It Happened to Us

by François Houle

“My heart aches so much,” she said. “I sometimes want to pull it out to stop the pain.”

  “I know how that feels,” Mathieu said, barely above a whisper. “Missing someone is just about the hardest pain in the world, especially when we know that person can’t come back. We hurt because she meant so much to us. You don’t hurt for someone you didn’t love, and we sure loved her.”

  Caitlin stepped away from Mathieu and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I miss her more than I miss my dad.”

  “I guess things are pretty crappie at home.”

  “Yeah,” Caitlin said and stared at her feet. “Dad moved in with some other woman. I think she works for him. He was coming to get the rest of his things today so that’s really why I didn’t want to be home. I’m pissed at him.”

  “I can understand.”

  “It’s not fair. He’s messing up everything. He doesn’t care about us. As long as he’s happy, right? But what about me? I hate him right now for what he’s doing. Is that wrong?”

  Mathieu shrugged. “Does it feel wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe a little. I don’t wish him dead or anything, but I don’t really want to see him either. I just get so mad when I see him. So many of my friends have divorced parents but I never thought it would happen to my parents. I always thought they loved each other.”

  “Sometimes, people change. Life can do that.”

  Caitlin looked up at her uncle. “Are things better with you and Aunt Lori-Anne?”

  How did Caitlin know? Was the family talking, or did she just pick up on it? Kids, especially teenagers, noticed things. How could he explain to his fourteen-year-old niece the loneliness of a shattered marriage? It wasn’t enough to still love Lori-Anne. Something was missing, and every day the emptiness in their house reminded him of that.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said after a moment. “We’re having some difficulties right now but I’m sure it’ll get better.”

  “I hope you don’t get a divorce too,” Caitlin said. “It’s bad enough my parents are. I don’t think Nadia would want you guys to. That would so double suck.”

  “Things sure seem to suck lately, that’s for sure.” He took the pencil from behind his ear and started to drum it against the thumb of his left hand. “We’re all going through some tough times right now.”

  “My mom drinks too much.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I tried it a while back, to see why she did it,” Caitlin said, a grimace on her face. “It burned my throat like bad medicine. I know kids in my class who get drunk all the time and they talk about it like it’s so great. But I bet they never see their mom drunk and throwing up and falling to pieces.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” he said. “I know things look shitty for you, but it will get better.”

  “I guess if Nadia was still here, maybe my parents getting a divorce wouldn’t bum me out so much. But without her . . . it’s like . . . you know. I would feel so much better if I still had her.”

  “Yeah,” Mathieu said and swallowed a bag of nails. “We all would.”

  EIGHT

  June 14, 2012

  5:59 p.m.

  Lori-Anne stood in front of the Father’s Day card display at the Hallmark store, unable to find something that was appropriate. The covers were wrong, the wording was wrong, the entire idea was wrong. What had possessed her to stop in the first place? After the Mother’s Day fiasco, why bother?

  They weren’t parents to anyone anymore.

  “Damn it.” She put the card back and hurried out of the store. She slammed the car door, threw her purse on the passenger seat, and drove away. Maybe ignoring Father’s Day was the best thing to do. She’d just thought that if she did something nice, something from the heart, that maybe it would pull Mathieu out of that shell he’d been hiding in for the last two months. She was so tired of being alone and just wanted to feel the tenderness of his fingers against her flesh, the security of his arms around her as they lay in bed, the affirmation that they were still a couple.

  She longed for the way he once looked at her, not goofy or anything, but with so much want in his eyes that she found herself light-headed from the joy that burst inside her. He made her feel alive and desired and his, which wasn’t a bad thing. It was an incredible high to be loved that much by another person. His passion quenched the thirst she’d been missing in relationships with other men. After her failed affair with her English professor, Lori-Anne had found her prince charming in this young, idealistic Mathieu. It had not taken long for her to realize that he was exactly the gentle sort of man that she’d been looking for and needed.

