The Goat Children
Page 23
“No, they’re here,” Oma said. “I told you they’d come for me.”
Domenick’s guests glanced our way, and a woman whispered behind her hand. Her male compadre laughed.
“Look, I’ll be right back, and then I’ll call Uncle Jan.” I slipped into the crowd before my grandmother could say anything else.
I had dressed up for the occasion, but it made me out of place in Oma’s long blue velveteen skirt and pink shirt. Stylish vintage had seemed the right choice for a ritzy birthday party, but it no longer seemed stylish. The men and women in Domenick’s family dressed the same— nice pants and nice shirts. My classmates wore jeans and name brand shirts. Old Navy reprimanded my outdated ensemble.
People stared at me as I brushed past them. “Excuse me.”
A boy from my English class said, “Hey, look, it’s Jessica.”
Another boy from the same class corrected him. “Nah, I think her name’s Keziah or something.”
Keziah or something…. I don’t belong here.
I spotted Olivia making a call on her cell phone near an open bathroom door.
“Hey, Olivia?”
“Hey.” Olivia looked up, nodded, and went back to her phone.
“Do you know where Domenick is?”
“He’s in the kitchen. There was some issue with his birthday cake.”
“Okay, thanks.” I turned away, but Olivia’s voice broke through my rush.
“You know, I didn’t expect to see you here. You aren’t exactly sociable.”
I paused. “I have a lot going on. I don’t have time to be sociable.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?” I jumped. “You have no idea what I’m going through with my grandmother.”
“My grandmother has Alzheimer’s,” Olivia interrupted. “I know exactly what you’re going through. She lives with us for now, but we have no idea how long that is going to last. Every day I wait to see if she’s going to look at me and not remember who I am.”
I licked my lips. Olivia had never mentioned her grandmother before. The girl had her gaze on the cell phone, so I couldn’t read her expression. “I’m … I’m so sorry. I … I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I don’t like to tell people. I feel like they’re going to look at me and wonder if I’m going to get like that someday, too. Don’t think you’re so special, Keziah, just because you have to look after your grandmother. A lot of us have stuff like that to do. We just don’t fling it around like it’s the end of the world. You want attention, and I get that.”
Still looking at her phone, Olivia tapped her thigh, caught in skin-tight leopard print pants. “I do a lot of things for attention. It’s just who I am, and it’s who you are, so get over it. Get over yourself.”
How do I respond to that?
“Be thankful you get this opportunity,” Olivia went on. “You get to live with your grandmother. You get to spend time with her, just like what I get to do. I thank God every day for blessing me with my family. Then, I take each day one hour at a time. You get what I’m trying to say?” Olivia lifted her gaze off the cell phone’s glowing screen. “Do you?”
I was blessed. Every day I learned something new about Oma, whether it was my grandmother’s favorite color, which varied day by day, or her favorite food, something else that varied depending on the hour. I got to spend this time with her.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I do get what you’re trying to say.” Olivia didn’t want to be harsh, just truthful. She said what I needed to hear.
“I have to go outside, the reception in here sucks.” Olivia snapped her phone shut. “See you later, Keziah.”
“See you later,” I echoed.
Out of everyone I’d met in New Winchester, I liked Olivia the best. Even if she was odd, she was also the most down to Earth person, and she got what I went through every day.
Maybe, if Oma was in a good mood, I could invite Olivia over sometime.
****
I found Domenick in the kitchen, arguing with a man who looked just like him, only thirty years older.
“I hate marble cakes,” Domenick said. “I told you I hate marble.”
“Your mom loves marble. She’s the one who picked it up,” his dad said.
“But I hate marble!”
“It’s not the end of the world,” his dad shot back.
I pulled the gift card out of my purse and hovered in the doorway. Your dad’s right. It isn’t the end of the world.
“Where do you want the cake?” his dad snapped.
“What does it matter what I want?” Domenick turned away and faced me. “Hey.” His face reddened. “Kez, you made it!”
“Yeah.” I hated the way his dad wracked his gaze over my body, as if appraising me to sell. “Here, this is for you. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks!” He accepted the card and patted my arm. “I’m glad you could come.”
I thought of his dad glowering in the background, and the classmates who didn’t remember my name. I thought of how Olivia had called me antisocial.
“You know,” I offered a smile, “I’m really glad I could come, too. There’s someone I’d love for you to meet.”
“Really?”
His dad had his back to us as he fiddled in a silverware drawer, so I took Domenick’s hand. “My grandmother.”
****
“I can’t believe she really came,” Domenick said as we weaved through bodies to get to the living room.
“Today’s one of her good days.”
“Right.” Domenick said the word as if he understood.
It felt good to have his hand wrapped around mine. Domenick, warm and solid.
I felt safe with Domenick, a sensation I hadn’t realized I missed. When was the last time I’d actually felt safe?
Back in the city? No, in New York City, I felt anxious because Phebe was my responsibility. I loved my little sister, but sometimes I wanted to hang out with Tiffany during the day when she was off from school or skipping. Even though my sister wasn’t an annoying brat, I knew Tiffany resented the younger presence.
