Same Old Song

by Brenda Dorantes

  "What was his name?" Elizabeth asked.

  Katherine answered without hesitation.

  "Charlie. His name was Charlie." I found it amazing how she could say his name with no pain in her voice but with gratitude, with all the love she had. Why can't I say his name? Why can't I think about it without finding it so hard to breathe? She stood up, taking both their hands. "Now, you're both done reading so why don't you go get ready for bed."

  The kids nod and walk to their rooms, leaving a heavy silence in the room.

  I hate that voice in my head that tells me that my guilt is the one that has brought me to this point. My guilt, my pain and my hate lead me to the point where I couldn't stand the sound of his name and all because I was the cause of it. Katherine walked up to me and asked me if I was okay, I told her I'm fine and if she had what she needed. She said yes and asked me if I wanted to wait outside. I said yes and we both walked to our room. She took the small grocery bag and walked in the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

  I sat there waiting for what seemed like an eternity in silence. I remember all the other times I've been in this situation, the first one I wasn't really aware of until she told me when I was at work; the second I was the one who noticed the changes; I'm not very happy about how I knew about the third and then there's this one. It's like being afraid all over again and I'm not even sure if she wants another child. From the start it has always been two children, but now? She's happy with these two little demons we have. She's thirty-five and I'm thirty-six, another child?

  In my opinion, I didn't think I would want another baby after Tate. Would they want a baby brother or sister?

  "Daddy?" I look at the door where Elizabeth stood wearing her PJs. "Can you tuck me in bed?"

  I nodded and walked her to her room. She jumped on her bed, bouncing a couple of times until I kneeled next to her and I pulled her pink blankets over her legs until something under her pillow caught my attention.

  "What is this?" I asked.

  "Nothing!" She almost yelled, her eyes wide with fear.

  I gave her a look and took out whatever she was hiding. My heart stops. I want to drop it, get it away from me as fast as possible, but I can't. It's a picture I haven't seen in a long time. Six years without seeing a single picture of him and after everything, here it is. He's sitting on the couch with eight-month-old Elizabeth next to him. He's smiling, a big smile that made his cheeks pop and his glasses pushed up his nose. He had his small chubby arm around Elizabeth and his legs were spread out.

  I could feel the ache behind my eyes and my throat began to get caught up in knots. I look at Elizabeth who is looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

  "Where... Where did you get this picture?" I asked her with a shaky voice.

  "I found it inside one of the boxes Mommy keeps in the cellar," she said. "We don't have any in the house and I wanted to see what he looked like." She paused. "Is that him, Daddy?"

  I look down at the picture in my hands. I can't hide it from her, as much as I want to lie and say it isn't, I can't. Not from my little girl.

  "That's him."

  "Why don't you talk about him, Daddy?"

  My first instinct is to tell her that I wanted to wait for her when she's older and able to understand, but that's not the real reason. I can't lie to my little girl.

  "It's hard for me, sweetie." I lay her down and kissed her forehead. I sat next to her bed and caress her hair. "I made very bad choices, Elizabeth, and I hurt your mother a lot after your brother died. I went on living every day thinking that it was my fault that he was gone and Mommy missed him because I was the one in charge of him when it happened. It took me so long to realize it wasn't."

  And it's still a constant struggle. A constant tug and pull between my guilt and my need to be set free from the pain. It's waging war I fight every single day.

  "Elizabeth, if there's one thing I can teach you is that pain is part of being human. Guilt is part of being human and they're hard to live with. After your brother, I thought it was my fault that he was gone. That because of me, he wouldn't have a childhood and grow up to become a man. There are times where I still think of it that way, but then I realize that unfortunately things like this happen in real life. All that time before, I lived in a fairy tale. I thought I was at the top of the world and that nothing could take it away. I was so caught up living a perfect life, that nothing prepared me for the real world. That's when it happened and I was forced to face a life without him… and I thought I couldn't do it.

  "With him, I was able to see how wonderful life could be, and with your mother, I've been able to see how this life can still be livable and beautiful without him." I smooth her hair.

  "Do you miss him?" She asked.

  "I do." Every fucking day. I kiss her forehead one more time and pull the hair from her face and smile, "I hope you love it."

  "Love what?"

  "What life can give you." I kiss her one more time. "Go to sleep."

  She took the picture from my hand, kissed it and placed it next to her lamp. I tucked her in, gave her one more kiss and waited until she was fully asleep to exit her room. When I walked out, Katherine stood next to the door crying but it wasn't a sad cry, she had that sweet smile on her face. She took my face between her hands and kissed me passionately to the point we both needed to breathe.

  "You heard?" I asked when she pulled away.

  "I did. I'm very proud of you," she choked out.

  I looked down at her hand that held the pregnancy test. Positive. We're having another baby. I smile at the pregnancy test and at my wife.

  "We're going to be parents again," I said. She nodded with a wide smile on her face. "There's just one thing I want to do." We were going to be parents again, but not until I did something first.

  Before she had the time to ask, I guided her to our cellar that's filled with boxes and boxes of old things that we didn't want. Except for the pile in the far corner. I opened one of the boxes and I found all of his toys and clothes inside. The box next to it held all of his pictures. Every single one of them. How could Katherine go through this without breaking down?

