Megan's Way

by Melissa Foster

  Peter watched the scene unfold in horror and shock. He was unable to speak, pleading with his eyes to Holly, begging for a different outcome, but her look told it all— Megan was gone. He moved silently to Olivia’s side. He and Holly embraced Olivia. They didn’t try to pry her away from Megan’s body. They simply enveloped her, held her tight, and cried with her, each feeling his and her own private pain, their own private loss.

  “Livi, honey, I think she knew,” Holly said. The revelation only made Olivia cry harder. Holly wiped her warm tears, leaving wet streaks across her cheeks. “I think she knew it was her time, honey. She wanted to go this way, with all of us here.”

  Olivia sobbed harder. “No! if she knew she would have said goodbye! She wouldn’t just…just leave me like that! She loves me!”

  “Of course she does, Livi. She does love you, more than anything else in this world,” Peter said through his own tears.

  “She did say goodbye, Livi. Last night was her way of saying goodbye. She left you with us. She knew you would be safe with us here by your side.” Holly took Olivia into her arms and rocked her, sharing her pain, soothing her with love.

  “Why?” Olivia cried. “Why didn’t she want me here then? if she knew she was going to…to…go like this, why didn’t she want me here?”

  “But she did want you here, Olivia. You are here,” Holly said.

  Olivia stood, her hurt turned into anger. “No!” she yelled, viciously eying her mother’s friends. “You guys made her let me come! She said I couldn’t! She said it was her time!” Olivia paced, her thin arms crossed across her heaving chest. “She didn’t even want me here.” Her last words were spoken as if they were meant only for herself to hear.

  Holly knelt beside Megan, her hands steepled. Her tears landed on Megan’s hair and sunk into its depth. She was unable to understand it herself. How could she explain it to Olivia?

  “Oh, baby girl, my sweet baby girl,” Peter said as he put his arms around Olivia. “I am so sorry, Livi, so very sorry.” Olivia fell into Peter’s arms, giving into the sadness that coursed through her body and robbed her of her will to move. Her thoughts blurred together, her limbs hung heavily, and dizziness overtook her. She barely registered the sight of her mother’s Pooh Bear before she blacked out.

  Megan felt as if her heart were being torn into shreds. She hadn’t thought of the immediate effect of her death, just of the months of pain that she would have spared Olivia. Did I do the right thing? Her tears flowed, though when they fell they formed a stream that wound through the sky and disappeared into a cloud, like a long silk scarf twisting and floating in the breeze. She marveled, momentarily lost in the wonder of the stream, and was called back to earth by the sound of Peter’s voice.

  “My god, Holly, look.” He motioned to the stuffed bear. “She did know. She must have known.”

  Holly’s hand instinctively covered her mouth. She looked down at Olivia who hung in Peter’s arms like a rag doll, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Oh, Meggie.”

  Peter laid Olivia on the couch and covered her with the afghan her mother had used just the evening before. Megan’s scent of lavender and coconut remained in the fibers of the fabric and wrenched even more tears from the center of Olivia’s heart. Olivia whimpered like a small child, spent of emotion.

  Holly gave Olivia a Valium in an effort to help her calm down.

  As she drifted off to sleep, thoughts of her mother wound their way around her tormented mind.

  Peter and Holly went outside and covered Megan’s body with a thick blanket.

  “Shouldn’t we call someone?” Peter asked.

  “Yeah.” Holly was still in a state of shock. “I don’t know who we’d call. The morgue? The police?” She knelt next to Megan. “It just doesn’t seem fair that she’s gone. I mean, just yesterday she was here, alive. She didn’t look great, but she didn’t look like she was going to—”

  Peter knelt next to Holly and held her while she sobbed.

  “Why didn’t she tell me, Peter?” Holly’s voice was beset by sadness. “I’m her best friend, and she didn’t even hint to me that this was so close.”

  “There’s a lot about Megan that we will never know, Hol. She must have known. She never brought her bear to our rituals, and yet, we all know what it meant to her. It makes sense that she knew.”

