by C. S. Lakin
She checked the street signs, the huge cemetery like a giant subdivision, until she found the lane she sought. After pulling to the curb and shutting off the engine, they sat there, the three of them, waiting—for what, Dinah didn’t know. Finally, Joey opened the door and got out, started walking across the lawn dotted with leafy trees, the smell of eucalyptus in the air. Hundreds of stone markers dotted the green grass, some flat like stepping-stones, others tall and ornate.
“Joey,” Dinah called out, feeling funny speaking in a loud voice in such a place. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yes,” he answered without looking back or slowing his step. Even Dinah wasn’t exactly certain which way to go. She held a small map she received in the mail that marked her mom’s plot but she didn’t bother to look at it. Joey had stopped in front of a headstone a few dozen yards away.
Dinah took Ben’s hand and walked toward Joey. The balmy May afternoon infused the air with the aroma of mowed grass, and songbirds sang in nearby trees, giving the place a peaceful air. Wasn’t that the point—to make visitors feel their loved ones were happy resting? Yet, Dinah knew her mom was in heaven, no doubt looking down on them all. The thought both warmed and chilled her. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in heaven, free of worry and fear and illness, yet knowing the ones you loved still suffered. She could imagine her mom watching Ben through his bouts of illness. Wouldn’t her heart also hurt seeing the way Simon and Levi behaved? Could your heart hurt in heaven or did you live outside of time, knowing in the flash of a moment you would be reunited with your loved ones, as if no time had passed at all, the separation only a fleeting memory?
But that’s not how it felt on earth, bereaved of someone you loved so much, knowing you would never see them here, in your life, in this world. Her faith only comforted her so far, and it was hard to stave off the barrage of sadness that assailed her as she came alongside Joey and looked at the simple marker, a light gray, with her mom’s name and her years chiseled into the stone. She stood to the side, not wanting to step on the coffin that lay buried underground, didn’t allow herself to think about her mother’s body rotting beneath her.
Without meaning to, she blurted out a sob and a stream of tears followed. Ben kept hold of her hand, his eyes on the headstone, betraying nothing of what he felt, Dinah wondering what he really did feel, if he thought it was all his fault. With a blurry gaze, she watched Joey kneel and place his hand on the ground, could only imagine what he was remembering about the day their mom had died, and how he’d tried to save her, only to watch her take her last breath right in front of him.
“Listen,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“What do you hear?” Ben asked, plopping down on the grass next to his brother.
“Shh . . .” Joey lifted his head, looked above him. “You don’t hear her?”
A shiver ran across Dinah’s neck. “Hear who?” She listened hard but only caught the silky warble of songbirds.
Dinah shielded her eyes as the air around her brightened in an uncanny fashion, the way sunlight reflected off water in a tinny glare. Joey turned to her and she saw his face glowing in ethereal light—something she had seen a few times when Joey was very young, as if a strange spotlight shone on him, yet there was no evident source of light.
“She’s singing something . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, some song, nothing I recognize.” And then he began to sing it, mumbling a word or two, but the rest of the words clear and the tune jolting Dinah back to her childhood, with her mom pushing her in the swing, in the lazy summer heat, with Levi next to her, pumping his little legs, and the song imprinting in her heart, her mom’s song, Dinah now realizing Rachel had made it up then, something to soothe her. She hadn’t heard that song in maybe fifteen years.
She stared at Joey, her mouth agape, watching as the song came from his throat in a sweet voice that sounded so familiar, deliciously comforting. Joey seemed miles away, lost in his singing, but not lost at all, more like found.
When Joey finished and the light lost it sharpness, Ben asked, “Did you hear anything else? Was it an angel?”
Joey smiled at his brother, rested a hand on his head. Suddenly her small thirteen-year-old brother seemed ageless, outside of time too, as if he had one foot in heaven and the other on earth. She marveled at the change in him, his expression radiating a deep peace, and a knowing.
