It Happened to Us

by François Houle

  He went down on one knee, kissed the urn, and carefully set Nadia’s remains. He took a handful of dirt that had been left beside the small hole that had been dug for the urn and let it trickle through his fingers.

  “Goodbye, sweetie,” he said.

  Mathieu got up and stood by his wife. His grandmother, to his left, rubbed his arm. He looked at his grandfather and saw the same sadness in the old man’s eyes that he felt in his heart. No one said anything as they took turns letting a handful of dirt cover the urn before walking away.

  The afternoon was getting late and a northerly wind picked up, biting at his face and moving the steel-coloured sky above. Mathieu looked up and noticed the pale shadow of the moon between cloud breaks.

  Goodnight Moon.

  How many times had he read that book to her at bedtime? By the time Nadia was three, she could recite the words as he read them. To this day, he remembered most of them too. He recalled how she would hang on, not giving in to sleep until he’d read the last syllable. Then she would close her eyes and cuddle with her teddy and blanket, a smile on her face. He would lean over and kiss her forehead, and she’d fall asleep within seconds.

  He didn’t know why he’d just thought of that, except that bedtime had been one of his favourite moments, a perfect way to end the day. Mathieu closed his eyes and let the memory wrap itself around him, the comfort it brought like slipping into a warm bed.

  When he opened his eyes, the moon was gone and so was the life he’d loved.

  Mathieu looked at his parents’ gravestones, a few feet away in the family plot. In the past year, he’d only come twice to visit them, the years erasing any memory he’d had of them long ago, but now he needed them more than ever.

  Mom, Dad, take care of your granddaughter.

  FOUR

  April 2, 2012

  7:55 a.m.

  Lori-Anne stepped out of the elevator and walked with purpose toward her office at the far end of the eighth floor. She nodded to people who said hi or offered condolences but after the fifth thank you her throat started to contract and dry up, the words barely audible even to her ears, and she now second-guessed her decision to come back today. No one expected to see her so soon and the surprised looks, or maybe they were disbelieving looks, confirmed this. It was all she could do not to run the last twenty feet to her office and lock herself in until everyone left at five.

  Nadia’s absence at home had been too obvious and she’d thought that maybe here, where her daughter never came, she could forget the hole in her soul for a while.

  Lori-Anne shut the door and put her briefcase on the expansive oak desk. She took a deep breath to slow her pounding heart and walked to the wall of windows that looked down Elgin Street, City Hall, and Confederation Park to the left. During Winterlude festivities each February, the three of them always went down to admire the ice sculptures carved by artists from around the world who came to showcase their talents, and then they’d skate on the Rideau Canal.

  Normally, she never tired of the view.

  But today wasn’t a normal day no matter how much she’d tried to deny it. And the people rushing about in a steady stream of activity told another story, driving home that nothing had really been changed by the death of her daughter, that for most people it was just another busy Monday. That reality left her short of breath and light headed. She collapsed into her expensive high-backed leather chair, her head in her hands.

  Nadia’s death means nothing to anyone else.

  The morning conversation with Mathieu slammed her back in her chair.

  “I need to do this,” she said.

  “Why? Our daughter just died. I think taking a few days, a week, is what normal people do. Your work can wait.”

  “I know it can wait,” she said while selecting an outfit. “But maybe I can’t stay here all day. I need to do something to keep my mind occupied.”

  “You can’t run away.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Maybe you should get out of bed and do something too. You’ve lain around all weekend.”

  “What do you want me to do? Our daughter is dead. I really don’t feel like doing anything. I can’t simply move on as if nothing happened.”

  “It’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Sure looks it to me.”

  Lori-Anne picked one of her pant-suits, light grey, and an off-white silk blouse.

  “That must be some important meeting. And you’ve picked your most expensive suit, too.”

  Lori-Anne stopped buttoning her blouse. “I don’t have any important meetings, as far as I know. I almost always wear this suit on Mondays.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Habit.”

  They stared at each other. For a second she questioned going to work, but being stuck at home with Mathieu and his moods would be worse. The drift between them, the hostility, was growing. He’d become cold, at times said words that were hurtful, and hadn’t touched her since the funeral.

  A knock at her door brought her back to the present. Her assistant, Sara, stepped in holding a large cup.

  “Here’s your coffee.”

  “You’re a life saver,” Lori-Anne said and took a sip. “Anything I should know?”

  Sara just stood there, glassy-eyed. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I mean, I know I told you this at the service, which was beautiful by the way . . . oh God, that probably sounds awful.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I was glad to see you and so many others. Mathieu and I really appreciated it. It’s certainly not an easy time for us.”

  “Okay, well . . . huh, let me know if you need anything. Andy isn’t in yet but I’m sure he’ll come and talk to you since you’re here. And I cleared your calendar since I thought you’d take a few days.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought maybe if I kept busy, it would help somehow.”

