Body of Ash

by Bonnie Wheeler

  Finally taking her seat, Colette placed her napkin on her lap before reaching for Rachel’s hand. The gesture surprised her, but she quickly understood. Closing her eyes, Colette led them in a prayer of thanks.

  When Rachel was little, she used to love saying grace before dinner. It was a custom that was reserved for big family dinners on Sundays or when they had special out of town visitors coming to stay. However, as she got older, meals were seldom shared at home anymore and when they were, conversations were kept at a minimum. Through the absence of visitors, meal time thanks had become a part of the past, like so much else. Holding hands and praying together was something only done at church – when on show.

  As she glanced at the food, she didn’t know where to begin. The smells mingled together, making her mouth water. She hadn’t even noticed the bread basket, until Colette slid it over to her. Selecting a warm bun, Rachel added it to her plate.

  “So, how old are you?” Colette asked, spooning servings of each dish on her plate.

  “Seventeen,” Rachel replied without think. Popping a forkful of pasta in her mouth, she chewed slowly, savoring the taste of mayonnaise and tarragon.

  “And already away at college?” Her voice was soft, but didn’t accuse.

  With her eyes cast down, Rachel continued eating. She didn’t want to keep lying to Colette. It wasn’t right to misuse someone so generous and kind. All she really needed was a way out of being sent to Miss Hall’s. Could Colette help? Could she find someone willing to talk to Angela and Brian on her behalf? The idea began to stir, filling her with “what ifs.” Gaining outside help wasn’t what Rachel had originally wanted when she made the phone call into Colette’s life – but maybe this was her answer.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your church back home,” Colette suggested in between bites.

  Rachel thought for a moment. What could she say really? New Hope was a huge building with a large fellowship hall and attached gymnasium, but it lacked something the small personal building she dined in now had.

  “Well, New Hope Bible Church is evangelical and is in a town much smaller than Torrington. My father is the pastor and he has led the church since I was two.” She thought carefully before continuing, knowing she was about to take a risk. “But, I’m not really sure he will be much longer. My mom and dad have been having a lot of problems and might be getting a divorce. If that happens, I don’t think they would still be considered Christians, especially by our church.”

  Saying the words out loud was liberating. Admitting a truth about her life without trying to cover up how screwed it was never happened. All she did was pretend anymore – being real was a relief. As she studied Colette, Rachel wasn’t sure what kind of response she would get, but somehow she wasn’t afraid of being scorned or disbelieved.

  “You’re worried because you love them,” Colette replied knowingly.

  “I do,” Rachel answered. Of course she loved them. They infuriated her and let her down, but Angela and Brian were her parents and a central part of her life. She was always worried, but felt powerless about it.

  How am I supposed to help them when they don’t even try?

  “They’ll be okay dear, just keep praying for them. We all have a path we need to walk down in life and sometimes there are trials along the way that test us. But God never lets us go too far before he pulls us back to him.”

  Rachel looked at her plate. Poking a grape with her fork, she wondered if that was true. “But, what if you aren’t a real Christian and only think you are? My whole life, I thought I was, but after the last few days, I’m not so sure. I’ve done things I didn’t think I ever would. I’m not sure God would want to forgive me now.” Disobeying her parents, spending the night with Jason, lying to a preacher’s Godly wife, the list kept growing.

  Colette placed her hand over Rachel’s. Her skin was smooth and warm. “You don’t have to be perfect. There is nothing you could do that God won’t forgive. We all sin, we just need to pray and apologize when we do. As far as being a real Christian, there is only one way to know for sure. Are you baptized?”

  Rachel shook her head, “No.”

  She knew what Colette was suggesting. The brochure had quoted Acts 2:38 and the instructions to repent and be baptized. Growing up in the church, Rachel had a basic knowledge of Christian teachings. The only difference between New Hope’s beliefs and the Church of Christ’s was that instead of baptism, the sinner’s prayer guaranteed salvation.

  A part of her longed to be closer to God, when she was little she always felt his comfort when she hurt. But, somehow, as she grew older, she had closed herself off. Maybe she would ask one of the elders at New Hope to heat up the tub for her so she could take the next step. If it meant finding a way out of the doubts and fears her family dwelled in, it would be worth it. But she wanted to read the Gospel first and see what the Bible said. Instead of having her father or Mrs. Bunts tell her what she needed to know, it was time she decided for herself what being a Christian meant.

  “Well, I am going to pray for you and when you’re ready, whether it’s tonight or next year, you can be baptized and you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Colette went back to eating, her smile still genuine and not displaced because of Rachel’s admittance. “Someday when I’m in Heaven, I want you to be there with me.”

  Swallowing her grape, Rachel could feel the tears from earlier beginning to brim again. She wished acceptance and forgiveness could be so easy with her folks. Her parents never offered to pray for her or suggest Rachel’s choices would be honored according to her own timeline rather than theirs.

