Drowning in the East River

by Kimberly Pierce

  David stood up, running his fingers through his hair. Stretching his back, he looked up at the cloudy sky, searching his head for the right thing to say. "Mommy had to go away." He coughed, trying to disguise the break in his voice.

  "You're crying, Daddy." Thomas threw his little arm's around David's knee, hugging him tightly.

  David exhaled sharply and pulled off his glasses, wiping the tears in his eyes. "Daddy's fine." He looked down at Thomas, who was staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes. He smiled gently as he crouched back down to the boy’s level. "Mommy's in a better place.”

  "Do you think she's happy?" Thomas asked, his eyes glowing with the idealism only a child could cling too.

  "I hope so, Thomas," David said, tousling his son's hair gently. "You have no idea how much I hope so.”

  "Hope so?" Thomas asked, looking wide eyed at his father.

  "I know she is," David replied, forcing any doubts to the back of his mind.

  David picked up Thomas, propping him against his chest as he picked up his pace towards the grave. Most of the procession had already congregated in a half circle around the plot.

  David stopped a few feet away, still cradling his son against his chest. He looked at the crushed grass under his feet, deliberately avoiding the mass of eyes staring at him. There was sympathy reflected in the looks, but no one moved towards him.

  A chill reverberated through his body as the casket descended the hillside. The simple oak box was being carried by a few close, Conlon family friends. Still holding his son, David moved up the hill towards where the pallbearers carried the casket.

  As he joined in the procession, David made eye contact with William, who occupied one of the corner positions supporting the coffin. The two men exchanged a small nod.

  The crowd parted as the procession came through, bringing the coffin down gently on the grass.

  As the men faded back into the crowd, David set Thomas down and knelt next to the coffin. He put a gentle hand on the edge of the casket. "I'll miss you, Jess." He kept his words to a barely audible whisper.

  "Are you talking to Mommy?" Thomas asked, raising his head to look at his father. He looked around at the strange surroundings.

  "I'm talking to Mommy," David said, quietly. He spoke gently, swallowing back the emotion from his voice. He could feel all eyes glued to him. "Come on, Thomas." He wrapped his hand around Thomas' shoulder and guided him to their spot in the crowd.

  Father Joseph O’Shea had been at the Conlon's Midtown Irish Catholic parish for close to forty years. As the elderly man stood up and cleared his throat, his eyes swiftly scanned the group of mourners. The weather seemed to be getting colder by the minute as a strong breeze swept off the East River.

  "Thank you all for coming out this morning," the Father said, giving a supportive nod towards Jessica's family. Her sisters remained huddled in a close group, just off his right hand He ran a hand through his hair, smearing his wet and graying hair back away from his face. He rubbed his hands together briskly as he continued. "It is a shame the weather couldn't be better for our service today.”

  David bit his lip; his eyes remaining glued to the coffin. It was a struggle to keep his breath slow and steady against the pressure sitting on his chest. He braced his hands on Thomas' shoulders. The toddler was standing in front of him, staring at the cloudy sky above their heads.

  "I've had the pleasure to know Jessica Conlon since her family came to this country in 1901. Even at a young age, Jessica always stood out to me as a bright and spirited young woman. She had a strong passion for helping those around her towards a sense of physical and spiritual betterment. She was highly active in the native Irish community of lower Midtown.”

  David exhaled sharply; a small smile spread over his face as the fond memories of his wife flooded back to him. Jessica had a fiery passion for political causes, usually siding with hard luck cases. It was probably what drew her to him.

  "It seems a shame, though somehow fitting, that such a girl would be taken from us so soon. It should come as no surprise to any of us that the Holy Father would want Jessica by his side. Jessica's family, as well her husband David Freeman, would like to thank each and every one of you for joining us today. If you would please turn to page 2 in your program, Miss. Anna Conlon would like to lead a reading of her sister's favorite hymn. Then Mr. Freeman would like to have everyone back to their residence for refreshments.”

  David crossed his arms in front of him as he watched the coffin shakily descend into the open grave. A slow murmur spread over the crowd as the mourners slowly headed back up the hill towards the automobiles. An icy wind blew over the cemetery, but David's body felt numb to the cold.

  David looked up at Anna, who was moving to talk to the Father. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes quickly as he followed his sister-in-law. "Would you take Thomas?”

  Her eyes were harsh as she spun to face him. "Are you coming? We have the wake at the apartment…"

  "I'll be up in a minute," David said, sniffling. He quickly wiped his nose with the back of his hand and glanced to the dim and overcast sky to collect himself. He hoped it would look like a reaction to the bitterly cold air hanging over them.

  David dropped down to his knees, and placed his hands on Thomas' elbows. He looked his son straight in the eyes, doing his best to plaster a comforting smile on his face. "Would you be a big boy and take your Aunt to the car?" David asked.

  Thomas nodded his head, he looked between his father and his aunt in tired confusion.

  "Can you do that for Daddy?" David asked, pulling Thomas' cap further down on his head.

