She was on the phone with Julian when I came back in the room. “Yeah, we just got here. I’ll call you when we figure everything out, okay?” She paused. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She paused again. “Because, Julian, she doesn’t need that right now. Trust me when I say I know what’s best, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.” She hung up and threw her phone on the bed. “Sorry, that was Julian.”
“I figured. What isn’t a good idea?”
“Leave it. Trust me when I say it’s not a good idea, okay?”
I was too tired to press her for more information. I just nodded and flopped onto the bed. I hoped that when I woke up, this would all be over.
My dreams were chaotic; nothing made sense. Frannie was running, and I was trying to catch her, but I couldn’t quite get her hand. Every time I got close, she would slip away.
I OPENED MY EYES, AND for a second, I didn't know where I was. I heard voices outside and turned toward the window. A moment later, Sadie came in the room, followed by Ruth.
“What’s going on?” I sat up.
“The police called this morning and want you to come down to ID the body and answer some questions.” Ruth frowned.
“Okay, let me get dressed and I can go.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.
“No, stay with Chad. He’s going to need you now.”
“Well, I’m going then.” Sadie left no room for argument.
I nodded and dug around in the suitcase she had packed for something to wear. What did one wear to identify her mom’s body? I settled on jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt.
The hotel was within walking distance of the police station, so Sadie and I walked instead of driving. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, linking her fingers with mine as we walked.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.” I squeezed her hand as we walked through the glass door of the police station.
“Hi, I’m Becca Langer. I was told I needed to come in and answer some questions.”
“Have a seat, please.” The woman behind the counter looked at me with sad eyes and gestured to the row of plastic chairs against the far wall.
“You can do this,” Sadie whispered to me.
I smiled weakly, suddenly really nervous.
“Miss Langer? I’m Detective Sheen.” He was tall and broad shouldered with salt and pepper hair and a bristly mustache..
“Yes, that’s me. This is my friend.” I gestured to Sadie.
“If you both would come back with me.”
I nodded and we followed him back through the rows of desks to a small room I assumed they used for interrogations and interviews. “Have a seat,” he said.
“Can you tell me how it happened?” I asked softly.
“She passed out in her car in the garage while the motor was running. The carbon monoxide was what did it. She was gone within an hour. A neighbor of hers found her.”
I didn’t know what to say, or what I had expected him to say. As much as I’d hated her, it made me sad that she had died alone.
“Can you tell me if your mother had a history of mental illness?” he asked.
“Why? Do you think this was a suicide?”
“We’re just exploring all of the avenues.”
“No, she was a drunk, but she wasn’t mentally ill.” If she had been, it would have been easier for me to love her. At least she would have had an excuse for her behavior.
“Was it common for her to pass out when she drank?”
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded and wrote something on his clipboard. “We’re going to need you to identify the body, just to be totally sure. Are you up to that today?”
“I, I think so, yes.” Sadie squeezed my hand.
“Did you drive here?” he asked.
“No, we walked from the hotel.”
“Okay, we can drive over in a patrol car, as long as you don't mind sitting in the back.”
“It’s fine.” I shrugged.
We followed him out the back door to the big lot where the patrol cars were parked.
“The hospital isn’t far from here. Oh, I forgot that you used to live here, so you know.”
I looked out the window as we drove, all the familiar sights streaking past me. I should have felt at home, but I felt like a stranger.
The morgue was on the bottom floor of the hospital. We took the elevator straight down, and Detective Sheen told us to wait for him outside.
My heart beat faster. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered to Sadie.
“You can, honey. I’ll be right there with you, holding your hand.”
Sheen came back out and led us through the door he had just come through. It smelled like antiseptic, and it was colder than I had expected it to be. We followed him to the end of the long aisle, to the last metal bed. My heart pounded in my chest, and the sound of blood rushing through my ears blocked everything else out. I squeezed Sadie’s hand hard enough to make her flinch, but she didn’t tell me to stop.
Detective Sheen lifted up the paper drape that had been laid over the body, just enough so I could see her face. “Miss Langer, is this your mother?” he asked gently.
Mom… “Yes, it’s her,” I whispered before turning and bolting for the door, dragging Sadie behind me.
“Oh, that was awful.” Sadie hugged me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. I wasn't okay. This whole trip had stirred up emotions I didn't want to feel. I sat down on the metal bench outside of the door while Sadie spoke with Detective Sheen.
“We’re all done now,” she came back and told me. “He’s going to drop us back at the hotel. But we need to make arrangements for the body; they can't keep her here for much longer.”
I nodded and let her lead me back to the elevator. I didn't remember driving back to the hotel, or her putting me back into my bed. When I woke up a few hours later, the sun was just setting, and long shadows chased each other across the walls. Ruth was sitting in the chair by the door reading. She smiled when I sat up.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better, I think. I wasn't prepared for that, for all of it.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Where’s Chad?”
