The Tea Series

by Sheila Horgan

  I couldn’t listen to Teagan crying on the line.

  I handed the phone to A.J. and said, “Find out what hospital.” Even to my own ears I sounded so calm.

  Then it all fell apart.

  I felt like I had just run a marathon.

  I couldn’t catch my breath, and I felt shaky.

  I made it into the kitchen before I threw up. I never use the kitchen sink. That’s just wrong. I didn’t care.

  A.J. rubbed my back. “Cara…”

  “Please, don’t talk. Just take me to Daddy.”

  “Two minutes.”

  I’m not even sure what he did or how long it took, but next thing I knew, we were in the car and headed for the hospital.

  Mom would like the fact that it was the Catholic one.

  She’d be more comfortable with Daddy there.

  A priest.

  I needed to call a priest.

  I never put Billy’s number in my phone because he’d been at the same rectory forever, and I knew the number by heart.

  I couldn’t think of it to save my soul.

  I looked up the number while A.J. drove.

  Billy answered on the second ring. I choked out that my Dad was in the hospital and that I wasn’t sure how bad it was but I was sure that it was really bad because my mom had been in the car, and I started to cry so hard that he knew exactly what had happened.

  I couldn’t say she had died.

  If my Dad didn’t make it, I’d be an orphan.

  I cried all the way to the hospital.

  When we got there, A.J. ushered me to a waiting room. Not sure how he knew where to go, probably texts, but I didn’t see him playing with his phone when we were in the car. That’s probably what happened to my parents. Some asshole texting while they were supposed to be driving.

  The accident couldn’t have been my father’s fault. He’s such a careful driver. He always says that his grandkids are out on those roads.

  But accidents happen.

  I can’t even imagine what I would do if I caused an accident that killed someone’s mother.

  I’d never drive again, that’s for sure.

  Troya was there. Her roommate was holding her tight. She was in normal clothes, and he was in scrubs, so I’m guessing he was at work and she was at home.

  Seamus and Valerie were there. Seamus was clenching his jaw so tight that his whole face was red. Valerie was sitting in a chair to his right. She was crying softly. I said a quick prayer for the baby. After all that Suzi went through when she was pregnant, I’m now confident that babies are sturdy little people, but still.

  Teagan was there. She’d arrived just moments before I did. Right after I got there, Jessie came rushing up. She fell into his arms, all their problems forgotten for the moment. Hearing her sob set the rest of us off, again.

  We’d just calmed down when Sinead walked in. She looked so tiny. “What happened?”

  Seamus answered. “Mom and Dad were driving home from an appointment. Not sure what they were doing.”

  “Mom told me this morning that they were going somewhere to plan their next trip to Ireland. This summer or next.” That brought fresh tears. Mom would never see Ireland again. Thank God that Daddy took her once.

  “They were T-boned. Hit Mom’s side of the car. She was killed on impact. Dad probably doesn’t know. He was out when the first people got to the car. Witnesses said that the crash was so violent, they assumed both of them had died. The woman that hit them tried to leave the scene, but those same witnesses stopped her.”

  “Tried to leave? Wasn’t she hurt?”

  “Yes. She’s in the hospital. Non-life threatening injuries.”

  “Why? How would she leave if she was hurt?”

  Seamus clenched his jaw even tighter. No doubt he will be paying for some dental work soon. “They say that when you’re drunk, you can do things like that.”

  “Drunk? What do you mean?”

  “Intoxicated. She blew more than twice the legal limit.”

  “But it wasn’t even noon.”

  “This isn’t the first time, either. The cop that talked to me said she has been arrested more than once. He said that at least this time, she didn’t have her kids in the car.”

  I fell back into the nearest chair.

  How could this be? My mother murdered? Killed by a drunk driver? An O’Flynn? We don’t even really drink. There’s never been any of us, not one of us, that has gotten behind the wheel after even having one drink. We did everything right. We followed the rules. We acted responsibly. How could it be that a drunk driver killed one of us? The most important one of us.

  Rory and his wife showed up, but I hardly noticed. Teagan asked where the kids were. They were at her mom’s.

  Next, Morgan showed up. She didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t make us repeat it all. She just tried to comfort Valerie.

  Maeve had come straight from the gym. That’s what had caused the delay. She didn’t answer when Seamus called the first time. About half an hour later, her girlfriend showed up. What a way to get to know the family.

  Liam showed up last. He was absolutely gray. He made it as far as the chair that Morgan was sitting in, fell to the floor in front of her, his head in her lap, and cried. He cried like I’ve never seen anyone cry before. It was never a secret in our family that Liam was Mom’s favorite.

  Was.

  How can that be?

  Six hours later, the doctor came out and told us that Daddy was still alive, which was a miracle, but that it would be touch and go. The next twenty-four hours would be telling. It was going to be a long and difficult process for him. The thing the doctor made most clear was that they were keeping him sedated, and we weren’t to tell him that Mom had not made it. It would be a few hours before he was awake enough for us to be of any use, so we should probably go home and rest.

  The hospital has a hospice waiting room.

  It’s where family goes and waits for their loved one to die.

