Laine let out a sigh of relief as Daly went to pack her things for the move.
***
Laine kept a close watch over her daughter as they settled into Ann Arbor life. Although her worrisome court TV addiction had passed, Daly remained metaphorically stuck on the couch. She spent her days on campus attending classes on art history and the principles of design. Studying seemed her way of building a fortress inside her head, leaving no space for anything else.
Her ability to create original artwork—the passion that had so impressed the application committee—had all but disappeared. She produced technically beautiful pieces devoid of emotion—an unfortunate reversal.
A piece came to life only when the creator infused it with her own spirit. Without that, the work was nothing more than a few amateur lines scrawled across a parchment.
Mishti came for a visit during winter break. Almost a year had passed since the sisters-in-law had last seen each other, and in that time poor Mishti had been forced to not only mourn the loss of her brother, but also to wait an additional year to marry. Hindu custom did not allow any celebrations immediately following the death of a family member, and she'd made no arguments.
She also brought news of the family in India to share with Daly as they strolled through the Arboretum. "Priya is working at the hospital again. I think she needs it after.... And baby Ritesh is growing so quickly. He's even beginning to talk a little.
"Oh, a few months ago, Jaya asked to be transferred to Delhi. You're surprised, isn't it?" Mishti shook her head. "She's taking care of Mummy-Papa herself. She never wanted to be married, anyway, and makes enough to support them as well. It is for the best. Mummy-Papa have been staying busy by volunteering at a local charity to help young widows. I think this is their way of honoring Kashi's death— Oh no, Dolly! Don't cry, don't cry!"
Daly sniffed back her tears, unsure whether Mishti's presence comforted her or just reminded her of what she'd lost.
"Chai-ji is unable to understand that Kashi died, I think. Instead, she assumes he is living happily in America with you. She expects some more great-grandchildren any day, but anyway...." Mishti twiddled her thumbs. "I'm going to receive my MBA in the spring. Isn't that great?"
"Yes," Daly said, smiling wanly.
Everyone in India has moved on, so why can’t I?
"My dear Jimish has a job lined up for me in his company. Isn't that sweet? Mummy-Papa don't like it, though. They think me working with him all day, then also being together at night, will be bad for our marriage. I think it's amazing I get to spend that much time with him!" She lowered her eyelashes as though feeling guilty for having found happiness in love.
Daly gave her a reassuring hug. "Spend as much time together as you can," she said gently.
Mishti pulled ahead. "This is amazing!" She pranced down the wooded trails of the Arboretum. "I never knew God's work could be so pretty." She ran back and circled Daly. "You must be so happy to live in such a beautiful place, isn't it?"
Happy? What's that? I can't remember. Daly shrugged. A thin layer of ice coated the trail and at her next step, she slipped, flailing her arms. Luckily, she managed to stay on her feet.
"Careful." Mishti slowed to a leisurely pace and held Daly's arm.
They walked silently down the trails and through the graceful, deciduous graveyard.
"Sometimes, I think about why God took Kashi away," Mishti said some time later. "I still don't know the answer, but there must have been a reason."
Daly said nothing.
Mishti pressed on. "Where do you think the spirit goes after leaving the body?"
Daly's gaze shifted toward the fluffy clouds. The high brume mirrored the snow on the ground, making her feel as if she were trapped inside a novelty snow globe. She belonged to the miniature town resting happily within its bubble, waiting for some dastardly, God-like figure to come and shake the whole thing up.
"If I had a choice, I'd come some place like this," Mishti said. "Imagine floating with the breeze, looking down, and watching all the people. It must be so nice!"
Daly stared at the open field in the distance, letting Mishti continue this deep conversation alone.
"If reincarnation is true, Kashi would be a little baby—well, depending on if the spirit enters the baby at birth or while it's still in the belly. But if Kashi was born again on the same day as his death, then he would be learning to crawl now."
Daly thought of little Elijah and his mother, hundreds of miles away. She had snow and they had sunshine. Now she missed her husband and her best friend.
Meghann called from time to time, but not nearly enough, her schedule crammed with work or taking care of Eli.
"I bet he's a really cute and happy baby!" Mishti gushed. "Maybe one day—"
"Please, Mishti," Daly cut in, refocusing on the distant scenery. "Don't do this. I can't."
Her voice fell off, and she began to cry. It always surprised her how many tears her body could produce. They should have run out months and months ago, yet here they were again, continuing to flow.
"Dolly bhabi, I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I miss him, too." Mishti embraced her. "It's not fair, is it?"
"No." Daly shook Mishti's arms away and rubbed a finger at the corner of her eye, then turned back to the path. "It's really not."
***
Spring break arrived, and Daly lugged suitcases down the stairs. "Mom, the taxi's here!" Her heart raced at the thought of seeing her best friend. Somehow this was the happiest she'd been in months.
Meghann seemed equally happy to see them. She showered both Laine and Daly with gifts she'd bought using her Target employee discount: a Pyrex cooking set for Laine, and a copy of Oliver Twist. She bought Daly a beautiful silk party dress and heels to match, because "sometimes you just need to go dancing."