The last time I’d felt safe was when we had all lived in New Winchester.
Domenick and I rounded the hallway to enter the living room.
The couch was empty. I froze, but Domenick kept walking, jerking to a halt when I didn’t budge.
“Kez?”
“Where is she?” I yanked my hand free of Domenick’s. “Oh my gosh, no, I left her on the couch! Where is she?”
I ran to the couch and picked up one of the toss pillows before throwing it on the floor, even though I knew Oma couldn’t hide behind it.
“Domenick, she isn’t here. Oma isn’t here!”
“Kez, calm down. Chill.” Domenick grabbed my arm. “She probably just went to the bathroom.”
“I told her to stay right here. She wouldn’t have gone to the bathroom.” I turned in a circle. The faces of strangers blurred together. No one glanced over. I looked at the plant Oma had thought was a Goat Child, and I wished I spoke vegetation, so I could ask it where my grandmother had gone.
“Keziah, she’s got to be here. We’ll find her. Calm down.”
“No, it’s a big house.” My voice shook.
In my mind, I heard Mama screaming, “How immature can you be? You know how Oma is. How on Earth could you have left her alone in a strange house?”
“I can’t believe it.” My legs gave out, dropping me onto the couch. I hid my shakig hands beneath my thighs. “I can’t believe I just left her here. I’m so stupid.”
“Hey,” Domenick called to a man standing nearby. “Did you see the woman who was sitting on the couch?”
“What? No. Happy birthday, Dom. Hey, where’s your dad?”
Domenick didn’t answer as he moved to a woman, asking her the same question about Oma. As she shook her head, I bolted off the couch to ask a different man.
“Excuse me, sir! I left my grandmother sitting on the couch, and now she’s not there. Did you
see where she went?”
“Uh, no.” The man eyed me.
“Honey, I saw her.”
I whipped around to face another man. “You did? Where is she now?” Domenick slid his hand over my back.
The man popped a mini bagel into his mouth. “The poor woman was bored. She can’t hear well, can she?”
“No, she can’t. Where is she?” My heart hurt as it beat faster.
“I showed her the balcony. It has a lovely view of the lake.”
“You…you took her outside?” The colors in the room brightened. “Where is the balcony?” A roaring built in my ears. The room spun. No, I won’t faint. Oma’s fine.
“Over here, come on.” Domenick tugged me toward the doorway.
“I knew it would give her something interesting to do,” the man said. “She said all the noise was bothering her ears, poor thing. It’s nice and quiet on the balcony. I was just out there myself a little while ago.”
I wanted to punch him. How dare you take my grandmother off somewhere?
“Here it is.” Domenick led me toward two glass doors covered by sheer white curtains and balanced by two oval tables on either side. Fake pink flowers sprouted from the skinny necks of vases on the tables. A woman stood beside the table on the left eating a mushroom puff .
“Kathy,” the man called to the woman. “Remember the old lady I led out there? Is she still there, or did she come back in?”
She’s still out there, Ed.”
I broke away from Domenick to grab the brass handles on the doors. They moved soundlessly, and I yanked them open, stepping into the chill winter air.
The balcony was empty.
“Oma?”
Snow fell from the clouds above. Light spilled out of the windows and from the room behind me, but otherwise, the night was dark. Across the lake, yellow glows lit up the darkness, lights from other houses.
“Oma.”
“Keziah?” Domenick emerged onto the balcony. “Keziah, where is she?”
“Oma!” From inside the house, a Rihanna song started.
A thin layer of snow coated the cement floor of the small balcony. One set of footprints wandered to the railing. They stopped at the edge, and never turned around.
I ran to the railing, grabbing it as I leaned over. Looking down, all I saw was the darkness of the lake.
“Keziah, come on, she must be inside,” Domenick called, but his voice shook, and when he grabbed my arm, he trembled.
I couldn’t stop shaking. The lake was so dark. I couldn’t see any waves, but there had to be some.
Domenick wrapped his arms around me, yanking me against him. Words dried in my throat.
“But…” Kathy’s voice trailed off. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and punched three new buttons, then cried out, “911? Quick, we need a team of rescue workers. An old woman fell over a railing into Lake Winchester!”
Fell over a railing….
Only one set of footprints.
“No,” I whispered. “No, oh no.”
“I’ll go ask around,” Ed called from inside the house.
Domenick rocked me, but I shoved him away. He let go without protest.
I leaned over the railing as far as I could and he grabbed me around the waist to keep me from tumbling. The lake was so black, so dark.
“Oma!”
****
I am five years old. The neighbor’s cat leaves a dead squirrel on Oma’s front porch. Oma buries the remains under the tree while I sniffle. Even though I hadn’t known the squirrel, it was still a living creature that had a family.
“Life goes on,” Oma says. “All we can do is pay it respect.”
It doesn’t make me feel better. I’m glad she gave it a proper burial, though.
Chapter 31
A crow circled before landing on the top branch of a spindly tree. Another crow followed, cawing before landing on a branch below the first. The tree hung in mottled shadows, everything dull from the thick, gray clouds above. The sun remained hidden, the rays that came through thin and wispy, encircling the world in fog.
