Why Did She Have to Die?

by Lurlene McDaniel

  She stared into the mirror. Her nose had a bump in its bridge. Her eyes were too far apart and her lashes too skimpy, not like Kathy’s. Elly thought about the pure sapphire blue of Kathy’s eyes and the thick, luxurious lashes that had framed them. She took her eye-liner and drew a moustache on her reflection. Next she drew exaggerated lashes and brows over her mirrored eyes.

  “Better,” she said aloud. Her gaze moved to the remainder of the mirror and the surrounding spotless tile. Fresh paint had covered the usual graffiti. It annoyed Elly. She took the eye-liner and drew funny faces across the surface of the entire mirror.

  “Needs color,” she mused and fumbled in her purse for her lip gloss. She opened it and, with her finger, drew bright pink flowers around the faces.

  Elly stared at her creation, and then smeared the pink and black together with her hand. She wiped it on the clean wall. Then she took the pencil again and doodled along the wall and on the fronts of the toilet stall doors. She took her lip gloss and drew flowers on the paper towel holder and on the soap dispensers. In minutes, the room was draped in pink and black. Elly let out a strange giggle and looked at her handiwork with a smirk. “Perfect,” she said.

  “No so perfect,” a voice behind her said.

  Elly spun around. A heavy feeling swelled in her stomach. Mrs. Wenzel stood at the doorway, her arms crossed and her toe tapping. “What is the meaning of this, Elly?”

  The eye-liner and the lip gloss slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. The rattling sound echoed inside her head. Her voice wouldn’t work.

  “I think you’d better come with me, Elly. We’ll have to tell the principal what you’ve done. And then we’ll call your parents to come and get you. You know, you could be suspended for this.”

  Filled with dread, Elly gathered her belongings and mutely followed Mrs. Wenzel down the hallway to the principal’s office.

  * * * *

  “I don’t believe it.” Mr. Rowan’s comment was low and grim. “Is this true, Elly? Did you do this?”

  Elly hung her head and stared at the brown carpet in Mr. Grant’s office. They’d called her dad off a construction site when they couldn’t reach her mother. His work shirt was soaked with sweat and covered with a fine, white dust.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you, young lady.”

  The growl in her dad’s tone caused Elly to look up. She glared at him defiantly. “I was only having a little fun—”

  “Fun?! Since when is it fun to destroy school property?”

  Mr. Grant cleared his throat. “Mr. Rowan, I understand what Elly’s been going through these past few months, what with the death of her sister and all.”

  Mr. Rowan’s expression turned stony. “There’s no excuse for what she did.”

  “I agree,” Mr. Grant said. “Elly’s been a model student for years, and even though I could suspend her, I’m going to be lenient because of all she’s been through.”

  “She should be punished.”

  Elly heard the anger in her father’s voice.

  “Oh, she’ll have to clean it up. And she’ll get no privileges for the rest of the school year, but I won’t suspend her this time.”

  Elly felt tears behind her eyes, but she refused to let them go. She almost wished the principal had suspended her. When the story got around about what she’d done, everyone would be talking about her and pointing at her.

  “You bet she’ll clean it up,” Mr. Rowan said. “I’ll supervise the job myself.” He stood to leave and Elly struggled up beside him.

  Mr. Grant stopped them before they reached the door. “Mr. Rowan, I know life’s been very difficult for your family since . . . since the loss of your daughter. It was a terrible tragedy. Mrs. Wenzel suggested that perhaps some family counseling might in helpful—”

  “My family is just fine, Mr. Grant.” Elly saw her father’s knuckles go white on the doorknob.

  “Perfectly fine students don’t go about destroying school property, Mr. Rowan.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mr. Grant.” Mr. Rowan gave Elly a threatening glare. “I know you’re trying to help, but what Elly did was a stupid prank. Nothing more. Now, I’ll take my daughter home. We’ll be back after school and she’ll clean the bathroom.”

  They left the school, Elly trailing behind the tense, muscular frame of her father. She felt numb all over, numb and all alone.