“With Sadie. They went to get some dinner. Are you ready to talk about some things concerning your mother?”
“I guess,” I said.
“I made some arrangements to have the funeral home pick up her body. The funeral will be in two days if that’s all right with you?” She looked at me for confirmation and I motioned for her to continue. “As for her house, the bank says you need to vacate in thirty days.”
“There’s nothing of mine there.”
“What do you want to do with your mother’s things?” she asked.
“I really don't care.”
Ruth nodded. “Okay, I know Chad has some things he wanted to get from the house. Pictures, things like that.”
“I’ll take him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very. It should be me who goes,” I said.
Ruth looked like she wanted to insist on coming, but she didn’t. “Are you hungry?” I shook my head. “Becca, you need to eat; you haven’t had anything all day.”
“I’m not hungry,” I argued.
“Sadie’s told me you haven’t been eating.”
“I’ve been going through some stuff. I’m eating, just not as much as I used to.”
“Please, just take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will.” But we both knew that was a lie. I didn’t care about eating, or anything else. “I’m going to go out for a while” I threw on my shoes and a jacket and left before she could protest.
Once I was outside, I started running, I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to get away, away from all of it. It was just too much to bear. I ended up in front of my old house. So many awful things had happened inside those four walls. Wo
uld my demons always chase me? Would I ever get away from them?
There was still a spare key under one of the fake rocks. I wasn't surprised that my mom never moved it. I let myself in and looked around. The place was horrendous; without Chad or me there, she had let it get really bad. There were food containers strewn across the floor, and dirty dishes piled up on every open surface. The smell made me gag.
I forced myself to walk through all the garbage toward the back of the house. There was only one thing I wanted from this place, and I knew where she kept it. In the back of my mom’s closet, in a cardboard box, were the only memories I had of my sister. She had kept them here, in the dark, like Frannie wasn’t worthy of the light.
I clutched the box to my chest and walked back outside onto the porch, flipping the top off. Inside were all the little mementos from Frannie’s life. Her baby blanket, a lock of her hair from her first haircut. There were pictures of us as toddlers, in the tub together, running around in the backyard. There was one with my mom, holding Frannie and me and smiling. She was pregnant with Chad in the picture, and our little hands were on her belly. Chad had loved Frannie so much; she was always so good with him. I wondered what she would look like now, and who she would have become. I hated my father for taking her from me, from us.
The tears began to fall. I cried for Frannie, and for the family I lost out on. But mostly, I cried for the love I had never known from my mom.
I BROUGHT CHAD BACK TO the house. He had said he needed to see it. The day was dark and overcast, like the universe knew how crappy life was right now.
“Are you going to come in with me?” he asked. We stood on the top step to the porch, looking at the front door.
“I will if you need me to. Just be prepared; it’s bad in there.”
He clenched his jaw. I could tell he felt a tremendous amount of guilt. He had fallen back into their old pattern as soon as she had called him.
“Stop,” I told him. “I’m not going in there with you if you continue to feel guilty and beat yourself up. She was the parent, not us. It was not our responsibility to take care of her. You have to know that, right?”
“I know it in my head, but it’s hard to stop feeling it. You know?”
“I do know. Mom was always good about laying on the guilt. But no more. She can’t hurt either of us ever again.”
I unlocked the door and let him in. He sucked in a breath, taking in the squalor she had been living in. “It’s worse than I’d imagined.”
“It always was with her. Come on, it’s not so bad toward the back of the house.” I gave him a gentle push to get him moving. He walked around the house that had once been ours, stopping in front of the dark spot on the filthy carpet where Frannie had taken her last breath. He knelt down and ran his fingers over it.
“I miss her, too,” I whispered.
“You never talk about her anymore.” He turned to look at me.
“Sometimes it’s too hard to talk about her, to remember how amazing she was. Frannie was the light to my dark. Even as kids she kept me balanced. Just because I don't talk about her doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.”
“Do you ever think that if we had just not been there that night, that she would still be alive?” His voice was barely a whisper. He said the thing I had asked myself a million times. I had always wondered. If I had just insisted we leave, would she would still be here?
“I don’t know. I ask myself that all the time. If I would have just made us go. I’m the oldest; it was my responsibility to make sure we were safe.”
“I... Becca.” He stood and hugged me. “It wasn’t your job to make us safe. Our parents were supposed to do that. You were a child, too.”
I wanted to leave and never come back. This house brought my demons to the forefront. I forced myself to stay for Chad, though. I watched as he moved from room to room, touching pictures, and tidying up.
“You don’t have to clean,” I said.
“It’s not right for anyone to see it like this. To see that we lived here in a place like this.”
I got what he was saying, and I began to clean alongside him. An hour later, we were seated on the front porch with bags of trash all around us. “Do you feel better?” I asked.
“I don’t know if better is what I’d call it, but I feel lighter. You came here last night?”
