When Glass Shatters

by J. P. Grider

  ***

  Mimi arrived by noon that day, which surprisingly, relieved a lot of the tension Lorraine carried until then. But now, the next challenge needed to be met—identifying the bodies. The same officer that came to the door last night visited right after Lorraine’s grandmother showed up with a small suitcase and a huge hug for her oldest grandchild. “Hello, Officer, I’m Corrinne Blanchett. Tatum Mattina’s mother. Excuse me, Tatum Mack.” Mimi shook the officer’s hand.

  “Ma’am, I’m so sorry about your daughter, as I explained to—” the officer looked at Lorraine, then continued, “your granddaughter?” he asked, unsure of the relationship. “Richard and Tatum Mack were in a car crash on Route Eighty late last night. An eighteen wheeler was involved. I’m sorry, they didn’t make it.”

  Mimi nodded. “Yes, my granddaughter told me.” Mimi’s bottom lip quivered, but she remained composed. “You need someone to identify the bodies she said?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. If you can come down,” the officer hesitated, but Mimi jumped right in.

  “Of course. I will come. Can I follow you, I’m not sure of the way?”

  “Sure. We can bring you if you’d like.” Only then did Lorraine notice that there was a second officer standing a few feet behind the first. Was he there last night? She couldn’t even remember.

  Mimi turned to Lorraine and said, “Rainy. I’ll be back. Let me do this. You take care of the children, okay?”

  Lorraine was more than happy to abide. “Thank you, Mimi,” she said, before plopping herself back onto the couch, where Norah took her hand. “I’m sorry about your dad,” Lorraine said.

  “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  They sat there in silence, their heads resting on each other, until Carter finally came out of his room. Lorraine jumped up. “Carter.” She moved to hug him, but he shoved her away and said, “I’m hungry.”

  “Sure. I’ll make you some lunch, or breakfast, or whatever.” Lorraine got up and searched the kitchen for something comforting to make, before she remembered—she can’t cook. She never had. Her mother always did the cooking, and now Lorraine felt so inadequate, because she’d never even learned to make a grilled cheese sandwich or a scrambled egg. In the cabinet was a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. She could make that; that was her go-to snack when her mom had a late meeting at school and Lorraine got hungry. Lorraine never thought about how fortunate she was to have a mother who had school hours and summers off—a mother who was pretty much at her children’s beck and call whenever they’d needed her. Not that Lorraine or Carter took advantage of her, but their mother was always there when she was needed. For everything. Who would relight the flame beneath the water-heater? Who would change the batteries in the smoke alarms? When did they even need to be changed? What grade was Carter in? Oh my goodness, who would help him with Algebra? Or Chemistry? Carter was smart. Lorraine, not so much. She went to community college because she couldn’t get into other schools. Her Auditory Processing Disorder kept her from doing well. Her grades were pretty much below average, except for gym class, where she was able to pull an A. So, she was going to community college to get her Associate’s Degree in Exercise Science, where hopefully, she’d pull good enough grades to transfer to a four-year school to get her Teacher Education and Physical Education Degree. But who paid for college? Did her mother? Did her mother need to take out a loan to pay for school? She didn’t even know. With the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese box in her hand, Lorraine sat down on the nearest chair and cried. Where was her mother? Who was going to take care of everything? Lorraine was frightened. More frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Come to think of it, except for her father dying in front of her—and one other devastating moment she chose not to think about right now—Lorraine had never been frightened in her life—her mother must have gotten to her children's fears before they even knew they were supposed to be afraid.

  “Rain?” Carter was standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Lorraine looked up at him and smiled and held up the box of Kraft. “This is all I know how to make, Car.” She shook her head and tucked in her lips, her tongue tasting the salt from her dripping tears. “This is all I know how to make,” she repeated.

  Carter stared at her a few seconds. Lorraine saw his eyes tear up, but then Carter side-fisted the door jam and turned and left. The front door slammed soon after.

  That’s when Norah came into the kitchen. “What happened?”

  Still holding that Kraft box, “This is all I know how to make, Norah? This is it.”