“Did she say anything to you?” Dinah asked, afraid to ask.
“Who?” Ben said, his face eager for an answer.
“No, but she showed me something.”
“What?” both Dinah and Ben said.
Joey stood, brushed bits of mowed grass off his shorts. “My path. She showed me my path.”
Ben looked around. “I don’t see a path.”
Joey grinned. “It’s not the kind you can see. It’s like . . . God puts an idea in your heart, and that idea just grows and grows until it becomes a longing. God gives you the desires of your heart, Ben. That’s what the Bible says—he puts a special desire in you so you will take the path you’re meant to take. The path he planned for you long ago, even before you were born.”
Ben nodded, drinking in Joey’s words, but Dinah wondered if he understood. She wanted to ask Joey more about what had transpired, but the words of the song he sang lilted in her head and she closed her eyes, remembering her mom so clearly, hearing her voice as she sang, as she pushed her gently in the swing and the wind played with her hair.
She wished in that moment that she could see her own path as clearly, see all their paths—Levi’s, Simon’s, and especially Ben’s. She dreaded thinking what the future held for her little brother. But she knew she had to trust—that everything would work out for their good. Yet sometimes she hated not knowing what lay ahead. Life would be easier if you could prepare for what was to come—like the saying went: forewarned is forearmed. But then, where would faith come in? God didn’t promise he’d show you all your steps for the next ten years; he only promised he would lead the way, take your hand, get you through each day, providing wisdom just when you needed it. She had to learn to be content with that.
She looked around at the acres of graves, thinking how God knew every person buried there, knew every person in the entire world—their every thought, the number of hairs on their head. Billions of people, living now or long dead. It boggled her mind to think of God’s omniscience, how he cared about each individual, longing for them to seek him and find him.
Her dad was wrong, thinking God singled out only some people to guide and bless. She wished she could convince him he was special, that God did have a purpose for his life, that he wasn’t meant to just work mindlessly until he died. She closed her eyes and prayed, asked God to show her dad his path, to shine some light on his life so he felt it had meaning. Since her mom had died, Dinah couldn’t recall any time when her dad laughed without pain rippling underneath. She longed to hear him laugh, see him truly happy. But what would it take? Maybe when Joey graduated and went off to college—that would do it. Her dad had urged all of them to go to college, but none but Joey had an ambition to go. Her other brothers all seemed content without goals, and Reuben’s obsession with climbing wasn’t a real ambition—not in Dinah’s mind. It was just an escape. But, then again, Reuben seemed happy, married to Lindsay and working at the sports shop.
Joey walked over to her. “We should get back. Dad will be home from work soon and I am drooling thinking about that chocolate cake you made for Ben.”
Dinah turned to Ben, who knelt on the grass, one hand on the ground. “You ready to go, sport?”
“I still can’t hear anything.”
Joey patted him on the back. “You will. Someday. When it’s time.”
That seemed to brighten Ben’s face. “Okay. I’ll just wait, then.” He added: “I really want to hear Mom sing.”
“Well, I may not have the best voice, but I’ll sing for you, Ben,” Dinah said. She smoothed ou
t his messy hair and took his hand.
“Okay. Let’s go get some cake.”
Dinah walked her brothers back to the car, singing the song her mom had sung to her, hearing it clearly in her head, even all the words, although at the time she hadn’t understood them. And as they got in, she looked back over the rows and rows of graves, her mom’s small stone lost among so many. Maybe she would ask her dad to come with her to visit the grave. Maybe if he let out some of his hurt he would feel better, although Dinah doubted her dad would want to show such vulnerability around her. Maybe, if he listened hard enough, he might even hear Rachel sing to him.
Who knew?—anything was possible with God.
“Look, Dad, I’m working. I’m holding down a job. It’s not my fault I can’t find another roommate.” Simon hated to beg, hated standing there on the front stoop like he was some pushy vacuum salesman—on his own front stoop to his own house, and his dad wouldn’t even let him in. A brisk wind made him pull his coat collar tight around his neck. Surely his dad could see he was shivering out here.