  Holly swallowed hard and tried to stop her tears from flowing, tried to find her voice. She took Peter’s hand in her own and closed her eyes.

  “Oh, Holy one,” she began. “Please embrace Megan and show her the light. She was the tie that bound us, and she is now yours.” Holly’s salty tears landed in her mouth, reminding her of the bittersweet evening before.

  The pain in her heart was more than she could bear. She was drowning in her sorrow, each tear pushed her further into the depths of sadness.

  From her perch just above, Megan watched the scene unfold. She was torn between relief at finally passing on and despair over what was happening to her friends and Olivia. She floated back and forth between them anxiously, watching her friends, watching Olivia asleep on the couch, her heart tearing over their sorrow. She wondered just how long it would take for Olivia to forgive her, to forgive god. Megan’s thoughts drifted to the evening before. She could not remember taking the pills from her pocket and clearly remembered wanting more time with Olivia, even feeling ready and willing to fight for it.

  Olivia had fallen fast asleep on the couch. Holly called Jack, her words almost inaudible through her tears, and Peter made the other necessary calls. Unable to remain idle and still in shock, they straightened Megan’s house from the festivities of the night before in silence. When Peter was in the bathroom, Holly snuck outside. She uncovered Megan’s face to have one last look, lay down behind her, and held her rigid and cold body against her own. She let her tears flow and the words come, without concern of how she sounded, without embarrassment of being seen.

  “Meggie, my love, I am so sorry for everything. I knew, or at least I figured, for so long, but I couldn’t ask you, not once you got sick. It took me thirteen years, but I finally put it all together. I wouldn’t have loved you any less. I wouldn’t have been upset. You didn’t need to bear your secret alone. Why didn’t you know that? Why didn’t you trust me?” Holly quelled the mixture of anger and loss that coursed through her.

  “I love her, Meggie, as I love you. I will be good to her.” Holly took a deep breath, and held back the words that she still wished she could speak, She is mine. In a whisper, she said, “I am sorry, Megan. Thank you for being her mother.” She closed her eyes and wept. Her tears fell from her cheeks to Megan’s face, as if cried from her own still eyes.

  Jack’s deep sorrowful voice pulled Holly back to the present. He fell to his knees behind Holly and embraced her, tears sliding down his own flushed cheeks. Her body was still entwined with Megan’s, and they lay there, the three of them as one. Jack’s breath brought Holly strength, and that strength drifted up through the air and found its way to Megan, breezing through her like a rush of warm wind, lifting her full, thick hair and leaving a trail of heat, like a worn path running through her soul.

  Holly rested her hand on Jack’s arm. Megan flinched in surprise as she felt his heat in her palm, as if Holly’s hand were her own. Jack’s eyes opened wide, he squinted, and then as if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, believe what he felt, he closed them again.

  Olivia awoke to her mother’s friends’ hushed whispers in the kitchen. She looked outside at the afternoon sun, which had risen high in the sky, illuminating the remnants of the bonfire and the empty spot where her mother’s body had been. She rubbed the fresh tears from her eyes and made her way slowly to the French doors. She put her hand flat against the glass and felt the warmth of her mother’s hand against her own, which at first hit her like a bad dream, igniting a feeling of wanting to pull her hand back, as if burned. Not a second later, the feeling turned to one of a blessing. She put her other palm against the door and felt th
e same sensation. Tears flowed down both cheeks, and a sad smile crept across her face, Mama?

  Megan floated just beyond the clouds, her hands outstretched, fingers reaching as if they were each a tiny hand. In the flash of a second, she felt the softness of Olivia’s hands on her own. Just as quickly, it was gone.

  When the heat subsided, Olivia tucked the feeling safely into her secret place, alongside Holly’s accolades and love, and her memories of her mother. She knew her mother was with her now, as she always had been in life.