  "Yes sir," Thomas mumbled, staring at the ground in front of him. He tugged at the collar of his jacket.

  "I'll be right behind you," David said, pressing on a smile. He could feel the tears starting to well in his eyes again. He shifted his gaze to Anna. "There's just something Daddy needs to take care of here before he comes up.”

  "Come on, Tommy," Anna's voice was hushed, though she kept her tone upbeat for the boy's benefit. "Let's give your Father a minute to himself.”

  David watched as Thomas reached for Anna's hand, following her back up the hillside. He took fast steps, trying to keep pace with her. Thomas didn't look back, leaving David alone by the side of the trodden grass of the now muddy grave. David dropped back into a crouch, clasping his hands in front of him.

  "I love you, baby." David said, his voice barely above a whisper. He exhaled sharply. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Looking up from his introspection, his eyes were drawn to a large headstone. The elegantly carved piece of marble depicted Christ's resurrection, watching the figure of Christ rising elegantly above his group of distraught disciples wailing on the ground below.

  David reached into his pockets and pulled out the rosary beads he had been carrying with him for the last three days. He brought the cool ceramic up to his lips, kissing it. The beads still carried the faint smell of Jess' perfume.

  Almost like he was ripping off a bandaid, David held out his hand and dropped the rosary beads into the open grave. He blinked back tears as he heard the beads clack on the polished wood of Jess' coffin.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Just wanting to sit down, David drifted to the edge of the living room. The pressure in the room was stifling as he tried to escape the prying eyes and the seemingly unending, shallow expressions of sympathy. Having to put on a brave face in front of these people, with all of their pity and expectations, made him sick to his stomach. He just wanted to be alone.

  The sitting room was packed wall to wall with mourners. Usually crowds that large filled the room with a lively hum, but the mood felt lethargic. People whispered amongst themselves, staying huddled in insular groups. Anna hurried around the room, her arms loaded down with a tray of drinks.

  David sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs, dropping his head into his hands. Hearing the nearby clink of glass, David looked up. His
eyes shot over to Thomas, who was sitting dazed in his crib. Toys were strewn around him, unused. The child watched the restrained movement of the room, the confusion growing in his wide eyes.

  "Jessica's in a better place," Father Carlson said, resting a light hand on the David's shoulder.

  "I beg your pardon Father, but that's horse shit." Despite the restrained emotion he could feel quivering in his muscles, his voice sounded flat and tired. His eyes burned, and for the first time in the last three days, he felt cried out. He reached down for the drink sitting on the carpet underneath his chair and took a long sip.

  "You're just speaking out of anger, son." Father Carlson said. With his other hand, the grandfatherly priest slow fingered the gold cross hanging around his neck. "You must make peace with this. I would have thought with your time in Europe….”

  David jumped in, "Father, I beg your pardon, but I'm not your son. I've been hearing this shit since I was five." His voice cracked as the repressed memories flooded back into his head. David ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled sharply. Glancing back up at the Father, he stood up. "My mother is in a better place. My brother is in a better place. Jessica is in a better place. How do you know they're in a better place, Father? Have you been there?”

  "You have to have faith in The Lord," the Father said, his voice adopting the soothing tone he used in his sermons.

  "The Holy Father wanted Jessica with him," Anna said, walking over to the Father's side. She was white knuckling her rosary beads as if they were the literal source of her strength. Her thumb and fore finger rolled and squeezed the tiny cross at the end of the strand. "We can take comfort in that." She looked up at the Father with a look of respect and admiration reserved for Sunday school pupils.

  "Well stated, Anna." The father chimed in. He placed a gentle hand on her forearm as he focused his attention back to David. "Fall back on your faith. It's all we have at times. There's no shame in that.”

  David put his hand out, jumping in awkwardly. "What kind of honest, loving God would take a mother away from her son?" He thought for a moment, glancing back at Thomas. "If he's such a kind and loving god, why would he put anyone through this? Thomas is two years old….”

  The look on Anna's face suggested she'd just been slapped in the face. "How dare you question the Father!" A stunned scoff escaped from her throat as she stared at him, her eyes frozen in horror at his blasphemy. "What on Earth has gotten into you, David?”

  "I'm sure the boy's just speaking out of grief," the Father said, once again turning to Anna. He spoke quickly, not allowing David a chance to reply. "His family's been members of my parish for about as long as the Conlon's have. It was such a shame about what happened to your father, David.”

  "Thank you, Father." David stared at the drink clasped in his hands. He could feel the muscles in his back quivering with tension. Spots floated lazily through his vision.

  Thomas started crying from his crib. The high-pitched wailing echoed through the tiny apartment.

  "How should I tell my son that his mother isn't coming back? How am I supposed to tell him that she bled to death? He's convinced that Jessica didn't love him anymore." David paused for a moment, biting his lip. His voice cracked as he continued. "Her last words to me were that she loved him, and I haven't the slightest idea how to tell him that.”