  Norah’s shoulders dropped, and she sighed. “It’s okay, Rainy. We’ll figure it out.” Lorraine kicked out the chair in front of her, and Norah sat. Patting her big sister’s knee, Norah said, “Rain? We’ll figure it all out, right? You and me?”

  Lorraine smiled through her tears and nodded, saying, “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.”

  Norah took the box from Lorraine, got up, and said, “Will you show me how to make it, so then we’ll both know?”

  And so, together, they made a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. But they didn’t eat it; they covered it and put it aside for Carter. “So, would you like me to make you a cup of tea, Norah? I know how to make that, too.” Lorraine was more grateful than she’d ever been to have Norah as her sister. Norah said she knew how to boil water too, and she’d be happy to have a cup of hot chocolate while Lorraine had her tea. Lorraine dumped some cocoa in one mug, a tea bag in another, and they both sat and watched the tea kettle until it started to whistle.

  Lorraine and Norah didn’t know what to talk about, since small talk seemed inappropriate, and the big stuff seemed too heavy, so they drank their hot beverages in silence, both of them focused on what would become of their family.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mimi returned to the house red-eyed and sad, dashing Lorraine’s very tiny hope that her mother was still alive. “I’m sorry, girls,” she said when she saw them at the kitchen table. “I’m so sorry.”

  Norah got up and made Mimi a cup of tea and then the three of them solemnly mourned over their mugs filled with hot comfort. Mimi explained to them what to expect over the next few days. She’d take care of the funeral arrangements and go through paperwork to find Brick’s and Tatum’s Wills—hopefully, they each had one. And Mimi would call the lawyer, or find one to use if they didn’t. All she wanted the kids to do was process the deaths of their parents. Lorraine was once again grateful today, and that made her laugh. How could she be grateful for anything, when her mother just passed away?

  “So, where’s Carter?” Mimi asked, when she finally realized she hadn’t seen him.

  “He ran out right after you left. I think he doesn’t know how to feel. Or how to,” Lorraine shrugged, “act. I don’t know what to do for him.”

  “He needs time to accept this.” Mimi patted Lorraine’s hand. “He’ll be okay. Give him time. And you two,” she nodded to both Lorraine and Norah, “need time as well. Let yourselves cry it out. Don’t think you have to be strong through this. It’s important to cry.” She patted Lorraine’s hand again. “Both of you, go take a nap. I’m sure you barely slept last night.”

  “No. Not well.”

  “Go. Get on,” Mimi insisted. “I’ll look through the kitchen; see if I can’t throw something together for dinner.”

  Norah thanked Mimi and went up to her room. Lorraine kissed her grandmother’s delicate cheek. “Thanks, Mimi.” As Lorraine turned to walk out, she stopped. “Is Grandpa coming up?”

  “Yes. He’s flying in after he gets some things in order.”

  Lorraine nodded and went to her room, where she fell asleep pretty much right away. But she didn’t sleep peacefully. She had no arms. And she was floating, trying to reach the boy, but she couldn’t. And she was unable to get her feet to stay firmly on the ground. And unable to grab the boy, because she had no arms. Was she in space? Was she on Earth? As much as she tried to reach him in the black room, she couldn’t. She screa
med for help, but no one heard. Where were her arms? If she had arms, she could take hold of him. Save him.

  Lorraine woke from her nightmare to the sound of a loud engine beneath her bedroom window. As she got up, her foot stuck in the tucked-in sheet and she tumbled off the bed face first, her nose touching ground while her arms were somehow caught behind her, wrapped up in the comforter. How in the world? And then, OUCH. When she brought her hand to her nose, she felt slime. Red slime to be exact, because when she took her hand away, it was covered in blood. Great. Thank you very much, you loud-engine-car driving person. Lorraine got herself to her feet, found the box of tissues on her dresser, and went to the window, a load of Kleenex jammed up against her face. A white Harley Davidson sat in the driveway. A motorcycle? She didn’t know anyone who owned one.

