“Of course, sweetie,” Sara said, putting the washcloth down and unplugging the tub to let the water out.
“Then what did I say?” her older daughter asked, hands on her hips, acting very much like the parent.
“Uh…” Sara racked her brain. Bears? Giraffes? “You were telling me about the lemurs?” Sara asked with a hopeful grin. Megan pushed her lips out in disappointment. “Busted,” Sara said with a chuckle. “Sorry Megan, I guess I got caught up in a daydream.”
“What were you thinking about?” Megan asked.
“Nothing, really. Mostly how good it was to have you both back. The house is so empty without you!” Megan’s face beamed at the answer, and Sara breathed an invisible sigh of relief that the girls couldn’t read her mind. “So what were you saying?”
“I was asking you what divorce meant,” Megan asked. Sara did a double-take at the question. What the heck were they talking about this weekend?
“Why do you want to know?” Sara asked after a moment’s pause to control her voice.
“I heard Daddy talking about it on the phone. He said he might be getting a divorce. One of my friends said her parents got a divorce but I never asked them what it was. Do you have a divorce? Do you know what it is?” she peppered at her mother. Sara thought about how to answer her daughter, and realized that her daughter needed the full truth. But first, she couldn’t help but gather a bit of information on Kevin.
“Was your daddy sad when he said it?” Sara asked her.
“Not really. Why, is it a sad thing?”
“It can be. I mean, it might feel sad at first. But sometimes it means that someone can be happier than they were before a divorce. Do you know who he was talking to?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t answer the phone. But Mom, what IS a divorce?”
Sara sighed. She took Lily out of the tub, lifting her wet body onto the towel across her lap and then wrapping her up in it.
“Divorce is when two people who were married decide not to be married anymore,” Sara said, hugging Lily close to her and looking Megan in the eyes, trying to look calm and reassuring.
“Are you getting a divorce, too? Like Daddy?” Lily asked in a sleepy voice, sedated from the warm bath water. Megan’s eyes were already filled with tears.
“Of course, dummy.” Megan’s voice was sharp, matching her angry words. “Mommy and Daddy are married to each other. If Daddy’s getting a divorce, then Mommy is too.”
“Well, hold on Megan. First, don’t call Lily a dummy. She’s only four, she doesn’t know. Second, I don’t know if we’re getting a divorce. Daddy and I haven’t talked to each other about it.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” Megan demanded.
“Because Daddy and Mommy are taking a small break from being married to each other. It’s not a forever break right now, just a vacation break,” she said, realizing how lame that terminology sounded. Vacations were when you went somewhere fun. This was anything but fun.
“So when is he coming back from his vacation break?” Megan asked.
“I don’t know,” Sara said. “I’m not sure if he’s coming back,” she admitted.
“You won’t let him come back, will you?” Megan accused her. “You got mad at Daddy and told him to leave.”
“What are you talking about, Megan? I didn’t force him to go,” Sara defended herself.
“Yes you did! I heard you! You told him to leave that night, to not come back.” Sara realized that her daughter had been awake the night they had fought and she told him to pack up his things. Megan had heard every word from their argument.
“Megan, it’s not like that,” Sara started to explain.
“I hate you! I hate you and I want to leave here too. I want to live with Daddy! He has a pool and tennis courts, and lives near a park. All you have is stupid stuff, and you make people go away.” She ran from the bathroom and down the hall, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her.
“I don’t hate you, Mommy,” Lily said underneath the towel. Sara swiped at her eyes and smiled down at Lily. She ruffled her wet hair with the towel.
“I know, bug,” she said.
“Is it okay if I miss Daddy, too?” she asked her mom. Sara smiled.
“Of course you can,” she told her. “Want to know a secret?” Lily nodded with wide eyes. “I miss him too.”
After Lily got dressed in her pajamas and crawled into bed, Sara kissed her goodnight on the forehead and then shut off the light. She kept the door open a crack and then crept down the hall. Megan’s door was still closed, no light escaping from the bottom of the door. It appeared she had gone to sleep. Sara tapped on the door. When there was no answer, she eased the door open and peered in. Megan’s sleeping body rose and fell with each shuddering breath, the kind that happened after a good, hard cry. She hoped her daughter had escaped to happier dreams, a place that was free of moms and dads who divorce.
Sara closed the door without making a sound. She went around the house and turned off all the lights, did a quick clean-up of the bathroom, and then retired to her bedroom where she took a long, hot shower. She lathered up her hair, but paused in the midst of it. John had told her she smelled like me. She inhaled, taking in the mango scent of the shampoo we both had fallen in love with as teens.
Sara had discovered it first, a more expensive brand that she bought with her own money to avoid using the cheaper brand our mom bought for the household. She often had to fight me about using her shampoo, too, until she learned it was best just to take it out of the shower when she was done to keep me from using it. I soon gave in and bought my own whenever I thought to save enough money instead of spending it on books or music.
Sara put two and two together and realized that John smelled me in her hair. She sped through the rest of her shower, rinsing out the shampoo and then wrapping her hair in a large towel. Grabbing the bottles of both shampoo and conditioner, she started to toss them into the waste basket, but thought better of it. Such a waste to throw them away, she thought of the half-full bottles. Instead she placed them under the cabinet of her sink, promising herself she’d find a new brand in the morning.
