Megan's Way

by Melissa Foster

  She ran her finger across the top of the chest and remembered how special she had felt when her mother had shared her secrets. She felt a touch of her anger fade as she lifted the top of the chest in search of those treasured items.

  Instead, Olivia was met with an envelope that read “Olivia Leigh” in her mother’s handwriting. Her hands shook as she turned the envelope over in her hands, afraid of what it might contain and the emotions it might spark. She tucked the letter into her back pocket and cleared off her mother’s bed. She picked up her mother’s bear from the floor where she had cast it away in her fit of rage, hugged it to her chest, and lay down. Her first breath brought her mother’s smell into her lungs. Her seventh breath brought her sleep.

  Olivia was thankful that Holly and Peter had left her alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see them, but she wasn’t sure she was capable of being nice to others. She climbed out of her mother’s bed and walked through the warm sunlight that streaked the floor and into her mother’s bathroom. She put her mother’s favorite foaming bath gel into the tub, turned on the faucet, and lit her mother’s Jasmine candle that sat on a little shelf next to the window. She loved that the wick was half burned already. She loved feeling as though she were close to her mother, following in her mother’s rituals.

  Olivia undressed, and the letter from her mother fell onto the bathroom floor. She stared at it for a moment, filled with both curiosity and a growing anger. She watched as it unfolded slightly, as if it were trying to open itself. She laid it gently on the top of the toilet, closed the door, and lowered herself into the hot bath.

  Her body relaxed as she remembered the ritual of the night before, the way her mother had calmed them all, working her way down their bodies and into their souls. She was happy she had been there. She was proud of her mother and her place in the ritual, the leader. She understood, now, why she had been kept away for so many years. It was a private ceremony. It was not for kids. The thought made her even happier. She was not a child anymore. They had allowed her to be part of the ritual. That must mean that she was growing up. She smiled to herself and let her arm flop over the side of the tub as the steam filled the bathroom and fogged the window and mirror.

  Olivia peeked at the letter several times before finally leaning forward and taking it carefully between her index finger and thumb. She looked it over. The plain envelope and delicate lettering of her name reminded her of her mother’s natural way, her unstructured beauty, and her ease of being. She ran her hand across the front of the envelope, turned it over, and ran her hand along the back, leaving a wet streak all the way across.

  With a heavy sigh, she sat up in the tub, dried her hands on the towel that lay on the floor, and carefully opened the letter. Before reading, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then straightened her back, bracing herself for what lay within.

  My Dearest Olivia,

  I am so sad that you have to receive such a letter from me. I always thought I’d be here to watch you grow into the beautiful, caring woman that you are already becoming. There are no words to express my sadness to be away from you. But as you know, I am always with you, feeling your pain and your joy, helping to guide your way. All you have to do is be open to me. Let me in and I will be there.

  Tears streamed down Olivia’s face and into the tub. She blinked often to clear them away. Shifting her body, she began again.

  I know you are angry with me for making the choice to stop my treatments, and for hiding it from you. But it was something I had to do. Trust me, please. I saved you months of torture, of watching me slowly die. You may think it would have been better to have me around longer, but I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through the pain of watching my body and my mind deteriorate and see me in such pain. There is a point where ailing bodies deteriorate to the point that people become unrecognizable. There is a point where their minds do not function very well. A point where a person’s body becomes like an infant again, in need of constant care. I did not want you to go through that. I’m not certain I would have been able to, either. I want you to remember me as I was, happy, loving every minute of life, dancing, reading, painting, and enjoying the textures and sounds of our cozy little nest. Remember how we danced at midnight every July 4th! Remember how, when you were little, you would cuddle up in my bed and tell me the bed was too hard and we would just move to another bed, until we ended up on the couch in front of the fire—where you wanted to start out anyway.

  Olivia laughed to herself, swiping again at the tears. Her body shuddered as the water in the bathtub became cool.

  Remember our late night pig-out sessions and watching Lifetime television. Please try not to remember my illness, remember me for who I was, not for what I had.

  You are a beautiful, brilliant girl with such a wonderful future. I am so lucky to have you as my daughter. Take life as it is dealt to you, Olivia, and let it make you stronger, not beat you down. Never let anyone take your dreams away from you, no matter how grand or silly they seem. Paint the world, Olivia, drink it in!

  I suppose we need to talk about your father. Olivia, I have kept this from you because of so many reasons—they are hard to put into words, but the least of them is that I feel that this knowledge is going to be a burden to you—a burden that in so many ways, is equal to the blessing and peace of mind it will bring you. You will see that this involves more than just you and him. For that reason, I had to make the toughest decision of my life, and then keep the truth hidden.

  Do you remember when you asked me about Lawrence? Well, I didn’t really tell you the whole truth, and I am sorry. It still hurts to think about him. Lawrence was a very special man to me. I might have even been in love with him. We had been seeing each other for months when your father and I spent a weekend together. But, each time I was with Lawrence after that weekend, it hurt me—the guilt of my infidelity was too painful to bear—so I ended my relationship with Lawrence. When I told him that I needed some space, he was crushed, and truthfully, so was I.