  After she exchanged her bloody tissues for a few new ones, Lorraine headed downstairs and saw Mimi standing at the opened front door, a deep voice rumbling from its other side. “Noah, right? Come in.”

  When Lorraine heard his name, she stopped mid-staircase. Noah was here? Lorraine gripped the handrail, using her hand that held the tissues, forgetting that her nose was probably still dripping with blood. “Honey, I'm so sorry about your father,” Mimi said as she pulled Noah in for a hug. Noah patted her back and separated himself right away.

  “Where’s Norah?” His voice was strained, like he was trying to either keep from crying or keep from sounding irritated. Lorraine couldn't decide.

  “She's napping. Can I make you a cup of coffee or something? A piece of cake? I just made—” Mimi stopped talking, because Noah wasn't paying attention to her. He was looking over her shoulder at Lorraine. Mimi followed his gaze and gasped. “Lorraine! What did you do?”

  Lorraine’s tissue-filled hand flew back to her face. “I fell out of bed,” she mumbled into the tissues.

  As Mimi said, “Oh, Rainy, come on, let's go get you cleaned up,” Noah snickered, causing Lorraine to flush. “Come on,” Mimi repeated.

  With as much dignity as she could reclaim, Lorraine glided down the steps, hoping Noah would stop staring and wipe the smirk off his face. So, she had a bloody nose. Didn't wrestlers get bloody noses? It can't be the first time he's seen one. Lorraine swept past him, finally taking her eyes off him, and followed her grandmother into the kitchen.

  “Come on, child,” Mimi said, making Lorraine feel even more ridiculous. “Here's a wet cloth. Clean up your face, and I’ll get you an ice pack.” Mimi kept talking—about hoping her nose wasn't broken, and praying her eyes didn't sport two huge black-and-blues—but Lorraine found that her attention was once again on Noah. Come on, Rainy, he's a jerk. He laughed at your bloody face. As she dabbed at her face, she flinched. There probably would be two black eyes, but Lorraine couldn't think about that right now; it was trivial compared to everything else going on.

  “So, Noah,” Mimi said, placing a mug of coffee in front of him after tending to Lorraine. “Was the drive up okay? You go to Duke, right?”

  Noah nodded. “Yeah.” And Lorraine realized they barely knew him, and he, them. Had Brick told Noah anything about Tatum’s family? Brick talked about Noah’s accomplishments—two-time New Jersey State Champion in high school, Valedictorian for his high school class in 2014, National Champion his Freshman year at Duke, 4.0 GPA, or higher, or whatever, because Lorraine could never keep track—but he never spoke of anything beyond Noah’s scholastic accomplishments. Even Norah hardly talked about him. Was he kind? Was he popular? Lorraine assumed he was, since he was both an athlete and a scholar. Was he shy? Or angry? Was he carefree or did he get uptight about things? Who was Noah Mack behind the All-American? Lorraine felt she needed to know.

  And with him sitting right here in front of her, she had this overwhelming urge to find out a lot more than what she probably ought to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Noah drank his coffee anxiously. Where the hell was Norah? He didn't know these people, and making small-talk was painful. For all he’d accomplished in his nineteen years, Noah was still uncomfortable talking with people. He was quiet. A loner. Some called him an introvert, but he disagreed. There was nothing shy about him; he just hated socializing. And the word introvert made it sound like he was introspective, which couldn't be further from the truth. For Noah, stuff was just stuff. There was no deeper meaning to life, and everything did not happen for a reason. What possible reason could there be for his mother dying of cervical cancer when she was only thirty-six years old? No. For Noah, life was what it was, and he didn’t overthink it. He did what was expected of him, he enjoyed wrestling, and he did well in school, because, for some reason, his brain found nothing a challenge. Noah wasn’t what anyone would call a happy person, but he was fine with that. Happiness was overrated.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Lorraine said after some time. Her nose had stopped bleeding, and she was now holding an icepack to it. “And I’m sorry you had to hear it the way you did.” Her voice was on the high-pitched side, like a girl who hadn’t reached puberty yet. Noah kind of liked it.