  Olivia walked into the yard and sat down on the blanket her mother had used the evening before. She picked up her mother’s bear and held it close to her chest. She didn’t try to stop the sadness that brought a rush of tears and pain in her heart. She looked toward the sky and wondered, for a brief second, what happened to her mother’s body, where it was taken, but the thought was erased by the understanding that it didn’t matter where it had gone—she needed her mother alive, with her, not the empty shell that she once had inhabited. She closed her eyes and wondered what would become of her now. Who will she trust? Who will care for her? Who was she now? She felt lost, like a child who strayed at the beach, not knowing which way to turn or where to go next.

  “Olivia, honey, come home with us, and we’ll get a good night’s rest. It will do us all good.” Holly tried, for the fourth time, to get Olivia to go home with her and Jack. She was worried about Olivia, who had been silent for most of the day. She knew how hard it was to lose someone she loved. She knew that all too well—though with her loss, she could still see her loved one, and with Olivia’s, there was a dark abyss.

  Olivia refused to leave the house. She worried that once she left, she might never feel her mother again, or worse, that her mother would think she had deserted her. She knew her thoughts were not rational, but she also knew that she had to stay in her mother’s house. Sure as the sky was up and the ground was down, she needed to be there. Olivia looked at Holly and whispered, “I can’t.”

  Holly turned to Jack, “Why don’t you go, and I’ll stay with Livi tonight, Jack. Okay?”

  Peter piped in, “I’ll stay, too. I’m not ready to leave either.” He winked at Olivia.

  “I have to work tomorrow morning,” Jack said to Holly. “I’ll come by afterward, if you’re sure it’s okay that I go. I’m happy to get my stuff and stay here if you want, sweetie.” He put his arms around Holly and held her tight.

  Olivia watched them—and longed for her mother.

  The evening was quiet. Holly moved through the actions that she had to, cooking dinner and cleaning up. She lit candles, hoping that the familiar scents might comfort Olivia. Every action brought a reminder of the hole in her life left by her best friend. The flicker of the candles reminded her of Megan’s words, When my light goes out, just shoot me. She cried at the thought. The scent in the air reminded Holly of Megan’s energy as she had rushed by her so many times over her lifetime. Lifetime. What did that really mean? Was this her lifetime? Megan’s lifetime seemed so short to Holly. It was like they were little girls hiding in trees and making pacts just last week, and now Megan was gone. gone!

  Peter tried to cheer up Holly and Olivia throughout the evening, not quite sure what else to do with himself. He adored Megan and still felt as though she were nearby. He knew he was just missing her, and he wished for her to be near again. His efforts at normalcy were met with polite smiles that quickly faded into silence. Eventually he honored their feelings of sadness and loss with quiet.

  At about midnight, Olivia broke the silence and said, “Quiet breeds too much thought.” Which made Holly and Peter raise eyebrows and give a little laugh. That was one of Megan’s favorite sayings. She’d liked chattiness and felt as though sharing thoughts was vital to healthy relationships and a fun life. They began sharing their memories of the wonderful things that Megan had done, the way she kept every moment alive and fun.

  Holly shared with Olivia stories of their childhood games and sleepovers, the birthday parties they had crashed, and the boys they had had crushes on. Oh the boys! She spoke happily of their college days, how she and Megan had been roommates and Jack had attended a school nearby, and of their weekly gatherings at the Women’s nest. Her face softened as she spoke of those get-togethers, and she remembered the ease with which they would fall into conversations and pour over their lives and eventually their books.

  Peter relayed his memories of how he had adored Megan when they first met and followed her around like a puppy, enthralled with the way she looked at life as an exciting adventure, one not to be missed. He told of his admiration for her lack of needing a man in her life, and how strong she was in the face of trials and life’s harder side.

  Olivia cried, mostly. She cried as she laughed at their stories and as she told her own. She told them how much she already felt the void in her heart, how she wished she could be held by her mother one more time. As she spoke, the candles flickered, as if there were a breeze, and the smell of lavender and coconut instantly became more aromatic. Olivia’s face lit up, and with a little laugh, she stood and stretched her arms out to her sides, closed her eyes.