When she came out of the bathroom, she could see a lump under the covers of her bed across the room, a mass of dark hair peeking out from under the blankets. She smiled, pulling on a nightshirt and slipping into bed beside Megan.
“I don’t really hate you,” Megan mumbled against her pillow.
“I know you don’t, sweetie,” Sara said, kissing her on the cheek before turning out the light. “Goodnight, darling,” she whispered, using the same endearment we both had heard often growing up, a nickname her daughters had now inherited. Sara closed her eyes in the dark, pushing against the thoughts that kept swimming at her, focusing instead on this moment when her daughter didn’t hate her, and relishing the closeness they still shared while she was still the biggest part of her daughters’ young lives.
Twenty-one
John spent the next few days trying to forget Sara, forgetting to mourn my absence as well in the process, at least for a time. He had too much to do anyway. The last of his things were in the moving van, and Sam helped him out of the apartment, erasing all proof of our life there to ensure at least a partial return of the deposit. Sam was staying with him for the next week, using part of his summer break to help him with the move, but also to escape his mom and all of her rules. He didn’t share that last reason with his dad, but John wasn’t oblivious to this fact, either.
The two worked hard, their words few and far between, only speaking when they needed to give or take direction. John was amazed at how much Sam had grown in the time he’d been gone. In the year since he’d lived with his mom, he had gained a quiet wisdom that leaned more toward the man he was becoming and further away from the boy he once was. He’d been driving for a few months, a concept that John could still couldn’t believe. As if seeing him behind the wheel weren’t enough of a clue that his kid was growing up, Sam stood half-a-he
ad taller than John, towering over him whenever they stood side by side. The angry teenager he’d once been was now replaced by a quieter, reserved young man who wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and get some work done.
“I’m proud of you, son,” John said out of the blue, producing the hint of a smile on Sam’s face. The apartment was done, and they were surveying each room to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Why is that?” Sam asked. His dad never said anything like this when they lived together. Even after he moved in with his mom, his dad appeared distant and unavailable. But ever since the heart attack, it seemed like his dad was reaching out to him more. It still wasn’t as often as he wanted, and Sam sometimes resented him for that. But in the times they were together, Sam forgot to hold a grudge, amazed that he enjoyed hanging with his old man.
“I just am, I guess. Nothing specific. Or maybe it’s because of everything,” John said. “I’m just really proud of the man you’re becoming. I love the person you are.”
“Uh, thanks,” Sam said, unsure how to respond. I could see him smiling on the inside, though, soaking up his dad’s words to take the place of at least one of the hurts he’d carried from his youth.
John dropped the keys off with the apartment manager, and then drove the moving van across the bridge to the house in San Anselmo. Sam followed in John’s car and helped him carry the boxes into the house, placing each one in the room they’d be unpacked in. His own room, the one he would stay in on the days he would spend with his father, held little more than a bed. Sam still hadn’t brought any of his things over from his mom’s, but was pleased to have a place to call his own in his dad’s new house.
That evening they hung out in the living room surrounded by boxes as they attacked a hot platter of just-delivered pizza. In five minutes, half of it was already missing.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” John asked him. Sam groaned.
“Jeez Dad, is that all you ever wonder about? You ask that every time I see you.”
“So you are seeing someone,” John said, laughing out loud when Sam confirmed it with a smile he failed to hide. “What’s her name?”
“Alana,” he admitted, realizing any attempts at secrecy would be worn down by his persistent father. Truth was, he was head-over-heels in love with Alana. It had only been a few months, and even his mom didn’t know she existed. But he had finally lost his virginity to her, making himself a man in the middle of his mom’s living room next to the throw pillows and two dozen picture frames she kept around the room for appearance’s sake. If she knew how he had soiled the innocence of that room, it was a good bet she’d have it redecorated.
“Is she nice?” John asked.
“One of the nicest,” Sam said, unmasking the sincerity of his smile. “And the prettiest.”
“Ah, the pretty ones. They’ll get you in trouble by stealing your heart,” John teased. “I’m happy for you, son. Maybe one of these days you can bring her over to meet your old dad.
“Maybe,” Sam said without committing. “So, are you seeing anyone?” John took his time chewing, mulling over the question and how he should answer.
“Not exactly,” John said.
“Not exactly, meaning you’re not seeing someone or you are?” Sam asked, possessing a sudden interest in whatever his dad had to say.
“Not exactly, meaning I am not seeing someone, but that I did have a brief moment when I thought I might,” John said.
“You’re not making any sense,” Sam said.
“Exactly.”
“Dad…”
“Let’s just say,” John began, swallowing the last of his pizza in one final gulp, “that love is way more complicated than I thought it was, and dating sucks.” Sam seemed to take this as an acceptable answer, though I could see the thoughts rolling around in his head. I was surprised to see my face pop into his mind. It didn’t happen that much anymore, except when he was with John. So when it did, I perked up and listened with intent.
“Do you ever think of her anymore?” Sam asked. He didn’t even need to specify who “her” was; John knew who he was talking about.