Beyond, the city of New Winchester stretched. The houses blended into a hill of faded colors.
“Amen.” The reverend closed his Bible. I looked away from the crows to stare at the ground beneath my feet, the grass dead and brown. The dirt would be muddy if it weren’t frozen. My breath puffed in front of my lips.
I refused to look at the gravestone.
“She was the best grandmother.” My cousin, Jim, sighed.
How do you know? You didn’t live with her. You didn’t take care of her. I clenched my hands into fists, fingernails biting into my palms.
“I remember how many friends she had when she was still able to come to church,” the reverend looked at us as though prompting someone to supply another fond memory.
“When I was little, she would sit me on her lap and read to me for hours,” Uncle Jan said. “I’ll never forget those days.”
She used to do that with me too, when I was little. Tears burned the backs of my eyes and crawled up my throat. A single droplet slid down my cheek. I didn’t brush it away, savoring the way it froze on my skin in the cold air.
“It’s amazing the snow melted for this,” my aunt said.
Is that your fond memory? That you’re thankful the snow melted? I squeezed my eyes shut as another tear fell.
“We’ll always get to come here and speak to her like she’s still with us,” another of my cousins said. He had flown in with his family for the funeral.
I finally allowed myself to look at the stone. My grandfather lay beneath his side of the joint tombstone. Oma wasn’t, though. The authorities had searched the lake, but they’d never found her.
“Things happen to bodies when they’re in the water,” a policeman told me. “Maybe she’ll wash up.”
I didn’t want to think of my grandmother washing up in someone’s yard. Uncle Jan and Mama had waited two weeks for the funeral, just to see if it would be the case.
It hadn’t.
“I’ll always miss her,” Phebe said.
I felt everyone smiling and a surge of pride went through me. Even though Oma had never treated her as she should have, Phebe was sweet enough to offer those words, and she meant them.
Mama pressed Phebe against her front, hands resting on her shoulders. Although they held tissues in their hands, neither tried to wipe away the telltale signs of heartache.
“Keziah?” The reverend’s gentle voice permeated my thoughts. “Would you like to share something?”
My lips parted. He nodded, encouraging me to spill my heart.
What could I say? How sometimes I had resented Oma, but I’d never stopped loving her, even when she yelled at me over something that didn’t make sense? I could talk about how often she had played with me when I was little. How she had been my best friend until we had moved to New York City. I could talk about the times when I’d fed Oma lunch, and my grandmother had thanked me, or how, suddenly, the roles had reversed, and I was in charge of looking after her.
Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
I would never see Oma again, and all the times I had thought wicked things stabbed my heart like poisoned needles. I would never get to laugh with her. We would never walk down to the café for breakfast. It would never be just the two of us again.
I tried to take a breath, but a sob lodged in my throat, and I shuddered. Oma was gone, yet it felt as though she was coming back. Only she was never coming back, and I missed her. There was nothing I could do about it.
Oma.
The reverend still nodded. Uncle Jan stared at the gravestone. My aunt looked at the other stones in the near vicinity. My cousins had downturned mouths. Mama was on the verge of hysterics, Phebe her link to reality, and Dad looked not only mournful, but also remorseful.
“Keziah?” the reverend prompted.
“She went to be with the Goat
Children,” I said.
****
I dropped out of school to be homeschooled again.
“Are you sure?” Mama asked.
I could have a real high school graduation if I wanted, but I declined. My mother got a leave from her school, so she and Phebe lived in New Winchester, taking care of affairs.
Domenick had visited me a week after the incident at his birthday, but I’d been too embarrassed to talk with him much. I’d ruined his special day. I should have never left my grandmother on the couch. I should have never taken her at all. It was all my fault Oma was gone.
My fault. It’s my fault.
Domenick and his parents came to the calling hours, and Ed sent a huge bouquet.
“It was an accident,” Mama told them. “It was her time to go.”
“It was my fault,” I whispered. Domenick’s family shouldn’t feel guilty.
Olivia also came to the calling hours. She hugged me and slipped me a piece of paper with her number scrawled on it.
“Call me, sometime, okay? We can talk when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” I put the paper in my purse, but I knew I would never call. I didn’t know what to say.
Mrs. Naylor didn’t try to touch me, and she didn’t smile. The teacher held her hands over her heart. “Nothing will make you feel better, and I’m sorry we didn’t get our Monday meeting yet. When you come back to school, my door’s open if you ever want some place to sit.”
Sit, not talk.
“Thanks, I’ll probably take you up on that.” I felt glad the journalism teacher moved on without further ado.
Meg never came to the calling hours. Neither did Marianna or Michael. He’d told Mama he was sorry when she’d first arrived in New Winchester, but otherwise ignored us. Good. Michael hadn’t been what I’d thought at all.
Mama couldn’t bear to go through Oma’s clothes, so Phebe and I did it. We made two piles. The first went in the garbage. It involved Oma’s underwear and socks. The second pile went to the Salvation Army.
We spent a week after the funeral going through everything.
“We can’t keep it all,” Mama said. “Only take what you really want.”