  When I found out I was pregnant with you, I went away. I needed to think things through without the pressure of my friends. I know this is hard to understand. I love Holly, Peter, and Jack. But that decision was so important to me, and it would have had such a severe impact on so many people that I had to go away and clear my head.

  I told everyone I was going to Italy, as you have heard, but I didn’t. I wanted to go where I could be comfortable, so I went to Provincetown. I didn’t do much there. I painted, I read everything I could about childbirth and pregnancy—I devoured it, really, and I thought about if I was truly ready for a baby and if I loved your father enough to spend my life with him. It was not a one-night stand, Olivia, and I know that’s what you are thinking. It was so much more. I love your father so much, and did then, too. But it was a different kind of love, Olivia. And I am ever so thankful that we had you. You were meant to be, Olivia. You are the meaning in my life.

  While I was in Provincetown, there was no decision to be made as far as you were concerned. I wanted you. I wanted you with all of my heart and never wavered in my desire to bear you and be your mother. I wrestled with your father, though. He’s a wonderful, brilliant man. He’s caring, and loving, and everything I could want. But we weren’t in love. We were two people who had wondered their whole lives what it would be like to be together and we took a chance and tried it out. But it wasn’t true love, Olivia, it was friend-love. Three months after I arrived in Provincetown, I decided to come back and tell him about you. I had no hopes of marriage, but thought he might want to be involved in your life in some way. Olivia, one thing you must know in your heart

  – I truly believe God knew I would be taken early, and that’s why he allowed me to get pregnant. We were not trying to conceive a child, but God knew I needed you, somehow, and God knew you were meant to be.

  Your father is Jack, Olivia, Jack Townsend.

  Olivia lowered the letter and whispered, “Jack.” She closed her ey
es and rested her head back against the tub, the smell of her mother’s foam bath surrounded her. She thought of Jack and the way he was so loving with Holly. She remembered being on his shoulders as a young girl at the Labor Day parade in the center of town. She took a deep breath and continued reading.

  With my decision to raise you alone, Olivia, the road ahead seemed lined with lilies instead of tangled with barbs. I knew I could make my life work with a baby—and I wanted to! I knew Holly would jump at the chance to help me raise you, and I also believed that Jack would agree that marrying for the sake of a child, and not for the sake of love, wouldn’t have been the right thing to do.

  When I came back, Jack and Holly were very much in love, and already talking about marriage. I couldn’t crush Holly with my news. I was afraid if I told Jack, he might feel an obligation to marry me, and that’s not what I wanted. Then, when I saw how happy they were, the answer became clear. I lied. I lied to protect them. I told them that your father was a guy that I had met in Italy. You see, Livi, they became close when I left—filling the void I had left in each of their lives. They were meant for each other, and you were meant for me.

  Olivia set the letter down next to the tub. Holly? My God, Mom. You and Jack were together before Holly and Jack. Oh my God! A strange feeling came over Olivia and she began to shake. She wasn’t mad at her mother, but she was confused. Jack was her father? After all these years? He’d been around for every event in her life, and he didn’t know? My God, he doesn’t know now! Her head reeled. She turned on the hot water and lay still until the water became so warm that it brought her back to the present.

  She took a deep breath and began reading again.

  I loved Holly and Jack too much to put myself in the middle. I feared it would destroy all of our friendships. But mostly, I feared it would ruin Holly’s life. She adored Jack, and saw him as a gift from God, which he was for her. She needed him like I needed you. I held my secret.

  What about me? Olivia seethed. I could have had a dad!

  I thought that a situation would present itself, eventually, for me to tell them the truth. At times, I wasn’t sure if I had done the right thing. But then Holly lost Alissa Mae, and didn’t try again to have children for many years. I knew it would crush her to know that Jack and I had made you. So again, I decided I wouldn’t tell them. A few years later I became ill. When I realized I wasn’t going to recover, it all made sense to me. You see, Livi, I had you so Holly could be a mother. Now that I’m gone, she has you, Jack’s child, and you have your father. Baby girl, God works in mysterious ways. In our case, he created a maze that led you to have a wonderful life with me and a wonderful future with a new loving mother and a father who deserve you. And you deserve them.

  God damn it, Mom! Olivia didn’t know if she was more angry at her mother for not telling her who her father was or for having Jack as a father. It was all so complicated now. Jack and Holly didn’t know. She couldn’t tell them, which only meant one thing to her. She would never have a real father.

  I know you’ll be angry with me, and I don’t blame you. But as you get older, I hope that you will realize why I made the decision not to tell everyone. I did it not just for me and you, but for them, too. Holly loves you like her own daughter and has since the day you were born.

  This letter, Olivia, is a gift for you. It is your decision what you do with this information. You can tell everyone, or you can tell no one. That is something that only you can decide. I will be proud of you no matter how you handle this amazingly hard situation.

  I love you, Olivia. I may not have been a perfect mother, but I couldn’t have loved you more than I did or than I do. Live your life, honey, don’t mourn me too much. I’m okay. I had a wonderful life. I had you. Carry on our ritual, Olivia, it is part of who you are now, even though you haven’t experienced it. It is part of me. Holly can walk you through the ritual. I want her to. I want you to enjoy it as much as I always did. And treat yourself kindly, Livi, respect your desires and dreams. Follow them no matter how many times they change or where they might take you. Be true to your spirit. Be kind to people, and they will be kind back. And remember, when you need me, just call upon me. I’m never more than a thought away.