  "The child knows," Father Carlson said, looking toward the crib. A pained grimace flashed over his face as he turned back to David. He folded his hands peacefully in front of him. "The child will come to learn that his mother is watching over him from heaven.”

  David could feel all the eyes in the apartment boring into the back of his head. They were waiting for him to do something, expecting him to crack under the tragic circumstances. There was a pressure in the glances, daring him to do the right thing by his son, to not make a mistake and make things even worse.

  "Father..." David began.

  "Aren't you going to go to him?"Anna cut in, her voice sharp. Thomas was standing up, frantically rattling the bars, trying to break his way to freedom. Turning back to David, Anna raised a critical eyebrow. "Are you just going to let the child cry all night?”

  Outside the living room window, a drizzle had settled in over Manhattan. The background of the apartment seemed to fade into the fog, as David lost himself in the gloomy atmosphere outside the window.

  "Shouldn't you tend to your son?" Anna asked again, snapping David out of his haze.

  "What?" David asked, wiping his eyes as he shifted his glance back to Anna.

  "The baby," Anna said, putting emphasis on every syllable. She leaned forward at the waist, her hands on her hips. "Are you going to let the child cry all night?”

  Getting to his feet, David white knuckled the back of his chair. The room was spinning around him. He squeezed his eyes closed; the sound of Thomas' wailing overwhelming his senses.

  "I swear," Anna said. She turned to the Father and plastered on a sweet smile. "Half the time I'm not even sure if he knows I'm talking to him. It's been like conversing with a brick wall since Jessica died.”

  Looking at the floor ahead of him, David ignored her and squeezed through the crowds of people filling the living room. Every so often, someone placed a hand on his shoulder or his back in a simple showing of solidarity. No one spoke, they sipped the drinks in their hands quietly, almost afraid to say what could be construed as the wrong thing.

  Stooping at the waist, David slowly reached into the crib and wrapped his hands around Thomas' waist. He sucked in a deep breath as he lifted the child into his body. Still screaming, Thomas thrashed violently in his father's arms, slapping at the big hands around his waist. His voice morphed from a cry into a shrill scream. "No! I want Mommy!”

  "Shhhh," David said, trying to keep his voice gentle while still being heard over the crying. He held Thomas out in front of him, meeting the young boy's eyes. He blinked back a shudder of deja vu. His voice was quiet and firm as he desperately tried to get his son's attention. "Thomas, I'm here.”

  "I want Mommy!" Thomas screamed, tears and snot streaming down his face. He slapped and pushed at his father's chest trying to get his point across.

  "Daddy's here," David said, bouncing the baby gently in his arms. He hugged him tightly to his chest.

  David squeezed his eyes shut. "Daddy loves you, Thomas." His words came out harsh and choked as he placed a gentle hand on the back of Thomas' head. "Daddy loves you.”

  "Don't want you! I want Mommy!" Thomas screamed, tears continued to stream down his chubby cheeks as he thrashed violently in David's arms.

  "I can't do this," David hiccuped, practically dropping the screaming child back in his crib. His breathing came in short, raspy bursts.

  "Where are you going? You can't leave in the middle of the wake." Anna asked, running after David as he moved towards the front door. There was a mixture of panic, and outrage in her voice. She caught up to him as he reached towards the knob. "You're going to that whore, aren't you?”

  The tone of the conversations surrounding him seemed to drop as people watched him out of the corner of their eyes.

  "I can't do this alone." David said, not turning around to look at her. He wiped his eyes quickly; his tear ducks burned as he glanced in his son's direction. He stammered as he struggled to continue, "I can't - I don't know how raise him without Jess.”

  "You have a son!" Anna's voice was barely above a whisper in an attempt to not make a scene. She reached out for his arm as he put his hand on the doorknob. She took off her glasses, rare emotion brimming in her eyes. Her voice broke slightly as she spoke. "What about Thomas? You can’t just leave. How can you possibly be so selfish?”

  "It isn't fair to him." David turned back to face her as he pushed open the door. Tears were brimming in his eyes again. He wiped at his eyes quickly. "Just take care of Thomas for me."

  Unable to meet her disappointed glance, he stared at a spot on the floor just behind her.

  Anna stammered, blinds
ided by the abruptness of his request. "What?" She wiped her hands on her apron. She put a hand out, leaning heavily on the doorknob.

  "Anna, you- you're his aunt," David said. He took a half step, turning his back to the crib. Looking Thomas in the eye would only shake his resolve to do what he knew was best. He continued slowly, thinking through each word, trying to keep his surging emotion from his voice. "Please. I won't be able to raise him as well as you and Katherine could. I want you to take him. I need you to do this for me.”

  Her defeat and disappointment in him was evident in her face as she looked him up and down. "When are you coming back?" She pulled her hand off the doorknob, placing it on her hips. "What do you intend on doing?”

  "I don't know," He crossed his arms in front of him, chewing on his thumbnail in hopes of centering himself. He looked back towards Anna. "I need to figure some things out. I'll send you money for him- just- Please take good care of him.”