  That Mathieu had to be there behind that wall of depression. She really believed that. Once in a while, she saw glimpses of him, but his grief kept pulling him away. The more she tried to help, the further adrift they seemed to be.

  Lori-Anne pulled in behind the Buick and killed the engine before she realized that she’d driven to Mathieu’s grandparents’ place. Since she was here, she got out and rang the bell.

  “It’s so nice to see you,” Grandpa said as he let her in. “You’re alone?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I was heading home but somehow ended up here. Hope you don’t mind, but maybe we can talk?”

  “Join us in the kitchen,” he said. “I’m making dinner. Did you want to eat with us?”

  “I don’t want to intrude—”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Got plenty. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Lori-Anne had always loved this about Grandpa—she pretty much had come to think of both of them as her own grandparents especially since hers had been deceased for quite some time—the way they made her feel welcomed all the time. He and Grandma had always been great listeners, and maybe she needed that right now.

  “Thank you,” she said and sat at the small round kitchen table. “How are you doing, Grandma?”

  “I’m fine, dear,” she said. Her speech had a permanent slur now. “A little frustrating not being able to do as much as I used to.”

  “She saw her doctor yesterday,” Grandpa said. “He told her to take it one day at a time. She could live fine for another ten years without another episode—”

  “Or I could have another stroke tomorrow,” Grandma finished.

  “Oh, I hope not,” Lori-Anne said. “Just take it easy. You deserve it.”

  “I’ve lived a good, long life. A happy one. Sure we had struggles, but Leon made it all worth it. He’s been a good man.”

  Leon kissed his wife on the forehead.

  Feeling a little uncomfortable, Lori-Anne looked away, thinking that’s what she wanted with Mathieu. When she’s eighty-plus years old she still wants him to look at her the way he did when she was twenty-three. Grandpa and Grandma were proof that love could last forever.

  “No more talk like that,” Grandpa said. “We’re depressing Lori-Anne.”

  “Just seeing how much the two of you still love each other, that leaves a girl’s heart full of hope,” Lori-Anne said. “Speaking of depression, has Mathieu said anything to you two?”

  “We haven’t seen him since Mother’s Day,” Grandpa said. “Called him a couple of times but he cut it short, saying he was busy trying to catch up on orders.”

  “He did fall behind,” Lori-Anne said. “I’d hoped that he’d at least spoken with you guys.”

  “Things aren’t good lately, are they?” Grandpa said.

  Lori-Anne shook her head. “I’d like to lie and say they are, but they’re not. We barely talk. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “You keep trying,” Grandpa said. He finished putting the garden salad together and put the bowl on the table. He put three handfuls of noodles into a boiling pot of water and stirred the simmering spaghetti sauce. Garlic bread in the oven smelled like warm buttery comfort.

  “That smells so good,” Lori-Anne said. Her stomach growled, remin
ding her that she’d skipped lunch again. “He always treats you this good?” she said to Grandma.

  Grandma smiled. “You know, we’ve always leaned on each other. I had an awful time when Denis passed away. We tried to tell Mathieu this, how we ended up seeing a counsellor to help me cope, but he wasn’t interested. Medication is so much better than back then.”

  Grandpa put three plates on the table. “He can be a bit stubborn.”

  “Denis sure was,” Grandma said and took a mouthful of her dinner. “This is wonderful, dear.”

  “Well, it’s your recipe so it ought to be,” Grandpa said. “Dig in Lori-Anne.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, the cutlery clinking against dinnerware. Grandpa brought out a bottle of red wine and Lori-Anne couldn’t pass that up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an actual dinner.

  “How did you do it?” Lori-Anne asked once she finished eating. “Get through it, I mean.”

  “We talked,” Grandpa said. “And we listened. I guess what we had was trust in each other. Not many marriages last without trust.”

  “How can I get Mathieu to trust me?”

  “You need to talk, the two of you,” Grandpa said.