  “Do you smell her?” she whispered to them. “She is here! She didn’t really leave me. She is here!” She twirled herself around, and sure as sugar, Holly and Peter smelled her, too.

  The two of them got up and sniffed the air, nodded, as if confirmation were necessary.

  Olivia reached her arms up toward the ceiling, “I love you, Mom!” she yelled.

  Megan knelt beside Olivia who was asleep on the couch. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.” even as she spoke the words, she knew she was, in fact, fading. She could sense it. It was as if the little emotional energy she had was somehow lifting away from her. With no understanding of why she had been allowed to remain on the outskirts of life, she was thankful. She could only imagine that it was her own doing, that she had willed herself to stay, unable to pass through and fully let go of her life on earth. Olivia’s well being plagued her, and the struggle to remain around her was one she was willing to fight for.

  Olivia woke with a start. Her dream had seemed so real. She looked around the room and felt as though she could reach out and touch her mother. She looked at Holly and Peter, fast asleep in the recliner and the chaise lounge.

  “Mom?” Olivia whispered. There was no answer. “Mom?” she said again, then held her breath, waiting, hoping for an answer she knew she would not hear.

  Olivia tucked her mother’s bear under her right arm and headed upstairs toward her bedroom. At the top of the landing, she stopped, drawn toward her mother’s room instead of her own. She took in the rumpled bedspread. Why make sure it’s perfect? Her mother always said, It’s just going to get wrinkly anyway. Olivia smiled at the memory. She walked slowly into the room, feeling as though she were entering forbidden territory, and not sure why she suddenly felt as though her mother’s room, the room she had slept in, wept in, and played in, felt unexpectedly unfamiliar and off limits.

  She put a dab of her mother’s lavender and coconut moisturizing lotion on the inside of each wrist and breathed it in. She walked to the bed and lay down slowly. The floral smell of her mother’s hair conditioner still remained on her pillow and comforter.

  After fifteen minutes or so, restless and unable to fall asleep, she moved to the window seat and picked up the vase she had made her mother when she was a little girl. She rolled it around in her hand and the hidden pills spilled out onto the seat and tumbled to the floor like hail from the sky, little reminders of her mother’s pain left behind.

  Olivia’s heart beat faster in her chest. Her breathing grew louder. Her sadness turned to anger, as she remembered that her mother had chosen not to take the pills and to let herself die. She threw the vase across the room and yelled, “God damn it, Mom! Why didn’t you take these!” She kicked at the pills and swiped the remaining ones off of the seat with a quick slash of her hand. They flew through the air
like unwanted trash.

  Olivia ravaged her mother’s room, driven by anger that hurt to her core. She pulled open her mother’s drawers and looked…for what? For a note? For something that might give Olivia a hint of information, anything that she might have left behind? She threw the underwear and socks on the floor, carelessly trampled them as she hastily made her way to the bedside table and ripped open the drawer. She grabbed her mother’s journal and tried to read, but was too upset to focus. Her tears made it impossible to see the writing clearly. She threw the leather-bound journal against the wall.

  Megan tried to break through to Olivia as she felt, more than saw, her daughter’s heart blackening with grief. She reached for her, mentally and physically, but was blocked by her daughter’s anger. Oh, Livi, please let me in! She was forced to watch her daughter’s pain eating her from the inside out. Megan was helpless and cried a stream so thick it formed a river.

  Olivia came out of the closet holding her mother’s small mahogany chest in her shaking hands. She’d seen the box many times before. It held her mother’s most cherished possessions. She and her mother had gone through the box many times throughout the years. She was enamored with the box itself, and it had brought fresh delight each time her mother had brought it down for her to enjoy. Megan would draw out each item very slowly, making Olivia wait what seemed like an hour for the big reveal. Olivia’s eyes would grow as big as hard boiled eggs with anticipation. Megan explained the significance of each item, and wove stories so grand that Olivia felt as though she were listening to a fairy tale.