  * * * *

  Elly sat by herself in the cafeteria, munching a tasteless sandwich. She surveyed the room and heard the kids’ laughter, and their chatter. What’s happening to me? She thought to herself. She couldn’t concentrate in class. She didn’t want anyone trying to be her friend. They felt sorry for her. The whole world felt sorry for “poor Elly.” She felt far away from everything.

  Her father’s disgust about her prank had followed her into her school routine. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget how badly she’d disappointed her father. The kids whispering behind her back didn’t help either. She felt friendless.

  Elly saw Dan Richards coming toward her with a plastic tray heaped with food and extra cartons of milk. He was headed for a table full of his buddies. She noticed Kenny was sitting with them. Suddenly Dan Richards’s presence annoyed her tremendously. He had snubbed Joy. Joy had liked him, and he’d ignored her. Who was he to snub Elly’s best friend anyway?

  Feeling nasty, Elly slid her crutch sideways, directly in the path of Dan Richards. He didn’t see it, because he was calling to his friends. His foot hooked around it perfectly. His tray flipped over in the air, and he fell sprawling to the floor. The food, the milk, and the tray landed in a gooey heap, and Dan slid several feet as his palms sloshed through the mashed potatoes. The noise stopped all the activity in the room. Every head turned.

  Elly pretended to be horrified, and she apologized over and over. She grabbed for some napkins and thrust them at Dan as he struggled to get up.

  “It’s okay,” Dan kept saying, wiping food off his jeans. “I didn’t see your crutch. It was my fault.”

  Elly tried to calm the racing of her pulse and pretend she was innocent. “It was an accident,” she said. “I’m so sorry. . .” After the janitor arrived to mop up the mess and Dan had left, Elly stood and smiled inwardly over her success. Dan had believed her. The thought that he’d been so easy to fool was amusing. She gripped her crutches beneath her arms and turned around. She found herself staring straight into the knowing expression of Mrs. Wenzel.

  * * * *

  “Is it true, Elly? Did you trip Dan on purpose?” Mrs. Rowan searched Elly’s eyes for the truth.

  Elly paced in front of her parents in the living room. Mr. Rowan was perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, looking too tense to speak. Elly glanced miserably down at her plaster cast. “It was an accident,” she lied.

  “That’s not what your teacher said. She said you did it deliberately. Why, Elly? Why would you do such a thing?” Mrs. Rowan pleaded.

  “You never believe me! It’s my word against hers.”

  “I believe her.” Mr. Rowan snapped. “I saw what you did to the restroom, remember? I believe you tripped that boy just to be mean.”

  Hot tears sprang to Elly’s eyes. “So what if I did? I know I’m rotten. I know I’m not perfect like Kathy.” Her voice grew shrill. Words she couldn’t stop or control rushed out of her mouth. “Don’t you see? I should have died in the car wreck. Kathy was the smart one, the perfect one, the one you loved best. I should have died.”

  She began to choke and gag over the grief catching in her throat. “Why wasn’t it me, Daddy? Why did she have to die? Why wasn’t it me instead of Kathy?”

  TWELVE

  The words kept tumbling out of Elly’s mouth. She kept seeing Kathy’s hair flying over the front seat of the car. She heard again the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass.

  Mrs. Rowan sprang from the sofa and caught Elly in her arms. “Oh, honey. Oh, my dear Elly. Don’t say such things. We love you, Elly.
We love you.”

  Her father’s face went pale, and Elly buried her face in her mother’s shoulder to avoid the pain in his expression.

  “I miss her so much, Mom. I want Kathy to come home.”

  “I know, Elly.” Her mother stroked Elly’s hair, smoothing the short wisps off her forehead. “We miss her, too. But, Elly, you’re as dear and precious to us as Kathy was. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Elly pulled away, sniffed, and took the handkerchief her father offered her. Late afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows of the living room, casting long shadows on the pale blue carpet. The shadows danced and flickered with the movement of the wind. “It—it isn’t fair. Why did Kathy die instead of me? Why?”

