Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost

by Michele G Miller

  Gram and Cole maintain their distance as they follow Amber and I into the house, our limbs still striking out at each other. Cole’s face remains confused as Gram shakes her head at her “rowdy little devils.”

  “Why are they fighting over dibs?” he asks as Amber and I hover over the box, after setting it on the counter.

  “You get a knife,” Amber suggests.

  “What, so you can steal it when I turn around? No way, you get one.”

  “Steal what?” Cole asks, his voice considerably more exasperated with each question.

  Gram steps forward, standing at the edge of the island, her hands waving around as she swats us back. “Move, the both of you, or you won’t make it to graduation tomorrow,” she orders. “Since these two were little they have always argued over the sliver of chocolate Buttercream slips into the top of every cake they make.

  “It’s like chocolate heaven.” Amber licks her lips.

  “It’s chocolate, there’s nothing exotic about it,” Gram frowns, rolling her eyes.

  Amber presses her lips in a thin line as I laugh.

  Gram slaps my arm. “Oh shush, you’re as bad as she is.”

  Cole’s chest explodes with unrestricted laughter.

  “Obviously as twins they’ve shared a cake for years on their birthdays, and every year they fight over whose turn it is to get the chocolate.” She pops the tape on the cake box and lifts the lid. I gravitate forward.

  “Why don’t you guys share it?” Amber’s brow arches as if to ask, “Are you crazy?” His smile drops.

  Cole leans in too as Gram sets the lid aside and sniffs the air over the box. It’s a cake, we’re all ridiculous . . . the sugary, sweet scent of buttercream and cocoa reaches me and my mouth waters. My mouth would sigh if it could. It’s more than a cake. It’s memories, happiness, laughter, and love all wrapped up in one mouthwatering confection.

  Across from me Amber’s eyes rise, holding mine. She’s thinking it too. This is our first Buttercream Dream cake without Mom and Dad. Our first true celebration without them. On our birthday we were still in shock. Thanksgiving and Christmas were somber, simple trips to Gram’s. This—our graduation—is it, the first event we haven’t let pass us by with nothing but a comment.

  “Who gets it this time?” Cole asks after a prolonged moment of silence. He and Gram must see our emotions. Amber’s are written all over her face, and I assume mine are the same. Her brows lift in challenge and I smirk back.

  “You know what?” I straighten, walking around Gram’s back and standing beside Amber. Swinging my arm around her shoulder, I swallow the thickness invading my throat for the second time this evening and look around the kitchen. “You have it, Cole.”

  “Me?”

  Six shocked eyes stare. “Yeah, you’re our brother and you didn’t get to grow up with the tradition. It’s time we set things right with a new one.”

  “I . . . are you sure? You know I don’t want to overstep here.” Cole’s face flushes.

  I glance at Gram hoping the offer doesn’t upset her. Hoping my calling him brother in her presence doesn’t hurt her. She’s beaming, and crying. Shoot, my visions blurs.

  “Take the thing before I change my mind.”

  Cole jerks forward, pulling the chocolate slice from the top of the cake. His smile wobbles as he brings the slice to his mouth and eats it in one bite.

  “Next time, you get to fight for it. This was your one and only freebie,” I grumble.

  Amber laughs. Gram cackles.

  Cole simply shakes his head. “It’s a deal, little brother.”

  FRIDAY, JUNE 4

  Ruby,

  I’m a high school graduate! By the time you receive this you will be too. Can you believe it? My Gram flew up to be here and Cole was here, too. Amber and I held hands through the entire thing. I’m not ashamed to admit I cried a little. It was Amber’s fault though. She just couldn’t stop.

  Now we move forward. College beckons, careers await us. The world is ours to rule. Ha, ha, ha…do you like that? It came from the Valedictorian’s speech. Pretty cheesy, right? But then again, it’s also true.

