by AE Woodward
In a move that surprises us both, I lean over and kiss his cheek. I can’t dwell on it though. I didn’t come here to think about us, and all the times we had in the past. I came here to say good-bye to my family. Gathering my thoughts, I shake my head clear. I appreciate that Parker is trying, but it’s a little too late for me.
I make a move for the car door but he grabs my hand, preventing me from leaving. A pained expression is painted across his face. “Katie, you’ve gotta start by making every moment count.”
My breath catches in my throat. Parker is dredging up the past, and it brings too many feelings with it, but I know he’s right. I’m letting time slip by, and I haven’t really thought about it. The clock keeps ticking, but I’m stuck in place.
Forcing a smile, I work up the courage to move again. Getting out of the car, I start walking toward the plots that I know belong to them. The car door slams behind me and I turn and signal with my hands for Parker to stay put. He accepts my request without argument and I’m reminded of why I wanted him to come with me. My family would have never allowed me this space. They would have insisted on going to the graves with me, not trusting me to do it alone. But Parker believes in me, and instead of following me he leans up against his old Mustang, smiling in my direction.
His confidence in me reassures me that I can do this on my own and I start walking toward them again.
Casting a cursory glance around, I see the three headstones immediately. The fresh brown dirt is obvious amongst the surrounding greenery. The closer I get, the more details I notice. The three stones are of corresponding sizes: Michael’s is the biggest and sits the middle, the two smaller ones either side signifying my angelic babies. A warm tear slides slowly down my face as I begin to make out the inscriptions on the stones. Since I’d been unable to make any decisions, my in-laws had taken care of everything. They tried to talk to me about things one time, only to leave and not return after I spent an afternoon screaming hysterically at them. I haven’t seen them since. I know I need to apologize for my behavior… I just don’t know when, or how, I will do it.
I reach their plot and fall to my knees in front of the headstones. Focusing through the blurry vision caused by the tears pooling in my eyes is difficult, but I take my time and carefully inspect each stone’s writing.
Zoe Baker
Beloved Daughter and Granddaughter
Shine On
That is perfect for Zoe. She could shine her light on anyone. She was amazingly charismatic. Everywhere she went, people fell in love with her—just like her father. I swallow my sadness and continue reading.
Michael Baker
Loving Father and Husband
Smile Always
That was one of the things I loved about Michael. He reminded me of Tommy in that way. Always smiling. In fact, he’d been smiling the first time I laid eyes on him, when I’d needed a little light in my life.
Baby Boy Baker
Taken Too Soon
My breath hitches reading the last one. Again I’m guilt-stricken. The pain in my chest increases tenfold, and I can’t breathe. They had to bury him without a name because I had been too lost in my own pain to name him. I hadn’t even known he was a boy until a few hours ago. I was a poor excuse of a person, but even more so as a mother.
I sit there, pondering my next move. Trying to figure out how one copes with something of this magnitude. I know we reap what we sow, but this? Surely nobody deserves such a punishment.
I’m startled from my thoughts when Parker sits down on the ground next to me. I shoot a confused look at him, wanting to be pissed, but I’m not. In fact, I feel a sense of relief feeling him next to me.
“You’ve been through a lot, kiddo,” he mutters.
More than you know, I think to myself.
“This fuckin’ sucks, more than I’ll probably ever be able to understand, but I think you’re doing fine. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you are.” He pauses to run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I’d do if I was in your shoes, but I hope I would be dealing with it half as good as you are.”
The words are sincere, and it makes my heart ache even worse. Tears start to fall faster. He honestly thinks that I’m coping well? I don’t understand though: If I’m dealing with things decently, why does everyone continue to pressure me? I just need time to work through things and figure out where I’m going from here.
I wipe the tears off from my cheeks, and my guard is so far down, I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore.
“Aww shit, Katie, I hate seeing you cry,” he says quietly, putting his arm around my neck.
Hearing the words that had been spewed before, I pull away from him and jump to my feet. In an instant, I’m angry with him again and, oddly, it reminds me of why I’m here. I absently wonder if the medication is wearing off, because I want to scream at him. Just yell and tell him everything. He deserves the whole story so he realizes what a monster I am. So that he won’t feel so bad for me. I want to let him see me for what I truly am—for him to know that this is what I deserve. The choices I made led me to this moment. There’s no way that all of this is coincidence. It makes too much sense. I’ve come to the realization that this is my kismet, whether I like it or not. I’ve realized it, and I’ve accepted it. Now I just need for everyone else to accept it as well.
“All right then, lets get you home,” Parker stutters as he quickly gets to his feet. Anger courses through my veins and all the painful memories seep back into my soul. This is his fault. I glare at him in hopes that my face will communicate my feelings.
“Yeah, Katie, I get it. You’re still pissed at me.” He brushes past me, leaving me with the breeze of his scent. He smells just the same as he always did—the perfect combination of laundry detergent, motor oil, cigarettes and Double Mint gum.