  I know that sounds cynical, but I don’t have the energy to think of a nicer way to put it.

  Troya made arrangements for us to use the room.

  It had a couch, a couple of chairs, a TV, and a little counter.

  We took over the place.

  We ate in the cafeteria.

  We took the cushions off the couch and spread them on the floor, then took turns sleeping on one or the other.

  We took showers in a room they weren’t using.

  The married-ins came and went but for the next three days, the O’Flynns never left.

  Mom would want it that way.

  You pay for the living and pray for the dead.

  That’s what she always told us.

  If we’d left my father, she would never forgive us.

  Ever.

  I’m gonna have nightmares about that decision for the rest of my life.

  We’ve used the same funeral home since my grandparents moved to the area. They were so nice to us. They came to the hospital and let us make arrangements from the hospice waiting room. Mom had decided years ago that she wanted to be cremated. The minute the church said it was okay, even if it wasn’t preferred, Mom made it clear that’s what she wanted. We decided as a group that if Daddy wasn’t going to be able to make a funeral — the traditional Irish kind — that we would have Mom cremated and then we would have a service after Dad was out of the hospital.

  I should say here that I am ashamed of myself.

  More than I can put into words.

  When it came time to tell Daddy that Mom hadn’t made it, I wasn’t there.

  I couldn’t be the one to tell him, and I couldn’t watch as someone else did.

  In the end, we decided that Seamus would tell Daddy and that he would do it alone.

  All the shitty things I’ve ever said, thought, or tried to convince others of are all wrong. I can’t believe how strong Seamus was. He actually volunteered to tell Daddy so that the rest of us wouldn’t have to. At one po
int, we decided we would all tell him together, but then we decided that it would be too much for him to deal with.

  I’m not sure exactly what happened in Daddy’s hospital room, but I can tell you that in the hospice waiting room, we all lost it. Again.

  I’ve never cried so hard. Never been so hurt. I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay again.

  In the three days that Daddy was touch and go, two of those days were spent with us also trying to figure out what to do about a funeral. I’ve lost so much weight that I don’t have a single thing I can wear to Mom’s service. Not that I care, but it’s a sign of respect, and I’m not going to disrespect my mother. After talking to Billy, we found out that it’s expected that Mom have a regular funeral. It’s a Catholic thing. Mom would want that.

  The doctor said that Daddy cannot attend the funeral.

  At first, I thought he was going to fight it, but then he decided it didn’t matter.

  Not good.

  Not good at all.

  For Daddy to say that something like Mom’s funeral doesn’t matter made alarms ring in my head. It was the same as saying that life doesn’t matter any more.

  My parents aren’t that old, but you know how when old people lose their partner, the other one sometimes just follows them? I’m worried that Daddy is going to follow Mom.

  I can’t be an orphan.

  I don’t know how to be a motherless child. I sure as hell don’t know how to be an orphan.

  This can’t be happening.

  NINE

  I CAN’T REMEMBER the last time I slept. Oh, I’ve dozed a little bit here and there, but real sleep, nope.

  I look like crap.

  I’ve aged about a hundred years.

  My hair is falling out, which doesn’t matter, ‘cause it went all dry and yucky anyway.

  In the shower this morning, getting ready for the funeral home, I lost it. I just leaned up against the wall and cried. I’m not sure how long I was in there, because after a while, A.J. came in, turned off the water, picked me up, and carried me to our bed. He put me down so gently I felt like a little girl again. He covered me up with a blanket. Just like Mom used to do when I didn’t feel good.

  I keep waiting for the busy part to kick in. You know, when something terrible happens, and you get so busy doing stuff that you can put aside the mourning part while you’re busy. But that isn’t happening.

  We decided we would do a viewing and rosary tonight and then a funeral and mass tomorrow morning. Then a small wake. I don’t think even our funeral home can hold off much longer. There just has to be a limit to how long you can wait for a funeral. I don’t want to think about that part of it. Daddy might be in the hospital for a long time. He cried, but he said we should go ahead. Seamus talked to him about it. I don’t think I could have. I haven’t seen my dad cry about it yet. I know it’s gonna kill me all over again.

  When Daddy gets out of the hospital, we can decide if he wants to do another service or not.

  Whatever he wants is what we’ll do.

  The funeral home will have Mom ready when I get there. I’m just going to do her hair and makeup. They’ll already have her dressed and everything.

  Everyone always thought I was crazy when I used to do this for the people Mom wanted me to. Like Bernie. Mom always told me it was practice for when she died. I always assumed she would be so old that my limited skills would be enough.

  I was wrong.

  So wrong.

  I’m not Teagan. I can’t do this right. But Teagan doesn’t do this at all, so Mom is just going to have to live with it.

  Live with it.

  I cried some more.

  I’m never going to be okay again.

  I miss my mom so much.

  At first, my dad said he didn’t want to know any of the details of the service. Then it dawned on him — about the same time it dawned on everybody else — that he would at least know when we were at the service because we wouldn’t be at the hospital.

  Each of us took on one responsibility. I’d do my mom’s makeup and hair and buy her an outfit. I don’t know why my dad wanted her to wear something new, but that’s what he wanted, so that’s what we’d do.