  “Elly.” Mrs. Rowan pulled on Elly’s hand, forcing her to look into her misted eyes. “No one can answer that question. No human mind can ever understand why bad things happen to people, why people die before their ti—” Mrs. Rowan’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat and continued.

  “All we do know is that life is for the living. You are here. And we are so grateful that you are.” Mrs. Rowan straightened her shoulders. “Elly, we’ve put off something for a long time, something we should have started when you were still in the hospital. There are doctors and groups of people who help families like us, families who’ve lost a child.”

  Mr. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Rowan shot him a warning glance. “We should have gotten help from people like that from the very beginning, but sometimes you can fool yourself. You tell yourself, ‘Hey, I’m all right. I can handle this.’ We didn’t believe we needed to talk it out. I see now that it was a mistake. You need to talk to a counselor. We need to talk with other parents who’ve gone through this. We’ve put it off far too long, and you’ve suffered for it. We must start with a support group as soon as possible. All of us. Will you go, Elly? Please?”

  Elly felt tired and drained. “Whatever you say, Mom. I’ll do anything you say.”

  * * * *

  “Do you know what a support group is, Elly?” The question came from Dr. Anita Nash. Elly shook her head, her mouth too dry to speak.

  “It’s a group of people—in your case, other kids—who’ve also lost a loved one.”

  Elly felt herself resisting the idea. She didn’t want to talk to a bunch of strange kids about her private feelings. She refused to meet Dr. Nash’s gaze. Instead, she stared across the sunny office at the diplomas hanging on the wall. The walls were coral, and there were clay pots of thick green ferns beside the golden oak furniture. The room felt cozy. Elly decided that the office suited the tall, slim psychiatrist with the dark curls and open, friendly smile.

  “Am I crazy, Dr. Nash?” Elly blurted out. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep other fears from spilling out.

  Anita Nash smiled, her warm brown eyes softening. “Elly, a person can’t go through what you went through and not have problems. Nothing is more traumatic than losing a member of one’s family.”

  “But Kathy died weeks ago.”

  “How long has your leg been in a cast?”

  “Since—since the accident.”

  “Your emotions were hurt—just like your leg was, Elly. Would you expect them to heal any quicker?”

  Elly pondered the doctor’s words. They made sense. The pain in her heart hurt far more than her leg ever had. “How long before I forget?”

  Dr. Nash reached out and touched the back of Elly’s hand, which was clutched tightly in her lap. “You may never forget. But you will be able to come to grips with your grief and live on in spite of it. Accepting death comes in stages.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Let me explain. First, there’s denial.” Elly recalled not believing her parents when they’d told her about Kathy in the hospital. “Next comes anger, then grief, and finally, acceptance. There’s no time limit on how long any one stage will last. Frankly, you’re still feeling anger. That’s why you’ve been acting the way you have. You’re a very angry girl, Elly.”

  “I still don’t want to sit around and talk about it with a bunch of strangers.”

  “Just one visit, Elly. That’s all I’m asking. Come one time and meet the others. Your parents will be attending an adult support group and each of you will be stronger for it. Sometimes, people need help from other people. Give it a chance. You won’t be sorry.”

  * * * *

  A group of ten kids sat around a conference table in Dr. Nash’s other office. They looked up curiously when Dr. Nash introduced Elly, but everyone smiled and greeted her as if they already knew her. Elly shyly took a chair, determined to make herself as unnoticeable as possible.

  “How was your week, Jamie?” Dr. Nash directed her question toward a plump boy of about eleven.

  Jamie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grinned. “Okay. I wrote down my feelings, like you said, about what I thought about when my brother died.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  Jamie thumbed through some papers in front of him. “Sam was four when he got cancer. I felt real sorry for him. And scared because I didn’t want it to happen to me. I was glad it wasn’t me, but sorry because I was glad.”

  An electric current shot up Elly’s spine. That’s how she’d felt, too. Secretly, she’d been glad she hadn’t died, yet sorry that she felt glad.