  “He doesn’t want to. And I’m slowly giving up.”

  “You can’t,” Grandpa said as he pushed his empty plate to the side and tackled his salad. “He’s angry. Flore wasn’t angry, she was just sad. Mathieu’s anger is a barrier that you’ll need to get through. It’s not going to be easy, I’m afraid. We’ll keep trying too.”

  “Thank you, but it almost sounds hopeless,” Lori-Anne said. “He has to want to work it out, but without a clear mind, I don’t see that happening.”

  “Problem is that right now Mathieu can’t see the end of his grief. He’s an emotional boy. I remember when he tore the ligaments in his knee and his hockey dreams ended. He was miserable for months.”

  Grandma nodded. “Oh my, was he ever. Didn’t matter what we said to him. He’d had his sights on a hockey career for years. Dreamed of playing in the NHL and he was really good so maybe it would have happened.”

  “But this is much more than that,” Lori-Anne said. “His knee healed and he moved on. Nadia is gone for good. How can he heal from that?”

  “Stick with him and he’ll come through,” Grandpa said.

  “I want to believe you so badly,” she said. “I want my husband back, but—”

  “It’s hard,” Grandpa said.

  “Like you can’t imagine,” she said.

  “Don’t give up,” Grandma said. “He’s lucky to have you and he’ll come around. Have faith.”

  “I think I need more than that. I need a miracle.”

  Grandma reached across the table for her hand. “We’ve always loved you, and we’re sure that Mathieu does too. He needs you to stay strong. Your strength will get you both through this. We believe in you.”

  Lori-Anne smiled. It was nice to hear how others saw her, but there were times when she looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t see a strong or confident woman. She saw a little girl who was in way over her head.

  And knowing that it was up to her to save her marriage left her feeling like bees were ripping apart her insides, desperately trying to get out.

  NINE

  Father’s Day

  June 17, 2012

  7:37 am

  Mathieu pushed Nadia’s bedroom door open and stood in the doorway. Her room looked the same as the day before, and the day before that. It hadn’t changed in nearly three months, frozen in time, a reminder that a life had come to an abrupt halt. He stared at a poster of Kurt Cobain. Just a few months ago it had been all about Justin Bieber. It had been Justin this and Justin that. Mathieu would cringe when she mentioned his name.

  And almost overnight, Nirvana’s front man had appeared. And then her rollercoaster moods had started.

  He picked up her iPod and skimmed through the play list: Nirvana, Green Day, Blink 182, Interpol, She Wants Revenge. His little girl had changed, pulling a one eighty. What had happened? Maybe Lori-Anne had been on to something when she’d mentioned that maybe Nadia had been trying drugs. Except the day of her funeral hadn’t been the day to bring that up.

  Now he wondered.

  It would explain the turnaround. Hadn’t he smelled smoke on Nadia and Caitlin? Yes, Nancy smoked and it could be residue on Caitlin, but on Nadia? He knew kids her age tried pot, but he’d always hoped that she’d be above that. Parents didn’t want their kids to get hurt, parents didn’t want their kids to do anything wrong, parents didn’t want their kids to grow up. But the days of being Nadia’s hero were in the rear-view mirror of his life.

  Mathieu remembered how she’d kept dropping her iPod, so he’d gone out one day after New Year’s to buy one of those gel covers. It had saved the iPod on several occasions. He put it back on the night table and moved toward her bookshelf: The Harry Potter books, the Twilight series, the Hunger Games trilogy. Nadia had loved to read. That too had stopped just a few months ago.

  Why?

  He pulled her grade six yearbook from the shelf and leafed through it, seeing a couple of pictures of Nadia and Caitlin. They looked so much younger just two years ago. Kids. Good kids. Still innocent.

  No smoking.

  No attitude.

