be there in her absence. So many unanswered questions, she laid there thinking, as she watched her daughter and best friend preparing to let her go.
“Tara…” Marissa whispered, “you are innocent, pure of heart. You will shine with purpose. I love you my sweet angel baby. Enjoy your freefall from here on out it will be divine. I love you.”
“I love you, Mom,” Tara answered her, as her Mother struggled to say one more thing.
“What, Mom?” Tara asked her, straining to hear her. “There he is, Tara. Do you see him?” Marissa softly whispered.
Tara glanced around the room, then back at her Mother. “No, Mom. I don’t see anyone.”
“Joshua,” Marissa whispered, softly. “It’s Joshua.”
Then Marissa closed her eyes for the last time. Tara laid there on the bed holding her, while Becka sat next to her, still clutching her hand and glancing down at her toenails painted in all the different colors. Then she quietly said, “Good-bye, Mel.”
Chapter 34
There were a lot of people in attendance at the funeral. So many flowers, Becka thought, as she looked around, when she and Tara arrived. This would be one of the hardest days of her life, she knew.
But, she knew also, that she needed to be strong, for Tara.
Paul was sitting alone in the front row when they arrived.
“Paul,” Becka said, approaching him.
He stood up and hugged her. “I should have been there,” he told Becka, crying softly.
Paul and Kelly had gotten to the hospital about fifteen minutes after Marissa had gone, and Paul was pretty torn up about it. She tried to console him, but her own heart was breaking. What would life be like without Mel? She glanced around the room. Lots of familiar faces. Brycen stood off to the side, alone. He and Tara had grown further and further apart over the years.
Tara stood at the casket, gently touching her Mother’s hand, when Becka finally convinced her to come and sit down with her. Tara held Becka’s hand the entire time.
Afterwards, Becka respectfully listened to things people always say after a funeral. ‘Didn’t she look good?’ and ‘She’s at peace now’ and ‘She’s not in any pain any more’. But, inside Becka wrestled with her own pain, and she wanted to lash out at everyone, to tell them, ‘No! She didn’t look good! God stole her from me way too soon, and what about her precious daughter? It was too soon, and there is not one good thing about any of this!’ But, she just listened and nodded her head in agreement.
Afterwards, everyone came back to the house. Tara stayed in her room most of the time. So, Becka walked the room, listening to more post funeral gab, wishing that everyone would just hurry up and leave. Not that these people didn’t love Marissa and weren’t hurting themselves, she just wanted them to go away. She didn’t want to make small talk any more. She didn’t want to talk about who brought what foods. She didn’t want to hug anyone else. She just wanted them to all go away.
And, as she closed the door behind Paul, the last one to leave, relief consumed her body, and she folded onto the floor, still clutching the doorknob. Hard, powerful sobs were escaping, sobs she had forced herself to hold in front of everyone. It was only a few seconds before she felt Tara sit down on the floor beside her and wrap her arms around her. They sat there for a while on the floor together. Then Tara finally said, softly, and turning to face Becka, “Aunt Becka, we have to go.”
And, Becka, unsure how she was going to function from that day forward, looked at Tara, and knew that somehow, she needed to get up off that floor, and go with her.
“I know,” she said, in a whisper, and Tara helped her to her feet.
They left all the food on the table, did not even grab a suitcase. They locked the door and got in the car. Becka drove. They didn’t say much to each other for the first part of the trip, but Becka could tell that Tara was becoming more and more anxious, the closer they got. She sat up straighter and straighter in the seat and was straining to look all around her. Becka thought she looked like a small child, seeing something for the very first time.
“Hurry, Aunt Becka,” she said, becoming excited…and smiling.
Becka didn’t feel like hurrying and she didn’t feel like smiling, but she pushed a little harder on the accelerator for Tara, who obviously knew something that she did not.
“What’s the rush?” Becka asked her, looking all around, but not seeing anything.
Tara didn’t answer her, but was becoming more and more anxious, and giggling like a small child would.
And as Tara reached down to tightly tie one of her shoes that was untied, she looked over at Becka. “Isn’t it great, Becka? Can you feel it?” Tara asked, excitedly, but not really expecting an answer, but instead…continued looking out the window, smiling.
Becka was looking around, but all she could see were fields all around them, as they drove down the small one lane highway, heading towards the farm.
“Tara, what are we looking for?” Becka asked her, she too becoming more anxious now.
Tara’s face glowed, as she pointed to the sky. “Look, Becka!”
Becka strained to look up into the clouds, where there rested the most beautiful rainbow she had ever laid eyes on. It was breathtaking. She looked at it for a few seconds, then back at Tara.
“Is that it?” Becka asked, confused now.
“No Becka!” Tara giggled. “The children. We’re here for the children!”
“What children? Where?” Becka asked, searching the fields with her eyes, as she continued to drive towards the farm, closer and closer.
“Stop the car!” Tara shouted. Becka screeched to a halt and Tara jumped out. Becka followed.
There, walking along the road was a woman, holding a small boy. The woman looked exhausted, like she had been walking for a very long time. The child’s eyes were closed and he was sweating profusely. As Tara approached her, the woman looked at her, long and hard, then asked softly, “Are you the one? Are you the one in our dreams?”
Becka stood watching as Tara touched the boy’s head. He slowly opened his eyes and began to wiggle. The woman laughed and held her son tightly, before saying, Thank you…oh thank you!”
She set the boy down and they turned around to head back in the direction they had come from. Tara stood, staring straight ahead. Becka turned to see the woman and boy. He was jumping down the road and the woman was skipping beside him.