  Jamie continued. “All the time Sam was in the hospital, everybody gave him presents and lots of attention. They forgot about me. Nobody cared— not even my parents.” Jamie blinked and let his next words out in a rush. “Sometimes I wanted him to hurry up and die so I could have Mom and Dad back again.”

  Elly glanced around the table and saw kids nodding their heads in understanding. Jamie’s honesty shocked her. Was it possible to feel that way? She thought about all the times she wished she were as pretty and popular as Kathy. She remembered how she sometimes felt jealous when her father had given Kathy special attention.

  “Then when Sam did die, I couldn’t stop crying.” Jamie’s voice sounded small. “I thought I had wished him dead.”

  “But that’s not possible, is it, Jamie?” Dr. Nash asked.

  A sheepish smile crossed Jamie’s face. “No. Sam died of cancer.”

  By the time the hour was up, Elly had heard several of the kids share their feelings and she felt strangely at ease. When the group shared jokes, Elly had laughed, really laughed, for the first time in weeks. She felt very close to these kids, even though she had just met them. They were all different, but they were all alike, too. They’d all lost someone special to them. When Dr. Nash asked Elly if she would come to the next meeting, Elly agreed. She would be back. The group was already a part of her. It felt as she did; it hurt as she did. Elly realized that she wasn’t alone anymore.

  * * * *

  “We’ll have this thing off in two shakes, Elly,” Dr. Jones announced. A tiny saw cut through the hard plaster surface of Elly’s cast. Her stomach knotted. She hoped he wouldn’t slip and cut her leg.

  Mr. Rowan watched intently as the saw did its work. Elly was perched on the stainless steel table, her leg propped straight as Dr. Jones bent over his task.

  “There! It’s sliced through,” Dr. Jones said. He gripped the broken cast on either side of the cuts with a special tool that spread the hard plaster into two halves. “Here you go, Elly. A brand new leg.”

  “Ugh!” Elly wrinkled her nose. “It stinks.”

  “It’ll wash up.”

  Her leg felt so light that she thought it would float off the table. “How come it looks so scrawny?” Fear seized her as she stared at her spindly-looking appendage.

  “Your muscles have shriveled because you haven’t used them. You’ll build them up again, and in a few months it’ll look just like the other one. The top layer of skin will peel and come off, so be careful out in the sun. You could get a bad burn on it. And don’t scrub it too hard. That’s fresh, new skin. You can damage it if you’re not careful.” />
  “What’s she supposed to do for exercise?” Mr. Rowan asked.

  “Walk a lot,” Dr. Jones said. “No roller skating or downhill skiing for a while.” He chuckled. “By the end of the summer, you’ll never know it had been broken.”

  Elly looked over her leg carefully. She saw tiny scars on either side of her knee where Dr. Jones had operated. The scars would always be there. They would always remind her of the accident and the day Kathy died.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Elly. You look normal again.” A wide grin split Kenny’s face as he approached Elly in the hall. Her heart fluttered. Ever since the dance, she’d felt awkward around Kenny. She’d wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure how.

  “Thanks.” She thought he looked especially handsome in the pale yellow button-up shirt.

  “How’re things going?” he asked.

  Her first instinct was to fake a smile and say, “Just fine,” as she always did. But the support group had taught her that it was all right to tell her true feelings. Instead, she said, “Some days are better than others.”

  Kenny nodded. “So what are you going to do this summer?”

  School would be out at the end of the week. The thought of summer frightened Elly. What would she do? How would it be not to have Kathy?

  “Hang around,” she answered.

  “Me, too,” Kenny confessed. “Dad’s talking about a vacation to Disney World.” He rolled his eyes. “Can you imagine two weeks in a car with my bratty brothers and my dad grumbling all the way?”

  A lump rose in Elly’s throat. “I wish I could.”

  Kenny’s face reddened. He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I—I’m sorry, Elly. I didn’t think.” He looked like he wanted to bolt.