  He put the yearbook back and sat at her desk. He powered up Nadia’s laptop. A birthday present, this past February. She’d begged for that more than the iPod. He and Lori-Anne figured she could use it for homework assignments. Mostly though, she used it for Facebook. All the kids used Facebook. It was the way they socialized. Strange how social media was such a big thing, yet to Mathieu, it seemed to lack the main aspect of socializing: people getting together. Sure, the kids had hundreds of friends, virtual friends, but really, who was kidding who? How many of those so-called friends actually knew you? A dozen? Half a dozen? One or two?

  His fingers hovered over the keyboard, barely touching the keys. He was being critical. It wasn’t his generation. He didn’t quite understand them. It was a parent thing. Each generation never quite got the other.

  Then again, he loved to use the internet for research. He’d discovered all sorts of nice woodworking projects online. He’d even joined a chat group of woodworkers and exchanged ideas regularly with people he’d never met in person.

  The world was simply different.

  Smaller but a little lonelier.

  “What are you doing?” Lori-Anne said.

  Mathieu turned and saw his wife standing in the doorway. She never entered Nadia’s room. The last time he’d pointed that out, it had turned into a vicious fight. He had accused her of not caring, of not loving their dead daughter. Lori-Anne had said nothing. She had not cried. She had iced him with her eyes, and walked away.

  Nadia had been gone only a week.

  He had run after her, shouting from the top of the stairs about how cold she was and what was she scared of, it was just a room. Lori-Anne paused halfway down the staircase, but held her tongue. Still, nothing had been the same since.

  “I’m just sitting here, taking in who she was. It brings me closer to her. Sometimes I can even smell her, the way she smelled after her bath when she was a baby. The Ivory soap on her skin, the baby shampoo. It’s all here,” he said with a hand gesture. “If you came in, you’d feel it too.”

  Lori-Anne stared him down.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly. “I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” she said. “Just let it be.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Sorry.”

  They looked at each other for a second or two, and then Mathieu turned back to the laptop to get away from her gaze.

  “We should talk,” Lori-Anne said, crossing her arms.

  “We’re talking now.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I mean about what’s going on between us.”

  “Okay,
” he said.

  “Can you look at me?”

  Mathieu did but struggled not to turn away. The way Lori-Anne pinned him with her stare, cold and angry, but also vulnerable, afraid to get hurt put him on edge. He really didn’t want to have a fight. Not this morning. He just wanted to remember his daughter and pretend that she was still with them. He wanted to be a father on Father’s Day.

  Was that too much to ask?

  “Look, I’ll call my parents and tell them I’m not coming over so we can work a few things out.”

  “But it’s Father’s Day. Don’t you want to see your dad?”

  “I’ve been a little mad at him lately.”

  Mathieu didn’t say anything. He felt the same way about his father-in-law. Polite acknowledgment of one another best described their relationship. If it could be called that. The old man had never approved of Mathieu although Mathieu had never done anything to cause Samuel to have this animosity toward him. He’d stopped looking for his approval long ago.

  He was simply Lori-Anne’s father.

  “So, can we talk about us?” Lori-Anne said.

  “We used to ride our bikes a lot back then,” he said, looking at the 8x10 picture hanging on the wall, showing the three of them on their bikes. Nadia had been three or four and sat in the bike seat behind Mathieu. He’d put the camera on the hood of the car and set the timer while Lori-Anne held his bike until he mounted it. Not the best picture but Nadia had liked it.

  “We went to Rockcliffe that day.”

  Lori-Anne leaned against the doorframe. The hardness in her eyes faded. “Yeah. We rode around and looked at all those expensive homes.”

  “We stopped at a park because Nadia was having a bird. She had to play there. It had this thing you hang on to and it slides across a long steel beam. What do you call that?”

  She shrugged.

  “We had fun,” he said, still looking at the picture. “We used to have simple fun outings. Nadia fell asleep in her seat on the way back to the car. Her head kept swinging from side to side and I had a hard time balancing the bike.”

  Lori-Anne smiled. “I’d forgotten about that. I was laughing so hard and you were all uptight about losing your balance.”