  When I got to the hospital after picking out the dress, my sister Maeve had told my father that if she didn’t like the dress that Mom was not going to wear it. She said something about my taste in clothes and not being able to pick out something appropriate for Mom. For a split second, I was pissed. How dare she make a comment like that when she wasn’t willing to do anything about buying the outfit herself?

  I calmed myself down immediately.

  We are not going to be one of those families that fight over things like this. If Maeve doesn’t like the dress, we’ll figure something else out.

  Fortunately, Maeve approved, so there was no other drama.

  Billy was there when I got there. He was there for another funeral, but it was still nice. He gave me a big hug and told me how sorry he was. When he started to cry, I lost my mind.

  Originally, A.J. was going to stay with me, but he got a call that the alarm went off at the studio, and Jovanna is out of town, so I told him to just drop me off, and I’d be fine.

  When he’s done at the studio, he can come back and get me. It would give me some time with Mom.

  When I walked into the visitation room, Teagan was sitting in the back pew.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to help with Mom’s makeup.”

  “Didn’t think I could do it?” I tried not to be too mad, but all my life she’s given me a hard time about this kind of stuff, and everything is so raw that I just can’t take much more.

  “Cara, I know how hard this will be for you and how much it means to Mom. I didn’t think you should have to do it alone.”

  We both went to the ugly cry place.

  It’s a place I have inhabited for a while now.

  We walked up to the casket together.

  It was white with almost no adornment. Seamus did good. Just the way Mom would want it. The inside was white with just a little bit of green here and there. I was crying so hard I couldn’t tell what the green was, but I’m assuming it was little shamrocks or something like that.

  Mom was holding her favorite rosary. She’s had that thing so long I can’t remember where it came from. All I know is that it was one of the few things she kept from her childhood. Connemara marble with a big Celtic cross, a Miraculous Medal, and a fancy Sacred Heart. I remember her carrying that rosary to all the important stuff when we were kids. Baptisms and confirmations. Her mother’s funeral. Seamus must have gone to the house and picked it up.

  My phone rang and startled me.

  “She’s out.” The anger vibrated in Rory’s voice.

  “What?”

  “The bitch that killed Mom. She’s out of jail. Posted bail about thirty minutes ago.”

  “I can’t think about that right now, Ror. I’m at the funeral home.”

  “The last family asked if she was going to have to kill somebody before they put her in jail and kept her there. I read it in her reports. Well, the answer is, even when she kills somebody, they still let her out.”

  “There hasn’t been a trial yet.”

  “Don’t give me that shit, Cara. I’m a cop. Or at least I used to be.”

  That sounded the alarm. I grabbed Teagan’s hand and pulled her out into the vestibule. Mom didn’t need to hear this.

  “Rory, what do you mean you used to be a cop?”

  Teagan’s eyes were huge. She leaned in so she could listen.

  “I mean that if this is the way that the legal system works, maybe it’s time for me to find a new job. You know what? The woman that killed Mom? This isn’t her first crash. Not by a lot. She has nine. Count them. Nine!”

  “Nine crashes?”

  “Nine times that she was caught being drunk off her ass. Five of them driving.”

  “How does that even happen? You see
all those commercials. They make it sound like if you’re caught driving drunk that many times, you’re in jail forever.”

  “She’s gotten off. She’s done some community service. She’s gone to rehab. More than once. But she always wiggles out of it. This time, she killed somebody. Mom. You think it’s going to be any different just because the person she killed is Mom? It’s not.”

  “We don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I know what’s gonna happen, Cara. I put these assholes in jail every day. Some judge or do-gooder or juror that can’t find their ass with both hands lets them out, and then you know what they do? They get drunk again and kill my mother. You know how many times I’ve heard ‘but everybody does it’? Like a bunch of five-year-olds. Not everybody gets drunk. Not every drunk gets behind the wheel. I pulled over a woman last night. She gets drunk because she’s a stripper, and she can’t get on stage unless she has had a few. Then the customers buy her a few more. You want to hear what she said to me? She said that a drunk driver killed her brother and that she hates the person that took her brother away. So she drinks some more. What the hell am I doing? I’m not helping anybody. People have lost their damn minds. I’m gonna quit and find a job that pays better, doesn’t get my ass shot at, and I won’t get blamed every time somebody’s precious little darling does something stupid and illegal.”

  “Don’t do that, Rory. Mom wouldn’t want you to do that. You know that. She’s really proud of you being a cop. You’re a great cop. You love the job. The job loves you. You’ve been a cop at heart since you were a little kid. Please, don’t do anything right now. You know Mom wouldn’t want you to.”

  “Yeah? Well, Mom’s not here to talk to me about it, is she? Besides, I already talked to my boss.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “He told me to go home. Take a few days.”

  “That’s good advice.”

  “A few days at home isn’t going to change anything, Cara. Mom is still going to be dead, and that bitch is still going to be out on the street, drunk off her ass.”

  “One thing at a time, Ror. First, we make sure Daddy is okay. As okay as he can be. Then we honor Mom. Then we take care of Daddy. Let the courts take care of everything to do with the accident.”