I follow him and we both slam our respective doors shut as we jump back into his Mustang. Parker reaches in his pocket and offers me the pill bottle Stevenson had given him. “You want one of these or not?” he asks, reminding me of yet another reason why I wanted him to bring me. He’s just as careless as I am, at least in my current state of mind. He knows that I don’t really need them, that I’m dealing with things pretty well considering the circumstances, but somehow he knows that I want them.
Feeling completely pissed that he can read me, I snatch the bottle from his hand and check the label. Sleeping pills. Perfect.
The lid gives a satisfying crack as I twist it off, and I pop two pills into my mouth. Without looking at him, I toss the bottle into the center console and direct my stare out the window. The sound of the engine does nothing to hide Parker’s sigh as he begins the drive back toward the farm.
I hate being home alone. My heart pounds at just the thought of it. The house is so big and creepy. They just couldn’t leave without me—I would die, I was sure of it. “Shit, Parker. We can’t leave her here alone. Mom and Pop will flip out if they find out I left her alone… again.”
I look to Parker full of hope. Parker is my knight in shining armor. He doesn’t have siblings of his own, so I think he feels like he owes me something. I don’t really care what his motivations are as long as he is around me.
“Man, Abby and Lex are expecting us,” Parker complained. I know he needs Tommy to take him because I overheard him tell Tommy that his dad had taken the keys to his Mustang after he’d been caught drinking again.
I didn’t want to keep the guys from doing something they wanted to do. Even if I was slightly jealous of Abby Green.
“Abby has a younger sister,” I whisper before losing my nerve. “I could hang out with her.”
It still kills me to talk, but I feel more at ease with Tommy and Parker than anyone else. They have both been through a lot with me, working according to the recommendations from my therapists. Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am to have the boys, but they don’t need to. I know that already.
I take one of my calm soothing breaths. I wan
t Parker to think I’m cool, when really I’m terrified. The thought of speaking to people still makes me anxious. I’m not all that good at making friends. “I’ll stay out of your hair. I promise.”
Parker shares a look with Tommy, who just shrugs his shoulders in response. I smile at Parker and he throws his arm over my shoulder, “You know, Katie, you’re just about the coolest twelve year old I know.”
“All right,” Tommy says grabbing his car keys, “let’s go for a ride.”
Sitting in the middle of my brother’s truck, I’m nervous but happy at the same time. I felt like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. Parker lights a cigarette.
“Damn it, Parker,” Tommy yells. “You’re going to corrupt my sister!”
“Does it bother you, kiddo?” he asks, taking a drag.
Play it cool, Katie. “No, I’m fine,” I whisper.
“See, she’s fine.”
“You’re an asshole. Make sure you open that window all the way. Mom will shit a brick if she smells smoke on her.”
Riding around with Parker and Tommy is the highlight of my year—probably my life. I feel so much cooler than I really am. Once we get to the house I stay out of the way and play with Abby’s little sister while the guys hang out with their girlfriends, just like I promised. By the time we leave it is well past midnight and I’m exhausted. I don’t make it far before my eyelids close…
Strong arms slip under my limp body and my eyes flutter open. My heart quickens and I become increasingly anxious with each jostled step. I wonder for a second where I am, and who is taking care of me.
“I gotcha, Katie.”
Immediately, I remember that I’m with Parker. Hearing the screen door fling open, my body relaxes. I’m home.
“Oh my goodness, what happened, Parker?” My mother sounds frantic.
“I had to calm her down,” Parker lies while continuing to walk through the house. I hear footsteps following closely behind us and I know Mom’s freaking out about my current state. She’s worked so hard to get me off my medication cocktail.
“Mrs. Garvin,” Stevenson says calmly, “I assure you that it is just a light sedative. She should wake up in a few hours.” I feel my body being gently set onto something… it feels like the couch. Yes, it must be the couch since I didn’t hear Parker go up the stairs.
“What the hell was that all about?” Parker demands, sounding upset.
“Actually, Parker, I was hoping that you could give me some insight to that.” Stevenson pauses waiting for a response. Despite being asleep, panic sets in. I want to wake up just to make it all stop, but my eyelids are too heavy. I’m awake but trapped. The tension in the room mounts with each passing moment. Are they really going to have this discussion in front of my parents? I try to wake myself up to stop them, but I can’t.
“How the hell am I supposed to know, doc?” The frustration in Parker’s voice is apparent.
“Oh Christ, Parker,” Tommy interrupts, “you know damn well that she’s loved you since she was a kid. And you certainly never did anything to discourage her.”
The stress of the situation is obviously getting to everyone. I wonder what my parents think about all of this. Sure, they knew I had a crush on Parker, but they certainly don’t need to know any more than that.
I try, unsuccessfully, to open my eyes again. I want to make it stop but I know I can’t. I’m trapped.
“All right, everyone, calm down,” Stevenson murmurs. “We obviously don’t have any idea why Katie chose Parker to take her to the graves, but she did it, and that is really the only thing that matters. She’s starting the healing process. It’s going to be a long road, but we’re making progress. Now, Parker, I think you and I need to talk in private about how things went. I’ll need any insight you might have to strengthen her treatment.”