Aunt Ruth gave the visitors their space, but always had a smile on her face and a story to tell during their nightly meals together. Having never married or had children of her own, she doted on both Meghann and Elijah, happily watching the little one while Meghann went to work, and even hiring a babysitter so she and Meghann could go to the movies every Thursday night.
Aunt Ruth had canceled their standing date to allow the women additional time to bond. They chose to spend it in the kitchen.
"I'm saving whatever I can," Meghann explained to Laine as they baked chocolate chip cookies. "Then, when Eli starts kindergarten, I'm going to enroll in community college." She beamed. In four years, she'd be twenty, the same age as her prospective class peers. "I want to be a social worker, like you. You've helped me so much. I hope I'll be able to do the same for somebody else."
Laine hugged her and smiled. "Daly, come try a cookie," she called. "Meghann developed the recipe herself. They're really good."
"I took the basic Tollhouse recipe and modified it a little," Meghann admitted. "Like I always said, a good mom needs to have plenty of cookies on hand, even though Elijah is still too young for them. I enjoy them enough for the both of us." She lifted a cookie onto a colorful paper plate, left over from Eli's first birthday the previous week.
Daly thought back to what Mishti had said. If reincarnation was true, Kashi's new body would be roughly the same age as Eli. She tried to visualize what he might look like, and laughed to herself.
Guilt!
She wasn't allowed to be happy yet.
She immediately wiped her mind clean and focused on the warmth of the gooey cookie.
***
After the brief vacation, Daly's program advisor called her to the office. She slunk into his office and chewed on her nails, refusing to take a seat.
"I'm not sure if your interests have changed or if maybe now just isn't the right time for you. Your grades are outstanding, but your passion is... lacking." His brows pinched together. "You're always welcome to come back to us, but don't waste another two to three years if this isn't the right fit for you."
Daly mulled over the advice. Did she even have a
passion for the art form anymore? Her muse had died both figuratively and literally. So had her dream. But if she dropped out of school, how could she burden her mother for support? Eventually, she'd have to take care of herself.
Maybe she should reconsider nursing school. After all, what other choice did she have?
Chapter 20
When you wish upon an ancient Indian pillar....
Daly had ignored her sketch diary for months, having placed the journal in the bottom of one of her moving boxes, then completely forgetting its existence. Until now.
She returned from the meeting with her supervisor, ready to do some serious soul-searching, and found the journal on her nightstand, the spine flush with the left-most edge of the table. It had returned as if from thin air, which only meant one thing: Laine.
Did she look through this? Did she understand any of what's here?
Daly chewed on a fingernail while her mind raced. Many of the entries from her young adulthood related to the estrangement and subsequent anger in her relationship with her mother. Did Laine understand art well enough to capture the meaning? Did she understand Daly enough?
Daly flipped through the musty pages of the nearly twenty-year-old journal. She smiled at the faded Lisa Frank cover image—a unicorn.
The journal flipped open to a sketch of the Iron Pillar. Jagged edges were all that remained from the page ahead—from when she thought Kashi had abandoned her. She ran her finger up and down the frayed paper, wishing she'd never torn him so dramatically from her life.
No, it wasn't too late. She could bring him back—an arc to replicate the curve of his spine, gentle wisps to capture his beautiful curls.
This was ridiculous. Kashi would never come back. She needed to admit that, even if she couldn't move on. Besides, she couldn't focus on his image without tears welling behind her eyes, and a sloppy version of him would be disgraceful to his memory.
She flipped to the image of her father. Another love lost. Even this last memento was worn, almost completely gone. Everything was fading away.
In just a couple days, the first anniversary of Kashi's death would arrive. She dreaded the unhappy day, knowing it would bring those horrible emotions to the surface once again. At least she would be with him. She planned on visiting the zoo, where she'd relive their first date, visit her long-neglected pet flower, and dedicate an entire garden to his memory. Without a gravesite for Kashi, Daly had come to think of the zoo as his cemetery, visiting as often as she could drum up enough strength to take the trip.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
She clapped the sketch diary closed and tucked it under her thigh. "Come in," she called.
Laine entered, her face expressionless, but her voice kind. "Daly, I made plans for us. On Friday."
Daly just nodded.
"I spoke with a nice man at the Willow Run Airport. He's going to take us up in his Cessna Skyhawk. That's the same plane Daddy used to have, you know. I wanted to tell you now, so you had time to prepare."
Daly fingered the journal underneath her leg, scratching at the edges of the pages. "What makes you think I want to go up in a plane? Don't you remember how Kashi died?"
"Daly...." Laine's eyes drifted to the journal's exposed spine. "Of course, I understand. I know it's going to be very hard for you, but it's something you need to do. Actually, we both need to."
She raised her journal to Laine. "Did you go through this?"
"I did. Please, promise me you'll think about the plane." Laine walked out, latching the door gently behind her.
Daly listened to make sure her footsteps moved away, then pulled the journal out and placed it back onto her lap. Her mother wanted her to fly. What had once been a favorite childhood memory now filled her with dread. She stiffened on her bed, fear pulsing through her entire body. How could she possibly take to the skies again?