  I love you forever, Olivia Leigh. You are my treasure. Mom

  Olivia folded the letter and placed it back on the toilet lid. She wasn’t sure if she was glad that she had read it or if she wasn’t—a mixture of anger, sadness, and relief swirled within her young mind. She wondered when her mother meant for her to read it.

  She closed her eyes. Jack, she thought. Jack Townsend. Jack is my father. She lay back against the bathtub, closed her eyes, and felt as though she were whole. She knew who both her parents were—both—no more mystery. A strange sensation came over her body. The anger she felt moments before dissipated, and though she was beset with sadness about losing her mother, she was not depressed. She realized that in losing her mother, she had gained the knowledge of her father. Jack. She repeated his name over and over in her mind. Jack. Jack Townsend. Jack. Dad?

  As her mind relaxed, and her guard was let down, she closed her eyes. Within moments, she felt the presence of another person. She opened her eyes with a start, and looked around the small bathroom, expecting to see Holly. The steam rose in front of the window, and it was there that she saw her. Her hair was once again thick and vibrant. Her face was full, her eyes alive with love. Olivia could not make out her body, for it was engulfed in the steam, had become one with it.

  “Mom?” She whispered.

  Her mother nodded in silence.

  “Mom!” Olivia cried. She rose, the water dripped off of her naked body, her arms, her fingertips, her hair.

  Her mother moved toward her, arm’s reach away. Olivia found her beautiful, peaceful. She was stunned into silence. Her body shook from the cool air on her wet skin. She didn’t reach for a towel. She could not move her limbs for she was entranced with the vision of her mother, so real, so lively.

  Megan reached her arms out to her daughter, though she somehow knew they could not touch.

  Olivia reached for her mother. Her hand moved right through her mother’s arm, as if it were a cloud. Olivia screamed, “Mom!”

  Megan spoke, and it was heard as a rush of air, like a breathy whisper, “My love,” she said.

  Olivia’s eyes lit up. Her heart pounded. Another breathy whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  Olivia cried, choking out her words, “It’s okay. I love you, Mom.” Warm tears made their way down her wet face. She didn’t notice.

  “You’ll be okay,” Megan said. “You have to live your life.”

  Olivia nodded, her throat would not release the words that her heart tried to put forth.

  As her image faded away, Megan said, “It wasn’t fair, the waiting. Please…forgive me.” And she vanished into the steam, as if she had never existed.

  Olivia reached out, wailing, “Mom!” she grabbed at steam. “Mom! Come back!” Olivia fell to her knees, sobbing, “I forgive you, Mom. I do.”

  Holly rushed into the bathroom and found Olivia kneeling in the bathtub, naked and shivering, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Livi,” she said, “let’s get you a towel.”

  Dazed, Olivia whispered, “Mom!”

  “I know, honey. We all miss her very much.” Holly wrapped a large towel around Olivia and caught the faintest whiff of lavender and coconut. “Smells like her in here, huh?” she smiled.

  Olivia, still unable to believe what she had seen, simply nodded as she gazed straight ahead and into the steam that was vanishing just as her mother had moments before.

  “Jack, I found some things on Megan when she…the night…of our ritual,” Holly said in a hushed voice. She didn’t want to alert Olivia who was upstairs packing a bag.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  Holly moved to the kitchen and took down a large wooden bowl that sat atop the refrigerator. She removed a smaller box and placed it on the table.
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  Jack walked over and gazed into the box. “What is it, honey?”

  Holly reached in and took out a few photographs. She handed them to Jack and smiled.

  His face warmed at the sight of Olivia’s sleeping face and her funny homemade tiara which sat crooked on her head. He looked up at Holly, fresh tears in his eyes.

  “She had them tucked in her bra, right over her heart,” Holly said. “She knew, Jack. She knew she was going to go that night.” Threatened by tears, she busied herself at the sink.

  Jack unfolded the newspaper article and was not surprised to see Lawrence Childs. His smile quickly faded as he remembered his many conversations with Megan about dating Lawrence. He could tell, from the first time he and Lawrence had met, how in love with Megan Lawrence had been. It was not something he’d said—or even how he had acted. It was the way he had looked at her. The way his eyes had followed her every move with a longing—a desire— that one could almost bump into if they crossed between the two. Jack had asked Megan on several occasions why she didn’t date him more seriously, though to be truthful, he was always glad she hadn’t. His own selfishness now came back and lay on his shoulders like a heavy weight. Her answers were always a little vague and a little unsure, almost like a child’s. Oh, please, Jack, we’re just friends. I wouldn’t want to ruin the relationship we have. She had a hundred excuses—if she had one. Jack wished now that he had pushed Megan harder. He would have liked to see her in love, really in love, with someone who loved her back, someone like Lawrence. She had deserved it. She had given to others and hadn’t asked for anything in return. He refolded the article and set it gently in the box.