Panic really sets in. My therapist and Parker, alone, discussing me. I hope someone will contest this, but no one seems to care as I hear the footsteps leave the room. Once the room clears out I’m left with nothing but silence and, not having anything to keep my mind awake, I feel myself slowly drift away.
It’s still light out when I open my eyes. I’m in the living room, again. I should seriously consider just moving into this room. It seems like I spend more time here than in any other part of the house.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
Startled, I sit up, unsure of who is in the room with me. I’m shocked to see Stevenson sitting in the recliner next to the couch. Seriously? He’s spent the whole day waiting for me to wake up?
“I cleared my schedule for the day.” Well that was creepy. It’s like he can read my mind. “I want to be here for you, and talk through some things.”
Before I give any kind of answer I look around the room, wondering where everyone is.
“Your father and Tommy are out working the horses, your mother ran to town for some groceries, and Parker… well, he went back to the shop.”
Damn, this guy is good.
“Parker seems to care a lot about your wellbeing. Considers you family,” he continues.
I cringe.
“It’s apparent that there are some deep-seated feelings there…” He pauses giving me the chance to respond. “I’m guessing that probably has something to do with the reason you wanted him to be the one to take you to the cemetery.”
Something like that.
“I’m not really getting a real good read on what’s going on in your head, Katie. You’ve got to start giving me more so we can keep pressing forward. I’m going to need to learn more about your life before all of this happened. We can take it slow but I need something.” He reaches into his briefcase and grabs the yellow legal pad and pen. He leans forward and sets them in my lap. “Writing is the easiest form of communication. Go ahead, try it.”
Since I’m not sure what he wants to know, I shrug my shoulders. But I have to say, I’m slowly warming up to the idea of having someone help me kick the skeletons out of my closet.
Stevenson smiles. “I hear you, Tommy, and Parker were all quite close.”
I grip the pen in my hand and hurriedly scratch, yes.
“Tommy seems to think you loved Parker.”
Yes.
“Did Parker love you?”
A lump forms in my throat and I want to throw the notepad at him. He’s a bastard for going straight for the jugular. But he’s right—I need to talk about the past to better understand the present. Stevenson can help me… if I help myself. Knowing that I need to save myself, I’m starting to feel like I can do this. I quickly write my answer, even though it hurts.
No.
“I’m going to venture a guess here, Katie, but is Parker the reason you left home and went to college in Manchester?”
Yes.
Stevenson nods. I wonder how much he’s put together himself, and how much Parker told him. He’s obviously very good at reading between the lines, but he seems to have more insight than he should.
“Do you want to talk about that?” he asks hopefully.
I shake my head. That is all I’m giving him on the subject of mine and Parker’s past. I never want to talk about why I left. It’s bad enough just having to think about it, let alone living with the consequences from my decisions every day.
Stevenson ponders for quite some time before he speaks again. “I have a feeling I know what you’re doing in there, Katie. You can’t punish yourself or dwell in the past. You might think you don’t deserve a second chance at life,” he stops, collecting his things to leave, then gazes deep into my eyes, “but you do. You are worth it.”
Ever since the trip to the graves I’ve been seeing a lot more of Parker. Despite our less than favorable exchange at the cemetery, he’s been making a habit of coming to the house everyday after he finishes helping out with the chores around the farm. Day after day, without so much as a word, he walks in and plops down next to me on the couch. Mom brings him some lemonade and he gets comfortable, usually thumbing through the magaz
ines that Mom keeps putting out, despite the fact that I never crack them open. Since I’m not sure what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, his presence makes me uneasy.
Today I’ve decided to try deterring him from his usual gig by lying down on the couch instead of just sitting. He comes in, just like he has been for the past week—like he owns the place. Typical Parker. He takes his hat off, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and I can’t help but notice his tight stomach. I roll my eyes and look away. I’m not stupid. I know what he’s doing and I’m not biting.
He mutters something inaudible, which is odd since he’s usually pretty silent. I look at him, confused.
“I said, it’s hot out there today.”
He places his cap on his head, backwards. He looks me over, obviously taking in the fact that I’m sprawled over the couch and showing no signs of moving. I try not to smile, but despite my efforts I feel the corners of my mouth pull up. He shrugs and walks straight toward the end of the couch where he stills glaring at my feet. I hold firm, enjoying messing with his newfound routine.
He stands there for a few tense moments. I’m hoping that he’ll give up and leave. But I couldn’t get that lucky. Eventually, he has enough and he grabs my legs, lifting them up and sliding himself underneath my feet. He lets my feet drop into his lap.
I know I should scramble. Sit up, distance myself from him. But instead, I lie there with my feet innocently resting in his lap.
I pretend to be put out with his daily visits, but we both know that isn’t the case. Truth is, I look forward to quitting time, knowing that he’ll pop in and just keep me company. It’s like he refuses to let me be alone, forcing me to hang on to something, instead of withdrawing further into the grief.