  Sara left and Lori-Anne powered her laptop. Once it was up she tackled the two hundred plus emails that had landed in her inbox over the past week. Before they’d installed the spam filter it probably would have been close to five hundred emails, most of them offering Viagra at incredible prices or some sort of annoying porn. About halfway through the chore her enthusiasm waned and something to her left caught her eye.

  Nadia’s grade six graduation picture.

  She rubbed her forehead. A moment, that’s all she needed. But it wasn’t. She reached for the picture and stared at it, her chest feeling so tight her heart wanted to tear it apart. She picked up the phone but slammed it back down. What would she say to Mathieu? Hey you were right. This was a bad idea. Should have listened to you.

  Instead Lori-Anne put the picture face down on her desk.

  After a few minutes, she regained some control and plowed through the rest of her emails, giving them a quick look over and deleting as many as she could. A few she moved to her important folder to look at later. An hour had slipped by when Andy entered her office without knocking.

  “Why’re you here?”

  She sat back in her chair. “Don’t I work here?”

  He sat on the corner of her desk. “You know that’s not what I asked. You lost your daughter. I expected you to take some time off. As much as you need. Maybe I should send you home.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  “Last chance.”

  “Andy.”

  “Okay then. Meeting at ten. We’ll go over the Green Solution account.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’d like to know where we’re at before we meet with them Thursday.”

  “No problem.”

  Now Lori-Anne had focus, something she knew would occupy her mind for a few hours. When she returned from the washroom, there was a fresh cup of coffee on her desk. She pulled the Green Solution file and got bu
sy.

  At 9:50, Sara stuck her head in the office and whispered, “Nancy is on the phone.”

  “I have a few minutes. Put it through.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey Nance, what’s up?”

  “What are you doing at work?” Nancy said. “I called to see how you guys were doing and Mathieu told me you went to work. I didn’t believe him at first but then he kept saying you weren’t home. So, there you are.”

  “I know it seems strange, but I needed to.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I had a weak moment earlier, but I’ve settled.”

  “I wish I had your resolve.”

  “Not so sure I have any,” Lori-Anne said. “Can I confide in you?”

  “You know you can.”

  “Things aren’t great with Mathieu. The tension between us is awful and to be honest, I wanted to get away from him as much as I didn’t want to be home missing my daughter.”

  “He’s hurting. I’m sure it’ll blow over and you guys will work it out. I mean, what you two are going through, it makes my problem seem so meaningless.”

  “Your troubled marriage isn’t meaningless.” Lori-Anne thought she heard ice cubes in a glass. “You and Jim, any chance of fixing things?”

  “You’d have to ask him. Your dear brother hasn’t been around lately. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re pretty much over. Twenty-seven years of marriage kaput.”

  “Oh Nancy, you’re sure you can’t work it out?”

  “Takes two to tango, they say, and I’m all alone on the dance floor.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. You know, your brother is the only man I’ve ever been with. Stole my heart in high school, stole my best years, and now he’s trading me for a younger model.”

  Sara came in and pointed to her watch. “I wish I could talk longer but I have to run to a meeting. How about I call you later?”

  Sucking on ice cube sound. “Sure. We can both cry about our shitty lives.”

  “It’ll get better.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “I got to go.”

  Lori-Anne hung up, grabbed her file, and rushed to the meeting room, Nancy’s cynical outlook on the state of their lives trailing her down the hall.

  * * *

  The meeting lasted through lunch and by 1:30 Lori-Anne was famished. She went down to the food court on the ground floor, bought a chicken salad with a Diet Coke, and found a table. Thoughts of Nancy came to her. She was worried. Nancy had never been much of a drinker, but that had changed.

  She recalled Caitlin mentioning something about her parents at Christmas but Lori-Anne hadn’t really paid attention, or hadn’t wanted to believe it. Her oldest brother had never been her favourite, sharp around the edges like her dad, but as far as she knew he’d always been faithful.

  Not anymore.

  Now she understood why Caitlin had been around more than usual. Hanging out at their house had been better than going home and dealing with whatever nonsense was happening there. Lori-Anne grabbed her cell and called Nancy.

  “Sorry I had to cut you off earlier.”

  “I understand.”

  “Are you okay? You don’t sound right.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, stretching the last syllable. “Just having a little cocktail.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “Well, you know, my husband is screwing someone else behind my back.”

  “I know,” Lori-Anne said. “I’d like to wring his neck.”

  “He didn’t even come to his niece’s funeral. Who forgets something like that?”

  Lori-Anne had wondered the same thing but had decided not to bother with Jim. Most of their conversations ended in ugly disagreement. Mostly because he knew that if she wanted it, their father would make her president of Weatherly Construction. But she didn’t want it.

  “I’m concerned about you.”

  “And I’m concerned about you and Mathieu. I’m only losing a marriage. If I lost one of the kids—I don’t know what I’d do. Please tell me everything is fine between you two.”