“It is your fault, Simon. You’re impossible to live with. Your place is a pigsty. You haven’t bothered to clean it up or advertise, so what do you think? Someone’s going to just show up at your apartment and ask to room with you?”
He stomped his feet, more from frustration than cold. “You let Levi move back home. And he couldn’t even hold down his job, had to snivel and whine his way back into his room. And I’m not going to do that.”
“Levi’s agreed to get some counseling. And he’s working now at Builder’s as a stock boy in the back. You want to come live at home, you’d have to agree—”
“I’m not asking to come home. No way could I live here with you, with Joey giving me the evil eye all the time and your nonstop lectures. I’m just asking for a loan. I promise I’ll pay you back as soon—”
“And I already said no.”
“Aw, come on, Dad. Show some mercy here.”
His dad leaned up against the doorjamb, studied him. “Look, Si. I’m not going to give you any handouts. You’re in this situation because of the choices you made. You dropped out of school, got into drugs—”
“I’m trying to clean up, get my life on track. I just need some help.”
“How ’bout you sign up for some night classes, so you can get your high school degree?”
Simon blew out a steamy breath. “Why do you always rail me about that? It’s just a stupid piece of paper.”
“You’ll never get a decent job without it.”
“Well, Levi’s got a diploma—where’s that gotten him?”
“We’re not discussing Levi—we’re talking about you and your future.”
“Forget it, Dad. I’m leaving.” He stormed down the steps, spun around halfway to the street. “You’re always pouring money into Joey’s college fund, spending every extra penny on Ben and his treatments. You say money’s always tight and you don’t have enough to spread around. That’s just a lame excuse, and you know it! It’s favoritism, is what it is. Always has been. You’ve always loved Rachel’s kids more, never bothered to hide that. Don’t you have any idea how much it hurt to be treated like some second-class citizen in my own home?”
Simon’s throat closed up, but he was done talking anyway. His heart thumped hard as he got on his bike and rode off, the icy wind stinging his cheeks and making his eyes water. He didn’t look back, didn’t want to see his dad still blocking the door, thinking he could keep him out, throw his problems out on the street and shut the door on them and they’d go away.
As he pumped the pedals he thought about Joey, being groomed to be the famous, rich doctor. He’d excelled so much in school this year they bumped him ahead a grade. Just so he could graduate sooner and head off to medical school, which would require his dad dumping thousands of dollars a year into his lengthy education, his dad determined not to let his precious dreamer rack up too many school loans that would need repaying.
Simon attacked the pedals, thinking about Joey’s stupid dreams—not just the ones he used to have as a kid, imagining himself high above everyone else, his family all bowing to him like he was God—but his lofty dream to become a doctor, his goal to heal the sick and make the lame walk and maybe even raise the dead, Joey acting as some self-proclaimed messiah sent by God to save the world.
He had to get hold of some fast cash. His rent was overdue and just this morning his landlord had pounded on his door, told him he would evict him by Monday if he didn’t pay up. He was sick of stealing, pawning off cheap items, dickering with the guy at the shop who never gave him a good price for anything he brought in. And he didn’t dare try to go out on his own dealing drugs. Shane’d had all the rich connections, but never let anyone know who the suppliers were. It was too risky nosing around and asking questions. He had one last recourse, but he knew it would cost him an earful.
He hunkered down into his coat as he road south, turned on Ventura. After about a half hour he pulled his bike up to the rack outside Pro Sport, locked it, then sought out his brother.
Reuben looked up from the counter, where he was perusing some list, a pen stuck behind his ear. “Hey, Si. What brings you here?”
“Got a minute?”
Reuben glanced over at one of the guys rearranging some items on little hanging hooks. “Cover for me, Drew? I’ll be back in ten.”
Reuben led him to the heated break room and Simon felt his cheeks start to thaw. They sat at one of the large rectangular tables, no one else there.