  I took the one where he's standing alone in our front yard smiling, wearing the pilot's hat we bought him. That was weeks before the accident. Just weeks before everything changed. The last picture we took of him. My son. I felt that tight squeeze in my chest at the simple thought of how much I missed him. How much I wished he was here.

  "Do you… do you think he'll forgive me?" I asked quietly. "Can you? Because I am-I'm so sorry, Katherine. I can't-I left you alone in this. I left you to pack his-his things and leave them here as if they meant nothing… everything we ever had of him. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

  Katherine shook her head and cupped my cheek in her head, mouthing no over and over again. She reached in her blouse and pulled out a golden necklace and held the golden rose between her fingers. The same necklace we gave her for Valentine's day.

  "I've been keeping a part of him close to me, for the two of us."

  I cried, holding Katherine against me and held the picture in a tight grasp. I cried like I did that night. I had to remind myself that it was okay to cry. Katherine smoothed my hair and kissed my temple as I continued to cry.

  "I miss him," I sobbed against her shoulder. "God, I miss him."

  Katherine pressed my face against hers and she nodded at my words. She cried with me. "I miss him, too. I miss him so much."

  I thought my wife was way stronger than me, that she'd gotten over it and faced it with gratitude. I was wrong. We're just as human and as much as it affected me, it affected her. We were hurt, we loved him and we both lost him, but yet, we both missed him so much. It was okay to cry as long as we had each other.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Aidan

  One Year Later...

  I stare down at the letter I held. The white envelope stared right back. It's been a really long time since I last heard from Mr. Garner, a ver
y long time. I'm not sure if I should open it, something inside me tells me to do so but the other side says to just let it go when I don't know what's inside.

  Katherine walked in with my cup of coffee and looked down at the envelope in my hands.

  "What is that?" She asked, placing the cup down in front of me. Her hands draw down my shoulders from behind to my chest until her chin rests on my right shoulder.

  "A letter from Mr. Garner," I said.

  "Mr. Garner? Hm, we haven't heard from them in such a long time. What does it say?"

  I shrugged, my eyes locked on the white envelope. "I don't know," I whispered.

  "Do you want to know?" She asked. I shrugged again. "Shall I read it first?"

  I considered the idea. If it's something important, she'll certainly tell me. I handed her the letter. She let's go of me and opens the envelope. I watch her carefully as she reads the letter while walking around the room. Her brown eyes widened and her breathing became a little faster. After she finished, she put the letter down and smiled at me. A wide smile and her chest grew bigger as she took a deep breath, exactly how it happened when she's excited.

  With an exhale, she looked back at the letter and began to read it out loud.

  "Dear, Aidan Tate Callahan." The tone of her voice was so filled with pride that it made me smile. "As part of the music council at Washington State University, I would like to inform you that the Annual Orchestra Foundation has asked for us to contact you and ask you to give a special performance this summer along with our graduate class for the special cause. It would be an honor that after seventeen years since your last performance here, you come back. These students are just like you, people who inspire greatness in life and greatness you have achieved. It's been a long time, Mr. Callahan, but I assure you it will be worth it. Not only for the students but for you. I hope to hear from you soon and that you consider the offer. Sincerely, Mr. Garner."

  They want me to play again? Again? After almost seven years without playing in a stadium, they want me back for one last performance? Should I? Can I do it? I don't think so, it's been a really long time.

  Katherine walks up to me and turns me around in my seat to face her. I could see the glow of excitement in her eyes. She may think it's a good idea, but I'm not entirely sure. I'm not as good as I used to be when I was younger. That was a long time ago, I was a different person.

  "What do you think?" She asked.

  "That after seventeen years, you would think that old man Garner would be dead or at least learned about email." We both laughed. It's a short laugh, but I like to see her smile. "What do you think?"

  She shook her head and sighed. I push myself back in my seat and allow her to climb on my lap. Her hands cupping the back of my head the way I love so much.

  "It doesn't matter what I think, Aidan. It's what you want. Either way, music has always been part of our lives. If you do this performance, it's going to be about you. Not me, not our children, or those students. It's time to stop pleasing other people and think about what you want."

  But what exactly do I want? Would she be okay if I turn this opportunity down because all I want is to keep refuge in my safe haven? A loud cry came from the monitor I have in my office, followed by the yelling of Lizzie and Tate calling us to go check on the baby. Katherine climbs off my lap after giving me a kiss.

  "I have to go check on Lewis." She walks out of the office, almost skipping to our son's room where he continued to cry.

  I smile to myself when I hear her enter his room from the monitor. She calmed him down with that sweet voice of hers. I could hear the faint kisses she gave him and then I heard her sing the lullaby. I could hear the kids playing outside in the front yard, having their own fun.

  After moments of silence in my office I have come to the conclusion that I need some time to myself to think things through. I can't decide off the top of my head, I can't say yes and not mean it, and I certainly can't say no and not mean it. I get up from my seat and take my car keys. When I walk in the living room, Katherine is lying three-month-old Lewis in his crib.

