by Tefft, Cyndi
“Don’t stop,” I said. “That was amazing. You’re really talented, you know that?” He shrugged off the compliment and moved to set up his electronic keyboard. “What song was that? I’ve never heard it before.”
“It’s something I wrote, but I don’t have lyrics for it yet.”
He showed me a techno dance riff he’d recorded on his keyboard and I bobbed my head to the rhythm, contributing vocal trills and singing scales around the base notes as his fingers tickled the keys. The guys came in and quickly set up, adding their own expertise to our makeshift jam session. Dancing in place to the infectious beat, I felt lighter and more alive than I had in weeks. I grinned at Ravi and his eyes twinkled as he returned my smile. A moment of pure, unapologetic joy passed between us with the vibration of the music, and a void deep inside began to heal. At the end, we all laughed and congratulated ourselves on our awesome jam, then got down to business in perfecting a couple of songs we’d been working on.
“Hey, I heard there’s going to be a talent show in May,” Micah said, brushing his sandy brown hair away from his face. “I think first prize is like five hundred bucks or something. Do you guys want to enter?”
“Totally!” Todd chimed in. “I think we should do new material, though, instead of cover tunes, if we want to win,” he said with a pointed gaze at Ravi.
“Well, maybe we could nail down the jam we did tonight and put some words to it. Lindsey, do you want to try and write something?” Ravi asked.
“Uh, sure. Why not? I’ll give it a shot, but no guarantees it will be any good,” I said. The rest of the band promised to try their hand at creative writing as well. I gathered my things at the end of practice, feeling slightly giddy. Ravi walked to the door with me and switched off the light.
“You sounded awesome tonight, Linds. I had no idea you could improvise like that. It was really cool.”
“I didn’t know I could either,” I said, beaming at him. “I guess I just never really tried it before. It was fun. Thanks for asking me to be part of the band.” I touched him affectionately on the arm but then pulled away, fearing he might take it wrong. The easygoing connection between us had been hard won and I didn’t want to lose that. He looked down at my hand and then at my expression and rolled his eyes.
“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me, you know. It’s not like I’m going to freak out and jump on you or anything. I know we’re just friends.” Tension began to seep back into the room. I started to apologize and he sighed, irritated. “Forget it. It’s not a big deal. Goodnight, Lindsey.” I watched him walk away, feeling stupid and wondering how the rift between us could ever be healed.
Chapter 29
For spring break, I went home to stay with my dad in Seattle. When he picked me up at the airport, we walked through the parking garage and he stopped at a car I didn’t recognize: an older white Saturn 4-door sedan with a sunroof and a stick shift. I asked him where the Blazer was and he replied, “I sold it. I figured that I didn’t need that much room anymore now that I’m not carting you and your mom around.”
“So you bought this?”
“Well, actually I bought a black Lexus for me.” He grinned mischievously. “This one’s for you.” He tossed me the keys and laughed as my jaw fell open.
“For me?”
“Yep. I was thinking it’s about time you had a car of your own. I love you and all, but it’d be a heck of a lot more convenient if you could just drive home from school next time instead of me having to pick you up from the airport.” I squealed and gave him a huge hug. He chuckled and squeezed me back, then kissed me on the forehead. “Welcome home, pumpkin.”
During the week, we went out to dinner just about every night, though I was able to talk him into letting me cook a couple of times. I enjoyed making ‘taties and eggs’ for breakfast, though I had to push the image of Aiden out of my head when I did so. Mom called while he was out to tell me that she’d accidentally packed one of my sweaters in her bag. I offered to drive over to her place to retrieve it, but she said she had some errands to do in town and would drop it off. I forgot to mention it to Dad when he returned, so he was completely caught off guard when she showed up on the doorstep. His breath caught when he opened the door to see her standing there.
“Elizabeth. What are you doing here?” His brow creased with worry, but I caught a murmur of hope in his voice.
“I came to return Lindsey’s sweater to her. Didn’t she tell you? I did call.” Dad shook his head blankly, still staring at her. She pursed her lips at me, looking over his shoulder. “You were supposed to tell him. I’m sorry, Gary, I didn’t mean to barge in on you.” He recovered his composure and invited her in. She hesitated, but then put on her brightest smile, the one that said ‘I’m uncomfortable but making the best of this.’ She gave me a quick hug and handed me the sweater, then glanced around the living room. “You changed the decoration,” she said, taking in the new framed prints and tapestry on the wall.
“Yeah, I needed a change of scenery, you could say,” Dad stammered.
“No, I like it. It’s nice.” She picked up a photograph of me from the fireplace mantle and her features relaxed into a real smile. “I remember that day. You were eight years old and got sent home from school for fighting. You were defending another girl from a bully and got punched in the face. We took you out to ice cream and your dad told you that the dessert would feel good on your swollen eye because it was cold. So you plopped the cone on your face before I could tell you he was kidding. You said it helped and he took the picture of you with that crazy ice cream cone stuck on your face. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and we both just about wet our pants when you pulled it off and kept eating it like nothing had happened.”
Dad moved beside her to look at the photograph.