  The hopelessness was too much to contain. Burying her hands in face, her body began to tremble. A sob rose from deep within her chest. Needing a friend, she allowed the gentle woman at her side to embrace her. She didn’t know how long she cried like that, her face turning hot and wet from the tears, while Colette’s soothing voice murmured softly at her side.

  All of the events from the day, poured through her mind. Leaving Jason, Ernie’s cruel games, being hungry and scared, not knowing where to go, afraid of home. Afraid that if she did go home, nothing would change. Her father would still sleep with Marge Finch and her mother would remain frozen and unwilling to fight – all while Rachel disappeared to Pittsfield.

  As her breathing slowed and her anguish became manageable, Colette placed a box of tissues in front of her. Rachel dabbed one at her eyes, knowing she must look like a mess.

  “I’m good at talking, but I’m a good listener, too,” Colette offered, giving Rachel’s shoulders a light squeeze.

  Nodding her head, Rachel searched for the words, “I need your help Colette.”

  42

  ANGELA

  Friday 6:00 PM

  “From the time you were a little girl, you were spineless. You haven’t changed one bit. The man uses you like a doormat.” Sylvia scowled from the passenger seat. Her tone was harsh, but that was her way. Angela’s mother wasn’t known for sugar coating anything.

  They had spent the last hour driving through town, stopping at the same spots Angela had visited earlier – with the same results. The stores, the school, the diners…Rachel eluded them all; no one had seen her all day.

  Angela shook her head sadly, “I told you Mom, I’m trying the best I can.”

  “It’s not enough Angie. Rachel is out there. You have no idea how hard it is to lose a child and never get the chance to say goodbye. I don’t want you to know what that’s like.”

  “Brian is going out too, we’ll find her.”

  “Yeah right,” she snorted with disgust. Flipping her silver bob, she leveled her eyes at her daughter. “He’s sitting at home drinking, but I don’t care what he does. You need to stop depending on that idiot and learn to stand on your own two feet. You’ve never done that. When you were little you depended on Perry and once he was gone, you fell in with that nurse from Burlington, listening to everything she said instead of learning to think for yoursel
f. If it wasn’t for her, you never would have gotten involved with Brian and joined that church. You would have married better and found someone who appreciates you.”

  “Mom, I wouldn’t have had Rachel without Brian,” Angela said, but her mother didn’t listen. Hoping Sylvia would change the subject, she kept her eyes on the road. As it was, Angela’s nerves rattled like a chain full of keys. She needed Sylvia to lend a sense of calm, but her mother thrived under pressure – the more the better.

  Halloween festivities were in full swing. Children in costumes with loot bags clutched in their fists dotted the sidewalks, making it difficult to search for Rachel amid the cars and groups of pedestrians standing about. The pagan tradition had never been her favorite holiday. Her current situation killed what was left of her tolerance.

  “What was your friend’s name again, Donna? Darla? Is she still involved with that religion of yours?”

  “Debra and I don’t know, we kind of lost touch,” Angela answered.

  Her mother’s argument was an old one. Sylvia always brought up Angela’s ex friend and the memory of how their relationship ended. Early on after Angela and Brian were married, Debra approached her with a concern about Brian’s behavior – accusing him of having come on to her. Stunned with the admission, Angela instantly refused to listen, disbelieving her husband could be guilty of such an accusation. After that, she refused to take Debra’s calls, effectively pushing her away.

  Little did I know.

  “Well, she wasn’t the best friend for you. You spend too much time with people from church, catering to your husband. I don’t know why you had to leave the Congregational Church where you and Perry were christened. It’s more laid back there; people give you the benefit of the doubt when you say you’re a Christian. They don’t call you a sinner.”

  Angela’s head throbbed. Sylvia had a way of finding all of Angela’s insecurities, things she despised about herself, and then masterfully dragged them into every sore conversation the two shared. The truth was, Angela didn’t have a problem with her church or the work she did there. Her issue was with her husband.

  “I’ve been up since yesterday, looking everywhere I possibly can. I don’t know what else you expect me to do,” she said.

  “I don’t expect you to do anything but try. If you don’t bring her home, do you realize what will happen? Do you have any idea what it is like to see your child leave and never return?”

  “No Mom, but you do because of Perry. This is a lot different.”

  “Is it? I could have made him stay, but I didn’t. I didn’t tell him how scared I was that he was going overseas. Your father was so angry at him for enlisting that I said nothing. Instead of speaking up, I tiptoed around your father, worrying about interfering. The next thing I knew, I had those damn soldiers at my door telling me that my son was dead, hit by that roadside bomb.”

  Angela didn’t need Sylvia to give her a play by play of what happened. Losing Perry was the worst loss any of them experienced. Even when her father died from lung cancer a few years past, the shock was nothing in comparison. They grieved, but knew it was coming, making their peace with the knowledge that the old man lived the way he wanted.