  Your letter came today, right as Amber and I were climbing into the car to head to the ceremony. Amber yelled at me as I waited for our mail lady to reach our house so I could check for something from you. I pocketed your envelope and then drove myself crazy wondering what you wrote until I could sneak away and read it. Here’s a crazy ridiculous fact you probably don’t want to know. I read your letter hiding in a bathroom stall. This is what you’ve reduced me to.

  I like your paper chain idea. I remember making them as kids for Christmas. Of course, Amber and I eventually had to each make our own because we would race downstairs to be the first to break the chain. We haven’t changed much in the last ten years, ask me about the cake issue from last night for proof.

  My house is on fire, what do I grab? I have a pile of sketch books I’d save. Most importantly, I have one both my mom and dad drew in with me when I was younger. Gram has copies of pictures. All my stuff is replaceable, and while I’d say your letters, I don’t need them when I have the real thing.

  I missed my parents today, Ruby. I’m sure you missed your mom too, but last night standing with Gram, Cole, and Amber in my kitchen, eating cake, I realized something important. I don’t have them, but I have people who love me, and know me, and I have the future. We have the future. And each other. That makes all the difference. Doesn’t it?

  Can we ignore the other stuff until we meet and take it from there?

  Love, Brett

  P.S. Don’t let me forget to tell you all about the best cake in the universe when I see you in two weeks. By the way, what is your favorite dessert? This is an important detail! It’s probably my LAST 20 questions question before I see you.

  P.P.S. HOLY CRAP! I get to officially see you in two weeks. I can’t wait to hand you a paper plane personally.

  WHEN SHE CRIES

  Ruby

  Monday, June 7

  Dad sits in his usual spot on the love seat as I walk into the living room. What is he doing?

  He’s not watching TV. He’s hunched over with his head in his hands.

  “Dad?” I come around in front of him and sit on the ottoman. “Dad?” I’m afraid to reach out to him, so I don’t. What if—

  He looks up, his face smeared with tears. Oh no, my stomach sinks. He’s looked this way once before. With pinched, bloodshot eyes he swallows. “They found her.”

  ***

  This is probably a bad idea, but I pick up the phone anyway and dial the number written on a yellow sticky note beside my bed.

  “Hello?”

  “Brett?”

  There’s a pause. “Well, if it isn’t my girl with the ruby slippers?” His carefree voice teases.

  I waited to call him for a reason. I thought I was done with crying. My pillow couldn’t handle anymore tears. As soon as I hear his voice, I lose it again.

  “Ruby? Hey, what’s going on?”

  I need to answer him, but I can’t catch my breath. It’s possible to die from a broken heart. Is it possible to drown in my own tears?

  “Ruby, why are you crying?”

  She’s gone, Brett. She’s really gone. Why didn’t I realize this before? My brain knew it, but my heart refused it. Mom was on that island, waiting for us to find her. She wasn’t dead. Not really.

  “You’re scaring me. Are you hurt? Ruby, do I need to call 911?”

  I’m fine. That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can dance across the United States, but my mom can’t. She’ll never get to watch me try to make her proud in New York. She won’t be there to help me pick out the perfect wedding dress. She’ll never know what it’s like to hold my children.

  I’m fine, Brett. But she’s not.

  “No,” I manage. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not hurt?” his voice shakes. “Okay, talk to me. Don’t be sorry. Tell me what happened, please.”<
br />
  “I’m sorry,” I repeat as I try to steady the air leaving my lungs. One breath at a time. I’m sorry I can’t say the words yet. All I’m doing is worrying you. I shouldn’t have called.

  I thought I’d experienced heartache last June when we first heard about the crash, when I called Dad from camp and he cried and forced Nana to say the words he couldn’t repeat. “Ruby, there’s been an accident . . .” Now I know I didn’t know the meaning of heartache until today. It grips the organ in my chest in a vice—relentless and paralyzing.

  They recovered what was left of her body.

  I knew if she were ever recovered she wouldn’t be whole. I knew this, but it never sank in. It never felt real. I kept my last vision of her rushing out the front door after kissing us goodbye. Smiling. Waving. Blowing kisses. In one piece.