Sometime later, Laine reentered and sat beside Daly on the twin mattress. The coils sagged beneath them. "I think we should talk a bit more."
Daly swung her feet, softly kicking the wooden bed frame.
"I wanted to explain why it's important for us to ride in that plane."
Daly brought one knee up and rested her chin on it.
"Before Daddy died, he asked me to visit him in the sky from time to time. He said since he lived his life in the clouds and sunshine, he'd probably spend his death among them, too. I never once did what he asked." Laine gulped.
"It hurt too much, so I never went. I got rid of everything in the house that reminded me of him. In a lot of ways, I even got rid of you." She dropped her head back past her shoulders and let it hang for a moment.
"I realize it wasn't fair. You were missing your daddy and you needed me to help you through. More than anything, I wish I could've shown you it's okay to be sad, but it's not okay to stay sad forever."
Daly squeezed her mother's hand. Laine had never spoken with her about her father's death.
"When I looked through your sketchbook, I discovered you were just like me. Daly, I pictured you nine years from now, stuck in the same rut, not living your life because you didn't know how to get past the hurt. That's my fault. I want to deal with the truths I've been avoiding for such a long time. I want to keep my promise to Daddy."
Laine took Daly's other hand in hers and pressed them together. "I need you to come with me. For support, yes, but also because you need healing, too. Perhaps we'll be able to give each other the strength and courage neither of us has alone, and together we can begin to move on."
Then her mother did something Daly hadn't seen her do in years.
She wept.
Tears streamed down Daly's cheeks while she held her mother, and together they cried for all they had lost. For once, Daly was glad Laine had come to her. She pulled her mother's head under her chin and shut her eyes.
***
Daly slept soundly, save for one dream. An infant cried from somewhere inside a decrepit old mansion. The house appeared unstable, ready to collapse at the slightest movement. She'd have to risk her life to save the baby, but what choice did she have? She walked at first, then ran, searching frantically. Finally, she found the child dangling from a broken chandelier some fifty feet in the air.
No, please, no!
How could she ever manage to rescue him in time? Suddenly, she began to float like a levitating yogi. She grabbed the baby, and just kept rising. The roof opened to let them through, and Daly looked down, watching the building collapse and vanish.
She landed on a cloud and unwrapped the baby blanket, surprised to find she was staring down at her own face.
Tumbling out of the dream as if off her cloud, Daly finally had the clarity she needed.
She switched on her gooseneck study lamp, removed her journal from the desk drawer, opened it to the very last page, and started to write.
~~~
Dear Kashi,
It's been almost a year since you left me, and I still miss you every day. Before, I wondered why fate would send you to me only to take you away again. Now I know you were never meant to stay.
It may sound a bit selfish, but I believe you were an angel sent to teach me the way. I have learned the lesson. Thanks to you, I will be all right. I still miss you and think about you all the time. I hope wherever you are—be it Heaven, Earth, or some other place I know nothing about—there is lots of laughter. I know you will continue bringing joy to the world.
Love Forever,
:-)
~~~
Daly kissed the letter and then padded on her bare feet to the garden outside. Standing in the cold April air, she took a moment to look toward the sky.
At last, she dug a small hole in the earth, gathered some kindling, and dropped a bundle of shredded paper into the mix. The flick of a match started the fire, and the flames danced their way to life, growing strong and fast. When the blaze glowed hot, she pushed her sketch diary down into the center. It was time to let go.
Somehow the smoke s
melled like palak paneer.
One last time, she sifted through all the memories contained in those pages, then walked away.
***
Friday morning, Laine and Daly walked into the private airport. Daly held the coffee tin filled with her journal's ashes. She hardly noticed the camera her mother had tucked into her back pocket.
The pilot met them outside the hangar. "Ready to take 'er up?" he asked, pulling at his coffee and grinning.
Laine extended her hand. "Thank you again for doing this."
"Any time, any time at all." He winked, bringing crimson to Laine's cheeks. The pilot ushered them into the back of the tiny aircraft. "Up over Pinckney, you say?"
Laine nodded.
"Shouldn't take too long. Let's do it." He poured the rest of his coffee onto the tarmac, wiped his forearm across his lips, and slapped the side of the plane before hoisting himself inside.
The engine roared to life. The front blade spun in a blur, so fast it looked like a still, solid shape.
Daly's heart leapt into her throat. Flying meant death, not new beginnings. She focused on her breathing: in-out, in-out.
She hugged the tin, a physical reminder of why she'd come, and glanced toward her mother; Laine's attention remained fixed on the scenery outside the window. Daly reached over and took her hand, glad they would make the trip together.
When the plane reached the state recreation area at Pinckney, the pilot swung low. Large hills rose high on the horizon, peppered with narrow hiking trails. One swoop lower and a sparkling lake came into view. A few teenagers splashed merrily in the surf. Daly felt a prick of recognition.
Laine yelled above the noise of the engine, "We came here sometimes when you were little. This is the landscape from your mural."
A Colorful Life: Drawn in Broken Crayon Page 23