  "I'm going for a ride, I'll be back soon," I tell her and walked out of the house before she had the chance to respond.

  I drove down the endless road with no destination in mind. I drove with all the windows down and the air rushing in. It was déjà vu of the time years ago when we left the restaurant and Alex, the girls and Kathy were all yelling from the windows. Or the time I pushed her in the shopping cart and accidentally dropped her.

  Those are happy memories.

  All those days we all spent as crazy teenagers about to become adults. Like the time we all ate KFC in our dorm and eventually fell asleep from exhaustion. The party after the graduation where I officially kissed Kathy for the first time. Those were the days where I took life easily, but those weren't the only happy moments in my life.

  The Annual Orchestra Foundation was, in fact, one of the best things that has ever happened to me. The place where I got the chance I always dreamed of. The sensation of the music, the feeling of accomplishment I had when the crowd erupted the moment the song ended. The excitement of what was to come after Mr. Harper told me he wanted to help me make a name for myself. Grow.

  As I drove down the roads, I came to realize something. All those moments are the ones who shaped me into who I was before the accident. The mistakes I made, the accomplishments, everything sent me off wanting to be a better man and father for my children… until I wasn't.

  I unnamed him. I chose to forget after the accident. Every picture, every toy, every memory I had about him, I threw out and for a very long time, I ignored his memory. I decided to forget he ever existed in hopes of having a bearable existence and when I did that, everything else went down hill. I held on to the memory of his death, not all the good things I had to hold onto instead and by doing that my marriage almost ended. I gave up on my family and my job.

  That was what Moore wanted me to do. He wanted me to stop trying to forget and face the fact and not to remember my son as the cause that I killed him when I didn't. By realizing this, I could have the opportunity of thinking about him without regret or sadness but with joy and love. With gratitude just like Katherine does. To think more about the privilege it was to have him in my arms even if it was for a short amount of time than having to bury him.

  My pain wasn't going to go away, it will always hurt not to have him here and watch him grow with his siblings, but there's always a way to manage to live with pain and still be happy. Pain is a memory. It will be part of his memory.

  I always wanted him to see me perform one day. I wanted my children to see what their father became and what they could be if they were passionate enough to chase after it. I always wanted to be an example for them, be the reason why they want something in life. I will perform and not only on stage but for them for the rest of my life. Be the example I wanted to be for him. For Charlie.

  I got home around seven in the afternoon and from the driveway, I saw my little family through the living room window. Lizzie was holding Lewis while Katherine sat with Tate and tied his soccer shoes, getting him ready for practice. They were all gathered together, chatting and laughing in a teasing manner. Lizzie likes to make fun of the funny way her brother has to run while Katherine assures him she finds it cute.

  "Daddy!" Lizzie greeted me when I walked in.

  Katherine looked at me and scrunched her eyebrows together. She always had the ability to tell when something was going on.

  "Is everything okay?"

  I ignored her question and looked at our children. "Kids, how about you pick your best outfits?" They all looked at me as if I just grew a second head. I smiled. "I need you guys wearing your best for the event."

  "Why?" Tate asked. "What event?"

  Katherine got it. She knew what I meant when I said this. She smiled and looked down at our children.

  "Kids," she said, "we're going to Chicago. Daddy is going to the Annual Orchestra Founda
tion."

  * * *

  The hallway that leads to the backstage room is just like I remembered it. Once again, it was déjà vu but this time instead of my mother walking me down here, it was my wife and three children. The rest of my family were already taking their seats.

  We stopped at the door and Katherine turned me to face her. Her hair is down in waves over her shoulders and the dress is lacy black. She smiles at me as she shifts Lewis's weight on one arm. She brought her thumb to my mouth and softly cleaned the edge of my lips.

  "Your face is dirty," she whispered as she wiped both edges of my lips and pulled my hair away from my forehead. She checked my glasses and nodded. "There, that's much better." She took my cheek in her hand and softly placed a kiss on my lips. "You're going to be okay."

  "I know." I kissed each of my kid's head and walked inside the backstage room.

  I couldn't believe how everything didn't change. The students running around, nervous and double-checking their sheets, making sure everything came out perfect. The atmosphere was heavy with excitement. Perhaps a few things did change, like the instruments, the placements, the people, but the overall feel was the same. Just moments after I walked in, everyone headed to the stage and got started with the show, leaving me alone with all the memories.

  I walked to the lonely piano on the other side of the room. My fingers hover over the keys, playing some every once in awhile. The familiarity was incredible, it was like saying hello to an old friend. I studied the old wood, running my hands up and down the frame, enjoying the feel against my skin. That tickling sensation that ran through my fingers down to my wrists was back, my back arched again. Just like it did back when I was twenty-one.

  For the next two hours, I sat there, playing music. It didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel odd. It felt right. It was perfect. I loved the sensation on my hands, in my chest and in my mind. I couldn't believe how much I've missed this. So much. I was lost in the music, lost in the sensations. I was back in my own little world. I played and played until I heard the announcer put a finish to the students’ show and introduce me in a couple of minutes.