  “Yeah. It’s fine.” With his foot, Noah was tapping the floor, repeatedly, beneath the table, and now he found his finger doing the same thing against the coffee mug. When the hell was Norah going to wake up?

  “Noah,” the grandmother said. “I know I asked you this already, but are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I made a cake. It’s warm. I have pot roast simmering on the stove, but it won’t be ready for another hour.”

  “No. I’m good. When do you think Norah is going to wake up? I really wanted to be able to talk with her.”

  “I’ll go check,” Lorraine said, putting down her ice pack.

  “If you tell me where her bedroom is, I can check on her myself.” Noah was annoyed; he was sure they noticed the irritation in his voice, but he didn’t care. Norah was his sister, and he had more right than any of them to go check on her.

  “Okay. I’ll show you.”

  Noah got up and followed Lorraine.

  Norah was snoring when Noah opened the door to her bedroom, so he sat on the purple corduroy chair next to the window and watched her. She didn’t even look like Norah anymore. How could a year change someone so much? She didn’t look like a little girl anymore. She was a teenager. Well, soon, anyway. But she looked more like the teenager she was becoming, then the little girl Noah had last seen. When was the last time he saw Norah? That’s right. The wedding. More like the wedding weekend, because Noah never showed up at the wedding. The last thing he’d wanted to do was watch his father marry Tatum. Instead, he took off with his then on-again off-again girlfriend Sofia. It had not even been four years then since his mother died. After two, his father was already dating Tatum. It’s not that Tatum was a bitch or anything. On the contrary, she’d always been sweet to Noah—well, the few times they’d come in contact with each other. Even when Noah walked out in the middle of a Sunday dinner that Tatum went to the trouble of preparing, and before he did, he’d slammed his fist so hard on the table that his soup and his sister’s soup went flying. On his way out the door, he’d heard Tatum stop his father from going after Noah. Her words, specifically, were, “No, Brick. He’s hurting. Give him time to warm up to me. He’ll be okay.” Noah’s been sitting on those words all this time. Would he warm up to her? He’d never know now. Would he be okay? He still had no idea.

  Noah’s eyes were closed when a soft young voice broke through his thoughts. He immediately thought it was Lorraine again, but when he opened his eyes, Norah was scooting to the edge of the bed. “Noah. You’re here?” she said in question, as she got off the bed to hug him.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Noah responded in monotone, but embraced her with a hug as intense as hers. He missed his sister. He should have kept in contact with her more often, but calling her reminded him too much of what he didn’t have anymore—his mother. And that was something Noah wasn’t quite able to get over yet. Unlike his father, Noah was not able to get over the death of Keri Mack
. Even if it had been well over four years now since she’d died.

  Norah pulled away and sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m so glad you’re here, Noah. I’m so scared. Lorraine says everything will be okay, but—” Norah trailed off.

  It’ll be okay. Where had he heard that before? Lorraine must have learned from her mother. Everything will not be okay. They had no parents now. Noah was an adult, he could take care of himself, but Norah was now an orphan. Who would be her guardian? Would he have to care of her? What did that mean in regards to his studies? To wrestling? Why was he even thinking like this? He wasn’t a thinker. Not when it came to situations. His parents took care of those things—his mom until she died, his dad ever since. Noah just took care of Noah. Always had. Now did he have to take care of Norah, too?

  “Noah,” his sister said softly. “Will everything be okay? Is Lorraine right?”

  Her eyes were wide and questioning. How did he answer that? “I guess,” was all he could think of. He shook his head and sighed. “You wanna go get a bite?”

  Norah shrugged, and a frown took over her face. He could tell she’d wanted him to confirm Lorraine’s sentiment that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He knew all too well that it wouldn’t. Her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t fathom, and he didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “How ‘bout it, kid? Is there a McDonald’s around here?” Noah needed to get out of this house.

  “I think Mimi is making dinner.” The frown stayed on Norah’s face as she took a hair band off her dresser and tied her hair up in a ponytail.

  “So,” he said with a shrug. “Lorraine and her brother can eat it.” Noah stood and headed for the door. “Come with me. You can wear my helmet; I’ll just risk going without one.”