“Yeah, I remember that, too. She tried to lick the drips off with her tongue before you hauled her into the bathroom to get cleaned up.” I giggled and they smiled at me, lost in remembering better times.
“Mom, do you want to come to dinner with us? We were going to go to P.F. Chang’s. We could get your favorite lettuce wraps.”
She set down the photograph and shook her head. “No, I really shouldn’t. I… I should probably go.”
I took hold of her arm, giving her my best puppy dog eyes. “No, stay. Please? I never get to see you. I miss you. Come to dinner. For me?”
She sucked in a breath and fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, a painful expression clouding her face. She turned to Dad, uncertain. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“We’d love for you to join us,” he replied.
She rubbed her hands together and frowned at me, then straightened with decision. “All right, I’ll come. I wouldn’t, but it’s just that I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged me, and I beamed back at her, deliriously happy to have the two of them together again.
Dinner started out quiet as we searched for neutral territory. Mostly, I talked about school and my friends, which classes I liked and those I didn’t. I told Mom about the car Dad got me and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. He shrugged, his cheeks tinged pink.
“I finally closed on that premier property on Mercer Island. Blew the sales figures out of the water, so it was a really good month.” She congratulated him and the table fell silent again.
We shared the family style meals like we’d done so many times before, with Dad automatically saving the pineapple chunks in the sweet and sour pork dish for Mom because she liked that part best. The corner of her mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. I told Dad about my recovery and how the doctor had given me a clean bill of health.
“That’s great, honey. Thank you, Elizabeth, for taking care of her.” Their eyes met and something passed between them as I watched. Mom broke the eye contact and coughed, abruptly excusing herself to use the restroom. “Damn,” Dad muttered under his breath and pushed his chair back, running a hand through his hair. When Mom returned, she’d freshened up her li
pstick and reapplied the forced smile. We wrapped things up in a hurry.
When we got home, Mom gave me a squeeze and bid a courteous good evening to my dad, thanking him for the meal. He simply nodded, his shoulders slumped and his hands in his pockets. When she left, Dad breathed a heavy sigh and went into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He threw it back in one gulp and refilled his glass before heading down to the family room and switching on the television. I could tell he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, so I went to my bedroom to read.
After a couple hours, I glanced at the clock, my eyes tired and scratchy. I yawned and padded down the hall to the bathroom. Blue light from the television glowed in the dark hallway and I crept downstairs to see if Dad had fallen asleep in his chair. The TV was muted but he sat silently staring at it, wet tracks on his cheeks and a half-empty bottle of whisky on the end table next to him.
“Dad, are you all right?” I whispered, afraid to startle him. Dazed, he turned to look at me, his eyes blurry and red.
“No,” was his quiet reply. I sat in the chair next to him and put my hand on his arm.
“Did your mom ever tell you she wanted to be a dancer?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah she mentioned it,” I replied, uneasy.
“She was studying dance when I met her in college, and she was incredible—so strong and yet so small. The way she moved, I can’t even describe it. It was like gravity didn’t have a hold on her.” He paused to take a drink from his glass. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Still is, really. And she laughed at my jokes. I couldn’t believe she wanted to be with me, but by some grace of God, she did. I wanted to marry her from the moment I laid eyes on her, but she had big dreams, your mom.
“She was going to go to New York—to Julliard—and I was so happy for her. I would have followed her, you know. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for her. But then she got pregnant with you.” He stopped and gave me a sad smile, patting my hand.
“She was devastated, but I couldn’t have been happier. We got married and when you came along, she was happy… for a while. She was a great mom but I left her alone too much. I got a corporate sales job and traveled a lot when you were little. I made plenty of money, but I hated being away from the two of you. So I quit and went into real estate so I could pick my own hours. That’s when it was the best. We had the days together because I would show houses to people in the evenings after they got off work, and I took a whole month off in the summer so we could spend it at the cabin.”
He grew quiet and I wondered if he was going to continue. He sniffed and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, then finished his drink. “But when you were gone at school, she was restless. She used to tell me how much she wanted to travel, to see the world, to make something of herself. And I didn’t listen. I had everything I wanted—my wife, my daughter, a flexible job—and I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. I thought if it was enough for me, it should be enough for her. Eventually, she stopped asking and just became bitter and resentful toward me. I tried to make it up to her toward the end, even offered to take her on a cruise, but it was too little, too late.”
My heart ached for him and I tried to make it better. “It wasn’t your fault, Dad. She’s the one who had an affair.”
He flinched but shook his head. “No, it was my fault. I drove her to it. She couldn’t get what she needed from me, so she went somewhere else to find excitement and fulfillment. I was a fool and I lost her because of it.” A tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t even try to wipe it away.
“Nothing’s been the same since she left. She was—well, the two of you were—my whole world. When you went away to college, I was all alone in this empty house every night and the only solace I found was in this damn bottle, trying to forget everything I’d lost. I wanted to die because I had no reason for living once she left. You were the only thing that kept me from killing myself and believe it or not, I actually resented you for it because it meant I had to endure the pain.” He chest shook with a sob and I held on tight to his hand.