  They recovered what was left of her body.

  What did that plane do to her? What did she have left? Did she get to keep her arms, her arms that hugged me so tight when she was proud and consoled me so tenderly when I was sad? Did she get to keep her feet, her feet that danced carefree across our kitchen and bathroom floors, that taught me how to do my first pirouette? Did she get to keep her face, her face I resemble so much?

  “Ruby?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

  “I’m right here, when you’re ready.”

  The vice lessens. That’s all I needed. To know he’s out there, supporting, understanding . . . there for me.

  “They found her.”

  NOTHIN’ MY LOVE CAN’T FIX

  Brett

  MONDAY, JUNE 7

  The phone slips through my hands as I say goodbye.

  “Brett?”

  I look up at Gram. The moment I heard Ruby’s voice I’d forgotten she was in the room with me. I was so happy to hear from her, then—

  “Is something wrong?” Her hand grips the arm of the chair.

  “Yeah, excuse me.”

  I know the pain all too well. I know how Ruby’s mind works, or I think I do. Six months ago she fantasized about her mother enjoying herself as though on a vacation. She chose to see her mother dancing across an island. The first words I’d wanted to write to her pop into my mind: I want them here, at home, so they can deal with the crap they left behind.

  Ruby the Optimist. The finality is surely killing her spirit now.

  I step into the backyard and press my palms against my eyes. Ruby’s sobs won’t leave my mind. I count to ten. The shakiness in her voice replays. What I wouldn’t give to take her pain away. I curse, kicking the stone wall along our porch.

  “Who is she, B?” Amber’s soft voice startles me. “I know she writes you letters, and I know you write to her. Who is she?” she asks again.

  Of course she knows. Did I think I could hide it forever?

  “She’s just a girl,” I lie, willing my emotions to even out.

  “My brother wouldn’t be writing letters to ‘just a girl,’” she counters, her fingers making little air quotes as she cocks her head to the side. “I had to force you to write more than your name in cards for Mom and Dad.”

  Her tease tugs at my lips. “I don’t want Gram to know.” Amber nods. “Her name is Ruby, I guess you know that already, too. Her mom was on the plane with Mom and Dad.” Sadness clouds her features. “They got the call today.”

  Amber’s fist presses against her lips. “Her body was identified.”

  “How do you know her . . . I mean how did you connect—” she shakes her head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. You’re upset. Is she okay? Does she have siblings? It was just her mom?”

  “Please, Am . . . look, I was planning on telling you all about her soon, but not right now. Okay?” I inhale slowly and exhale, pushing the emotions from my chest.

  She comes up beside me, standing closer than necessary. “I know I’ve done a lousy job at being supportive. I rely on you more than I should. I do everything wrong. I’ve sucked at being a good sister this year.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m trying to be better. I’m here right now, if you need me, or later when you’re ready. I promise I’ll be here.”

  Her fingers brush my shoulder. “I’ll take care of Gram for you.”

  She reaches the door and I call after her. “Hey, I love you, sis.” She smiles, poking her tongue out as she leaves me alone.

  ***

  Ruby,

  Last summer my parents boarded a plane for their first ‘real’ vacation since Amber and I came along. It was for their 20th wedding anniversary. They were going to Paris. My mom was only 22 when she had us. Dad, 25, and in the middle of med school. They’d been married about two years. According to them both it was love at first sight. Mom barely finished her degree before we came along. So between school and babies they never had a big honeymoon. Of course we traveled as a family. We went to the beach and the city. Took a few trips to Disney World once Gram moved down there, but they never had more than a weekend away until Paris. Or what would have been Paris. So now, when I picture them I see Paris. I see them dancing in the rain under the Eiffel Tower, and I see them sitting at a cafe eating pastries and drinking cappuccino. I picture them happy and enjoying their long awaited trip that never happened.