“All the time,” John replied. “Do you?”
“Sometimes,” Sam answered. “And of Joey, too. It’s weird. I didn’t think I even cared that much when they were around. But when they died, it was like something had been taken away from me that I wanted to keep holding onto. They were cool. I mean, it was cool having a little brother around. And Rachel would have been a great stepmom.”
“I think she would have, too,” John said. He felt good talking about me out loud, and I glowed with happiness as I was remembered by the two of them.
“Is that what makes it so hard for you to move on?” Sam asked.
“Probably. I mean, it just feels weird. It’s almost like I’m cheating on her by even thinking of dating someone else,” John admitted. Sam digested his words with a thoughtful nod.
“That makes sense,” he told his father. “Still, it’s been almost two years. I bet she would understand if you found someone else. She would probably want that for you.”
I sat with bated breath in the corner. In the beginning months of my death, I would have disagreed. Even now, I couldn’t claim that thought as my own. But I also knew it was best for him if he could move past me and find another who was lucky enough to be loved by him.
“Seems that everyone is moving into a new season,” Aunt Rose said beside me, appearing next to me out of nowhere. I was no longer surprised when she appeared out of thin air, and I welcomed her regular visits. I knew she had been listening for a while before appearing, knowing she witnessed a lot of the same lives I watched over. I nodded at her sentiment, not even hiding the wistfulness attached to the reality. “Oh, don’t be sad, Rachel,” she said, smoothing my hair and leaning my head against her chest like a child. I let myself be babied by her, needing someone to feel sorry for me.
“They don’t need me anymore,” I lamented.
“No, but they’ll always love you,” Aunt Rose told me.
“Not if John finds someone else,” I glowered. Aunt Rose made soothing noises, continuing to brush my hair.
“I have a feeling you will always hold a special place in John’s heart,” Aunt Rose said.
I hoped she was right.
Even still, it troubled me that it was Sara’s face on John’s mind as he drifted off to sleep in his new bed, and not mine.
Back in the city, Sara’s mind was also on John and the night they shared. She tried to block it out, but it kept coming back to haunt her. Even the next day, as she prepared for her lunch with Kevin, she couldn’t help wishing she were getting ready to meet with John instead.
“Knock it off, Sara,” she said aloud to herself, shaking the images that haunted her from her mind. Megan was already at school when she walked Lily over to the neighbor’s house to be watched for a few hours. Sara caught a taxi on the corner and directed him to the restaurant Kevin had texted her mid-morning. He was already there and seated, and he waved at her from their table. Even though he looked confident and handsome in his usual suit and tie, Sara could note a sense of nervousness beneath his demeanor.
“Hey!” he said, his enthusiasm evident as he jumped up to pull her chair out for her before taking his seat next to her. “Thank you for meeting me here.” Sara thought he seemed…kind. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Something tells me I might want something strong,” Sara said, only half-joking. He chuckled at this.
Looking around, he caught the eye of their server, who came to the table. “Two Old-Fashioneds, please.” They made small talk while they waited for their drinks, discussing the kids and how fast they were growing, and chatting about the flower shop and some office gossip at his job. When the drinks were placed in front of them, Kevin still didn’t get to the point, and say what this was about. The pit in Sara’s stomach was getting bigger and deeper by the moment and she had the sudden urge to beat him to the pun
ch, forcing him to lay it all out on the table. Taking a deep sip of her drink, she prayed for a bit of liquid courage and began.
“Megan said you were talking about divorce at your house,” she blurted out. The look on Kevin’s face was more shock than confirmation.
“Are you finding out information about me through the girls?” he asked her. Sara shook her head, her eyes widening at the prospect.
“No! Not at all! But she was asking me about it. She didn’t know what it meant when she heard you talking about it, and wanted to know what it was. When I explained it to her, she got mad. And Lily wanted to know if we were getting one.”
“What did you tell her?” Kevin asked.
“I told her I didn’t know,” Sara said. “Because I don’t.”
Kevin was silent after this, leaving an uncomfortable pause lying on the table right next to the fragrant appetizers and bourbon drinks. Sara squirmed under the crushing weight of the silence.
“Kevin, why did you ask me to meet you today?” she asked, unable to avoid the elephant in the room any longer. Her eyes flashed, begging him to just rip the band-aid off the unanswered questions holding their marriage together by a thread. He took in a deep breath before letting it out.
“I was talking about divorce this weekend,” he began. “I didn’t think Megan could hear me when I was on the phone. Did she tell you anything else?” he asked.
“No,” Sara said. “Were you talking to your mother?”
For just a moment, Sara was hopeful. He shook his head. Sara held very still. “Was it a woman?” He nodded. His confirmation was a punch to her gut, and she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She wanted to leave, picking up her purse to get ready to flee. But when he reached for her hand to stop her from going, she didn’t fight him. “Do you love her?” she asked him.
“I barely know her,” he said. She could see the truth in his face, and understood there would be no lies at this table. “Sara, she asked me if I was going to divorce you. I had just started seeing her. I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone else, and she wanted to know if I was serious about her.”
A Symphony of Cicadas Page 20