“You look like you haven’t been sleeping. Or eating much. I heard Levi moved back home.”
“Yeah. I’m kinda in a tight spot, now that Levi’s not there to help with rent. Do you know anyone here maybe looking for a place to live? I need to find a roommate or I can’t afford to stay in my apartment.”
Reuben gave a thoughtful look. Simon rarely saw his older brother; they had nothing in common, never had. Most of their years growing up they barely said two words to each other, Reuben off doing his own thing, trying to be the perfect son. They’d had a few closer years when they were teens, Simon recalled, even had some good talks about life and all that. But now, with Reuben married and his wife expecting, he didn’t have much time or interest, apparently, in hanging out at the house, other than coming over for an occasional family dinner—which Simon never got invited to anyway, seeing that the word family didn’t really include him. Although Dinah told him Reuben had spent the day recently with her and the two little brats at the indoor skating rink at the mall.
“I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head, but I’ll ask around.” He paused. “Do you need some money to tie you over?”
Simon blew out a breath of relief. “Yeah, I sure do. I’d be glad to do something for you, some work around your place, to help pay you back”
“You still working at the bike shop?”
“Yeah, but it won’t cover the full rent. And I’d be okay about moving out to share with someone else. I just need help in the meantime.”
“Okay, well, as long as you’re working, I’m fine about loaning you what you need. Pay me back whenever.”
“Oh, thanks, bro. You’re a lifesaver.”
“There is one thing, though, I’d like to ask in return.”
Simon saw a strange look come over his brother and it disturbed him. “What?”
“Well, it’s something Joey said the other day, when I took him and Ben out skating.”
Simon felt heat flush his cheeks; the warm room grew too warm.
Reuben continued. “Dinah was off getting burgers and we were sitting at a table. He brought up some guy named Shane—someone who Dinah knew. Then he started spouting about justice and the truth coming out and God bringing the dark to light. I hadn’t seen him act like that since he was a little kid. I asked him what he was talking about and he said I needed to know what you and Levi did, that you were going to have to pay.” Reuben lowered his voice and Simon gulped, his heart feeling
like someone had put it in a vise and twisted all the blood out of it. “Then Dinah showed up and Joey got quiet, gave me a strange look. Simon, what was he talking about?”
“Aw, you know Joey. Always on his high horse about something. Shane was some guy that flirted with Dinah, back a couple of years ago. Joey overhead me and Levi talking about how we wanted to confront the guy and tell him to stay away from Dinah. Nothing came of it, but you know Joey and his big imagination.”
“Yeah, well, when we got back to the house, I asked Dad about it and he almost blew his top. His face went white, so I know there’s more to it than what you’re telling me.”
Simon’s mouth opened as he considered what he should say. If he brushed it off, Reuben might go back to Joey, who would be more than happy to tell his big brother all the gory details. He cringed picturing their dad, thinking Joey had forgotten the incident, like any of them could, but hoping the matter had been laid to rest with Shane, buried six feet underground, but then he just brings it up out of the blue, like it’s always foremost on his mind and he just can’t hold back from telling whoever will listen.
“Rube, if I tell you what really happened, you gotta promise me two things. One—that you’ll take Joey aside and tell him he has to shut up. That he can’t ever, ever, mention Shane again. He looks up to you, always has. Maybe he’ll listen to you. And two—you won’t mention this to anyone—not Dad, not Dinah—no one. Not even Lindsay, okay?”
Simon could tell from Reuben’s expression that he dreaded what he was about to hear. He asked, “Does this have something to do with that time Dinah cut her hair—and all you guys were acting really strange?” Simon nodded. Reuben shook his head, maybe trying to prepare himself to hear the story, but Simon knew there was no way anyone could steel himself to hear this. It would just come avalanching down like a ton of boulders on Rube’s head and bury him with the knowledge, something he would now have to carry, a burden, the burden they all carried, for the rest of his life.