  Perry was young and full of life; he wasn’t even old enough to buy a beer. The older Angela became, the more she realized just how little her brother experienced. He would never get married and have a family. Ralph was furious that Perry defied him, refusing to speak of the boy for the longest of time. Angela was the only one who made the trip to Parris Island, South Carolina to witness his graduation from boot camp. If only her parents could have seen Perry standing proud in uniform, but Angela was the only one who could cherish the memory. For that, she understood why Sylvia had her regrets.

  It’s not the same…

  Despite her insistence, she had doubts. Her mother didn’t put up a fight about Perry leaving because she feared Ralph’s anger. Did Angela fail to fight for Rachel because of Brian? Her excuse was that she was putting off a confrontation until she could make a new home for just the two of them, but would she simply have let Rachel go and not fight for her if Brian settled back down and stopped whoring around? As much as she hoped she would have made the right choice, knowing Rachel forced her to wake up by running away wasn’t a comfort either. Her mother was right. She needed to learn to stand on her own without waiting to see what Brian would do.

  Flipping her turn signal on, Angela had an idea. Despite a few short conversations by phone, she hadn’t actually stopped at Jason Thompson’s home. Rachel’s boyfriend insisted that she wasn’t with him and according to the young man’s parents, that was true, but Angela had a hunch the two were in contact. If she could convince Jason of her intentions, she could talk him into passing the news on to Rachel.

  Or better, ask Rachel to hear me out.

  The Thompson’s owned a large home off Clayton Road. Even with only the front lights on, Angela could see that the house had a sprawling front lawn. The exterior of the colonial was quite lovely, the beaded clapboard siding and the attached barn contributed to the original aesthetic of an early American home. Black shudders adorned the windows, creating a striking contrast with the white structure.

  Overall, the house was charming and served to remind Angela how very little she knew of her daughter’s life. If Rachel had been involved with Jason since last year, the two must have spent a great deal of time at the property with his parents. It saddened her to know their time wasn’t spent in her own home. Through Angela’s rigid expectations and the pretense of appearing perfect, she had discouraged Rachel from bringing anyone around in a long time. It was a family pattern she had grown accustomed to, but it was wrong.

  Three people shouldn’t be able to live under one roof and still feel lonely.

  Their rehearsed performance came at a cost. Now as Angela stared at the front entrance of the Thompson residence, it was almost more than she could swallow.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” her mother asked, with hand on the doorknob.

  Angela knew it would be easy to let Sylvia takeover, to just stand at her side while her eloquent mother did all of the talking. But, the older woman was right about one thing. It was time for Angela to gain her independence and take the lead. If she wanted to begin a new life, one worthy of her and Rachel, she needed to stop letting the world happen around her and become a part of it.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to do this on my own.”

  43

  BRIAN

  Friday 6:45 PM

  Bent over the sink, Brian splashed his face with cold water. His stomach rolled from the movement, causing his mouth to produce more saliva with the building nausea. With eyes bloodshot and face pale, he looked almost as shitty as he felt.

  Having rummaged through the refrigerator in an attempt to sober up, the leftover stuffed peppers mixed with his Jack Daniels sat like a god damn molten rock in his sternum. Burping up the taste of garlic and stomach acid, he was tempted to bend over the toilet and gag himself until it all came up, but he refused to relent. He had to get his ass moving out the door and there was no way that was happening if he was still three sheets to the wind.

  Angie and her mother left in the Subaru. The two had been gone for well over an hour. As it was, he insisted he would be leaving just behind her to search for Rachel. But, by the time he worked his way upstairs and sat down on the bed to change his clothes, his head was spinning and he needed to close his eyes for a few minutes. Awakening fifty minutes later to the door bell ringing, he sat up all disoriented with his spit running in pools down his neck.

  He hadn’t sobered up one bit. Eating seemed like the next logical step, until the food hit his digestive system. The heartburn and alcohol combination was enough to knock anyone out – but he couldn’t crawl back under the covers no matter how much he wanted to.

  If I don’t have my ass out of this house, Angie will crucify me.

  As he dragged his toothbrush across
his gums, Brian knew Sylvia would be all too willing to sit back and dictate how Angie did it.

  “Make sure you cut his balls off while you’re at it.”

  It was all too easy imagining the sick pleasure Sylvia would get from watching him squirm. The old bitch never liked him. When her husband, Ralph, was alive, the old man made it clear he couldn’t stand Brian either. How two people so damn stuffy and full of themselves could have a woman like Angela as their daughter was baffling. Unless she was really ticked off, Angie was easygoing and not much for complaining. Even if she was asking the most damn intrusive question possible, Angie would do it with a soft voice.

  Sylvia was hard around the edges. Her stare, her words, even her damn birthday cards were harsh. No matter what he did for her – painting her fence, carrying crap to her attic, running her BMW to the dealership in Danbury, it wasn’t enough. Even before he turned into a shit husband, Sylvia turned her nose up at him. There had been a few occasions, while she bitched and moaned and he pretended to listen, that he whispered a quiet thanks to God for not fixing him up with a woman like that. A woman that would make his adult life almost as bad as his childhood.