  “Everything is fine.” No need to burden Nancy, she was such a sweet and wonderful woman. “It will be in time, I’m sure.”

  “If you need anything at all.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask. There’s one thing you can do for me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Don’t drink yourself into a stupor, please. My idiot brother isn’t worth it.” She heard Nancy sob. “You’re a good person. You raised four great kids.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said through tears. “Maybe there’s a reason Derek works way up north. He probably figured out when he was young to stay away from his dad.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I’m sure one of the kids probably told him. They keep in touch with Facebook and texting. Can you believe he’ll be twenty-six on April 29?”

  “Makes us seem old.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “I think we both need to keep our heads up. It’s going to get better.”

  “I sure hope so,” Nancy said. “I keep thinking, what did I do wrong? You know? Why isn’t he happy with me? It hurts.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. He’s the one cheating.”

  “I know but—”

  “I’m there for you and the kids. Maybe I should call my brother and—.”

  “Please don’t,” Nancy said, her voice regaining strength. “You and Matt have enough to deal with. I just have to figure out what’s right for me and the kids. I should let you get back to work.”

  “We’ll talk soon.”

  Lori-Anne dumped her empty salad container and pop can in the recycling bin and headed back to her office. She wanted to phone Mathieu but wasn’t sure how that conversation would fare. She didn’t want to get in a fight with him, or get all upset over Nadia. But they needed to talk before their marriage went the way of Nancy and Jim’s. Relationships failed every day for petty reasons, but there was nothing petty about losing a child. Somehow, she and Mathieu had to find a way to get through this together, not alone. They each had their own grief, but she wanted to share hers and wanted him to share his. That’s the only way they were going to survive this tragedy. After all these years, her love for him was just as strong, and she hoped his was too. She’d give anything to have Nadia back, but she was gone and it was just the two of them now, like when they’d first met. But it wasn’t like that anymore. They weren’t young and innocent and full of silly hopes. Hadn’t seemed silly back then, maybe a little optimistic or romantically hopeful, but that’s what being young was all about. Now they were middle-aged and a bit beaten.

  Lori-Anne picked up Nadia’s picture and held it in her hands. Then she placed it in the middle drawer of her desk. Right now it was just too painful to look at, that beautiful smiling face begging to be touched. She hoped tomorrow, or the day after that, she’d be better and could bring the picture out again.

  Seven months would go by before she did, and things would be a lot worse than she ever could have imagined they could get.

  FIVE

  Good Friday

  April 6, 2012

  4:13 a.m.

  Mathieu woke up disoriented, and then realized he’d fallen asleep on the recliner in the spare bedroom. He’d converted it to an office long ago, when he and Lori-Anne had come to terms with the fact that they wouldn’t have any more kids. Two miscarriages after Nadia and then nothing for several years had been disappointing. At least they’d been able to have Nadia.

  Mathieu looked at his watch. Just after midnight. He got up and walked down the dark hallway, bypassing his bedroom and going into Nadia’s. Over the past week, every night, he got up two or three times and went to his daughter’s room, hoping that everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks was just a nightmare. It wasn’t. Nadia was really gone.

  His heart sank a little dee
per inside his chest. He dropped onto her bed and grabbed one of her toy animals, stuffies she’d called them since she was two. She had so many that they covered half the bed and even at fourteen, she wouldn’t get rid of them.

  He stared at the frog in his hands. Where had it come from? He couldn’t remember. Some he’d bought. Others she’d gotten from family. And some were won at fairs they’d gone to over the years. It didn’t matter.

  A sliver of light knifed through the small gap between the curtains. Mathieu walked over to the window and peeked out. The moon, almost full, hung low and bright in the sky. Nadia’s room looked out the front of the house, at the big red maple tree. The road was quiet, the neighbourhood tucked in for the night.

  Mathieu didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep for a while. He put the frog on the bed and walked out, making sure to close the door. Back in his office, he looked at pictures of Nadia’s childhood on his computer. He’d bought his first digital camera when she was four, and he’d taken thousands of photos over the past ten years. Photo albums of when she was a baby filled the bookcase beside his desk.

  Click.

  A picture of Nadia dressed as Hermione, when she was six. The movie Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban had been the craze that summer and she’d wanted that costume for Halloween.

  A sickly feeling dropped like cold metal into the pit of his stomach.

  Click.

  Nadia and Caitlin playing outside on the swing set that same autumn. For the first time since the funeral, he wondered how Caitlin was doing. She hadn’t been around, and that felt strange. She’d always come home after school with Nadia, the two of them raiding the fridge before heading up to Nadia’s room.

  Click.

  Nadia making a snow angel in the first snow of winter. The metal in his gut seemed to grow heavier. But he couldn’t stop himself.

  Click.

  “What are you doing?”

  He jumped. “I couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

  “I woke up and you weren’t in bed, again,” Lori-Anne said. “Maybe you should take a Nytol before bed.”