“You’re all I have left, pumpkin, because I was stupid and let her go. When she called to tell me you were in that accident, I felt like my heart had been carved out of my chest. If you had died… oh God…” His words became incomprehensible as the grief and pain poured out of him. I got up and sat on his lap with my arms around his neck and he clung to me like a life preserver, his face buried in my shoulder as he cried. Finally, he straightened up and wiped his face with his sleeve.
I felt an overwhelming compulsion to tell him the truth about that night.
“I did die in that accident, Dad. I went to this beautiful place where the ground moved underneath me and the air was a part of me, and where time stopped. It was amazing and wonderful. But God sent me back, back to my body, back to you.” A lump built in my throat and I swallowed hard, but the ache of loss was more than I could bear and I started to cry as well. Dad held me close and whispered words of love and comfort to me as he’d done when I was a child. I dissolved in his arms, releasing the pent up pain and emotion until we were both exhausted.
“Thank you, God, for bringing my baby girl home to me,” Dad whispered to the dark room, the first prayer I’d ever heard him utter, and I repeated it in my head.
Chapter 30
Even with the new car, I was in a melancholy mood when I returned to school after the break. While I appreciated my father’s confiding in me, his sullen state wore me down and I found myself spending long periods of time thinking about Aiden. I couldn’t get him out of my head and as much as I tried to focus on the present, a dense fog had taken up residence in my brain. The long drive back to school by myself hadn’t helped.
Unable to concentrate, I felt as though I were just going through the motions in class. My friends kept asking me if I was all right and I assured them I was fine, but I wasn’t. I spoke to Aiden in my mind constantly, describing to him what I saw, what I felt, what I was thinking. A part of me wanted to believe that if I sunk deep enough into my thoughts that I would somehow hear his voice again. It wasn’t rational, but I wasn’t firing on all cylinders anyway, so logical thought was not a prerequisite. I sank farther into depression day after day and not only was I powerless to stop it, I didn’t really want to.
I dreamt of Aiden that night, his easy smile and his thick Scottish accent as he teased me.
“Sit still!” I said as I tried to paint his portrait. He sat on the stool for a while, his sky blue eyes twinkling at me, but invariably got bored and came to see what I’d painted so far.
“Why, ye haven’t painted a stroke yet, lassie!” he complained and I scolded him for peeking. I frowned at the canvas, which seemed to clear away all my work like an Etch-a-Sketch every time he moved. He took his place again and I started over, outlining the curve of his face, his brow and strong jaw. Just when I’d started to make some progress, he’d jump up and the image would be washed away.
“Don’t! You have to stay put until I’m finished. I keep losing you when you move!” I tried again, but the colors all mixed together as I painted, swimming together in pools of gold and blue. Aiden frowned and I finally gave up, standing to go over to him. But I couldn’t move past the ruined painting. Tears streamed down his smeared face on the canvas. I reached for him and he for me, but the easel stood firmly between us, keeping us apart, mocking me with the barely recognizable image of my love.
“Lindsey, are you okay?” Stephanie’s voice woke me as her hand lightly pressed on my shoulder. My wet pillow stuck to my face as I groggily turned to look at her.
“You were crying in your sleep. Were you having a bad dream?” She whispered in the dark room, seated next to me on my bed. I sat up and nodded feebly to her. She opened her arms and I leaned against her, letting the tears flow freely while she held me.
“Thanks. You’re a good friend, Steph,” I snuffled, wiping my face with the sleeve of my nightgown.
“My mom always told me
the way to combat a nightmare is to think of something that makes you happy. Like Christmas morning, or your birthday, or a trip to the beach.” She smiled in encouragement and I assured her I would try it as I lay back down, but every happy thought I could come up with centered around Aiden, which didn’t help to dispel the emptiness in my chest at all.
I remembered Christmas in the hospital when my dad gave me that journal to help me “write stuff” and promised myself I’d dig it out and give it a try in the morning.
Chapter 31
It turned out I didn’t get a chance to write anything until later the next day. I wanted to go sit in the oak grove but since it was April in the Pacific Northwest, everything was sopping wet. So I slogged through the marshy grass to the library and sat in an isolated corner where the lamp cast a warm pool of light around me. I began to write, to empty out some of the pain and brokenness in hopes of finding peace.
Students moved about the library in hushed tones, ignoring me as I sniffled and wiped my nose with a tissue, my head bent over the journal. The words spilled out of me in a flow of ink, the pen moving across the page almost by itself. Exhausted and emptied at the end, I closed my eyes in a silent prayer of thanks, my hand clutched tightly to the ring I wore around my neck, hidden under my blouse.
“What are you writing?” Ravi’s lilting Indian accent startled me and I squeaked in surprise, dropping my journal on the floor. The noise echoed throughout the library and several heads turned in my direction.
“Sorry,” I whispered, and the students quickly lost interest. Ravi picked up the journal and sat in the chair across from me, murmuring “Can I see?” as the book naturally flipped open to where I’d been writing. I lurched forward to retrieve it, but he started reading aloud, his voice soft yet sure in the still room.