  Tell me where your mom would be. Where would she be happy to be if she couldn’t be with you and your dad? You tell me and I’ll draw it for you. A place where you can envision your mother until the day you don’t need to picture her there anymore.

  Here’s the thing, I could picture them in Heaven, golden streets, gates of pearl and all. I do believe in that, but it feels final. Unreachable for me, for now. I’m not ready for final, yet. So I’ll keep seeing Paris until the day I am.

  Amber likes to think about the way they were on our last beach trip. There was this crazy little ice cream shack where we went every night of our trip, the Kooky Coconut. She and Dad taste tested every flavor that week. We would get our ice cream and then walk down the short drive past the dunes and onto the beach to watch the sunset. My parents would get disgustingly mushy for parents, then we would sit in the sand and talk.

  I wish I could make this day better for you. Honestly, I want to pick up the phone and call you right back. No. If I could, I’d fly you to me so I could hug you until the hurt goes away. If you’ll let me, I’ll hug you for as long as you need on the 18th, and Gram will feed you cake, and Amber will pepper you with a million questions about going to school in the city. 11 days till Brett and Ruby meet! I’ll be the one waiting for you in the tented area reserved for family members.

  Love, B

  P.S. Amber knows about you now. Not the how or why, just the who. I’ll spill the whole story before you get here.

  P.P.S. I might lie about finding your letter in her room, though. Will you be cool with helping me cover that up?

  ALL I WANT

  Ruby

  THURSDAY, JUNE 10

  I’d say your letters, I don’t really need them when I have the real thing.

  With the simplest of words, Brett lifts me up and reminds me there’s a good life out there.

  Brett,

  Since we got the call, my dad has been a different person. Finding out about my mom lifted a weight off his shoulders, which I knew it would. Almost a year later to the date and he’ll be able to move on. He cried that night, so much so, I left the room. I couldn’t stand the sight of him in so much pain. But when we woke up the next day, he greeted me in the kitchen with a smile and hasn’t shed a tear since, unless he’s done it in private. Though, I don’t think he has. Everything about him seems a little lighter. His smile is a little wider. His eyes shine a little brighter. He even hugs me a little tighter. Who am I? Dr. Seuss?

  I, on the other hand, thought I had enough closure, but knowing what happened to her has done the opposite me for. I’m just so sad, Brett. I feel it in my bones, in every muscle. I ache everywhere. I’m even happier to have graduated, so I don’t have to go to school and deal with my friends going on wit
h life like it’s a normal day. Nothing is normal.

  Knowing I have you does make all the difference. Since Monday I haven’t wanted to get out of bed, but I remind myself you did it. I can, too. It’s taken a genuine effort, but I’ve done my best. I haven’t left the house. I’ve stayed home and buried myself in books and different worlds, but I’m out of bed. Baby steps.

  To answer your question...My favorite dessert? Raspberry cheesecake. For my birthday, I always asked my mom to make it for me. Maybe I’ll make myself some today and eat the whole thing. I’m not an emotional eater or anything.

  Love, Ruby

  P.S. It’s now only SEVEN days! I’m so overwhelmed with excitement, it helps cut down on the sadness I’ve been feeling.

  P.P.S. Something I’ve been thinking about this week, if I had a superpower what would it be? Fly? Become invisible? Read minds? Then the obvious choice came. Turning back time. I would give anything to go back to June 18, 1992 and keep my mom from going on that plane. But, for the sake of this being a fun, non-depressing question, if I never lost her, I think I would pick flying. How cool would that be? Can you imagine all the time that would be saved not getting stuck in traffic? California traffic suuuuucks. What about you? What superpower would you choose?

  P.P.P.S. I’ll be honest, I’m pretty much taking life one day at a time and ignoring everything else. So, if that’s what you need to do right now, I understand.

  After I finish my letter to Brett I feel a little better. Instead of sprawling on the couch to read, I walk out onto the back deck to relax in our hammock with a book and let the summer air fill my lungs.