“I did. I took the only thing that mattered. Frannie’s box.”
He leaned over and hugged me tight. “We’ll always have each other, right?”
“No matter what, Chad. No matter where I am, I will always come home for you.”
We held each other and sobbed. I dreaded making the funeral arrangements, and I doubted anyone would even come. No one liked our family; the only friends my mom had ever had were fellow drunks she would meet in the bars.
Ruth asked me question after question that I didn’t have answers to. I didn’t know what her wishes were, or if she’ had a will. I didn’t know what we were going to do with all of the stuff in the house, or if it was even worth trying to save.
“I know this is hard, but we need to start making some decisions,” Ruth prodded gently.
“Sell everything. I don’t want any of it.”
We decided to have the funeral in two days, the soonest the funeral home could schedule it. I needed this to be over, and then I would never have to come back here again. She made arrangements for the house to be cleaned out, and for everything inside to be either donated or sold. Not for the first time, I was grateful for her.
I left it up to her to decide on the coffin and all of that. I just couldn’t make myself care. Sadie took me to go buy something to wear for the funeral. We walked through the mall, to store after store. She made me try on dresses, pants, skirts. I just didn't care what I wore. She found a dress she said looked nice, so I bought it.
This place, my home, it was toxic. I could feel myself dying, becoming who I used to be. I saw the looks on the faces of people as we passed them. I heard the whispers. It was just like it used to be. No one cared that, inside, I was broken and lost. They only saw us from the outside. They saw the drunk mom and the kids in clothes that were two sizes too small.
“What are you thinking?” Sadie asked while we ate frozen yogurt in the food court.
“That I hate this place.”
“I’m sorry you had to come back.”
“This will be the last time. Never again.”
I was worried about what this was doing to Chad as well. He had totally withdrawn into himself. His guilt was palpable, and it was eating him up. I didn’t know how to make it better for him.
“Are you ready?” Sadie asked.
“Yeah.”
We went back to the hotel. There was someone waiting for me when we got there. A lawyer, in charge of my mom’s estate. I thought it was funny that she had even had an estate. I was informed that she hadn't left a single thing to Chad or me. She’d left it all to my dad not that there was anything besides crap and debt. Not surprising. He was the one she loved, and this just proved it. My mom was a horrible person. When the lawyer left, I sat staring out the window.
“Are you okay?” Sadie asked.
I laughed. “Why wouldn't I be? This is par for the course with her. She loved the man who murdered her daughter, and not the remaining children she had.” I could feel the hysteria bubble up to the surface. This was all too much. “Why didn’t she love us? We only wanted her to love us, nothing else. That’s not too much to ask for, right? Parents are supposed to love and protect their children. Why didn’t she protect us from him?” I broke down, crying convulsively.
Sadie took me in her arms and rocked me while I cried. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had the answers you needed.” She rubbed my back in small circles.
ON THE MORNING OF THE funeral, the sky opened up and poured rain on us as we walked to the limo Ruth had arranged. Chad clutched my hand tightly in his own. When we got to the funeral home, I was surprised to see Julian, dressed in a blac
k suit, standing in front of the entrance. Sometimes you don't have to ask for support; sometimes it shows up anyway.
I looked at Sadie. “Did you know he was coming?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I’m glad he did.”
“Me, too.” She patted my hand.
“Thanks for coming,” I said and hugged him.
“You never have to ask, Becca; it’s what friends do.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “How are you? Are you okay?”
“I will be once this is over.”
“He wanted to come…” he whispered. My heart stopped for a moment. “I told him it was a bad idea. You don’t need that on top of this.”
I nodded. I did need him, though, more than I ever had needed him before. Part of me wished that he hadn’t listened to Julian and had come anyway.
We all filed into the small room they used for the funerals. As I thought, we were the only ones there. It should have made me sad that no one loved her enough to show up to her funeral, but it didn’t.
“Would anyone like to say a few words?” the funeral director asked.
“No.” I shook my head and gripped Chad’s hand in my own.
The service was short. He spoke of her love for her children; obviously he hadn’t known her personally. We were led out behind the building to where the cemetery was. Chad and I huddled under a big umbrella as we walked together.
“Holding up okay?” I asked him.
“I guess.” He shrugged, but he didn’t say anything else.
At the gravesite, we all stood and watched as they lowered the coffin into the ground. In my head, I thought of Frannie’s funeral. That was the last time I had been here. I remember crying so hard, and Chad and I clinging to each other as June, our neighbor, stood next to us. My mom had stood on the other side of the grave from us, dry-eyed.
Chad broke down as they lowered the coffin all the way into the ground. I wished I could take his pain away. I hugged him, because there wasn’t anything else I could do for him. As we drove away, part of me was relieved. I could finally close this chapter of my life, and maybe let go of some of the anger I had been holding inside for so long.
The Harder I Fall Page 14
