Crystal Lies

by Melody Carlson

  We barely finished before it was time for the service to begin, but when we got to the sanctuary, it was packed. Standing room only. Marsha and Walter had been smart enough to have someone save them seats, but I hadn’t even thought about it. Feeling somewhat dismayed that we were forced to stand in the back by the entrance, I reminded myself that this was probably exactly where we belonged. After all, Jacob had been spared that night. My son had survived, even though he was the kid who continually pushed the envelope, testing his limits, playing with fire. And yet he was still standing. And Matthew, the good boy, was taken. How odd of God.

  I sneaked furtive glances at my son during the service, wondering if any of this was getting to him. Did he realize how lucky he was that this funeral was Matthew’s and not his? Did he realize that his luck could run out at any given moment? I looked at the backpack now slung loosely over his shoulder and wondered about its contents. A mini meth lab perhaps? No, of course not, I scolded myself. Maybe I was growing delusional. Perhaps as another side effect of my son’s troubling addiction. Maybe this was the result of the perennial umbilical cord that never seemed to completely detach itself—at least in my mind. Maybe the drugs were funneling from Jacob to me. Or maybe I was simply losing my mind.

  I tried not to feel envious when I spied Sarah and Geoffrey seated comfortably just one row behind the immediate family. Naturally, they hadn’t even considered saving spots for Jacob and me. Not surprising. I wondered if they would even speak to us afterward. I wondered why I even cared. Although I do love my daughter dearly. And I realized that I was as much to blame as anyone for her selfishness. I didn’t think it would make any difference if she spoke to me or not.

  It seemed everyone at the service was in tears by the time it ended. Well, everyone but my son. But I was trying not to look at him. Instead I tried to listen as the pastor reminded us that Matthew had given his heart to God as a teenager and that, although he’d gone through a brief rebellion following high school, he had returned to the fold during his second year in college.

  “It’s just one of those unexplainable events that we will probably never fully understand,” he continued. “Not until we stand face to face before God. But we do know this: God doesn’t make mistakes. And even though Matthew and his friends may have made some mistakes that fateful night, the eve of Matthew’s twenty-first birthday, we can be assured that God the Father was watching. His hand was on Matthew’s shoulder. And even now, Matthew is safe in his heavenly Father’s arms and…” He continued to speak, but I had difficulty focusing on the words after that.

  My mind felt like a captive bird trapped in a pitch-black box, as if I were fluttering about in the darkness trying to find an escape but banging into walls and falling down and beating myself into oblivion. My head felt light and dizzy as I stood in the doorway, swaying.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” whispered Jacob.

  “I’m not sure…”

  Then he took me by the hand and led me out to the foyer where he found an empty bench by the rest rooms and helped me sit down. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Just feeling faint,” I said. I leaned over and took a deep breath to steady myself.

  “You want me to get someone?” he asked as he sat down beside me.

  “No, no…I’m fine,” I muttered. “You go back in there, Jake.” But he stayed by my side, and we listened to the remainder of the service from the bench by the rest rooms.

  Finally the speaking stopped, and a woman sang. I was feeling better now, a bit guilty for removing Jacob from the actual service. I turned to encourage him to go back in there but noticed he now had tears running down his cheeks. The first I’d seen today. I reached over and put my arm around his shoulders, pulling him toward me. To my relief, he didn’t resist.

  “I’ll go in, Mom,” he whispered.

  “I’ll wait out here. You go on back into the sanctuary,” I said. “No, I mean I’ll go into rehab. I’ll go.”

  My heart leaped with hope, and although I knew it was wrong to feel so elated at the funeral for my best friend’s son, I just couldn’t help myself. I hugged Jacob and promised him he wouldn’t be sorry.

  The rest of the funeral passed in a blur for me. As expected, Geoffrey and Sarah were somewhat cool and reserved when we went over to say hello to them after the service ended. And I could feel them both looking at Jacob in that way—as if they were simultaneously thinking what an embarrassing loser he was. Perhaps they felt the same about me, too. Who could be sure? Even so, I wanted to tell them that things were going to change soon, that Jacob had just agreed to go into rehab and would be getting much better. But I kept quiet since I wasn’t sure how Jacob would feel. It should be up to him to make this kind of announcement to his family. Most important, he had made the decision for himself. And on the pretense of using the rest room, I went outside and called Hope’s Wings on my cell phone, making an appointment for Jacob to be evaluated the next morning.

  “We’re so glad for you, Mrs. Harmon,” said the receptionist named Susan. “Jacob has been on our prayer list ever since you first came in here.”

  “Thank you,” I told her. “I really appreciate it.”

  “See you two at ten tomorrow,” she said.

  “Yes.” I hung up and wondered if Jacob would be able to make it that long. But I knew that was the earliest they could see him. Still, I remembered what had happened the last time, when I had gone by myself. It was less than twenty-four hours, but I knew that anything could happen between now and then.

  I was about to go back inside when I got a whiff of cigarette smoke. I turned and was shocked to see Sherry standing by a fire exit with her back to me, and she was smoking.

  “Sherry?” I said as I walked over to her.

  Without turning around, she dropped her cigarette, crushed it beneath her shoe, then turned to see me. “Glennis, what are you doing out here?”

  I smiled sheepishly at her. I could tell she was embarrassed, but then so was I. “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  She squirted some breath spray in her mouth, then tucked it back into her purse. “I used to smoke, back in my college days and up until the boys were born. Don’t ask me why, but I took it up again the day after Matthew died.” She shook her head. “I know it’s totally crazy. I can’t even explain it myself. But it’s like I needed to do it.”

  I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “I think I understand.”

  “Really?” she looked skeptical.

  I nodded. “How are you doing?”

  She shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”

  I could see, even beyond the dark glasses, that her eyes were still puffy. “This is so hard,” I said.

  “Yes, especially when everyone keeps coming up and saying something really sweet about Matthew. It’s like I just couldn’t take it anymore. I know that’s horrible. They’re only trying to help. But I really needed a break.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t believe I sneaked outside the church to smoke. My reputation will be shot.”

  I smiled. “I don’t think anyone saw you.”

  “What’re you doing out here?”

  “I was just calling Hope’s Wings.” I tried to suppress my happiness over Jacob’s sudden turn of heart. “He’s decided to go in, Sherry,” I told her. “I made an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

  She hugged me. “That’s wonderful, Glennis.”

  “Well, tomorrow’s still a ways off. And remember what happened last time.”

  “I’ll be praying especially for him.” She sighed. “If God had to take my son, the least he can do is give you back yours.”

  I felt that familiar stab of guilt again. “Oh, its not really like that, Sherry.”

  She waved her hand. “I know. But I guess it’s just starting to sink in, Glennis. I mean the way that Matthew died. At first, I couldn’t understand how Rod was so focused on the kids who took Matthew to the bar that night and how they bough
t him those drinks. But now I do. Now I’m really getting angry. Bitter even. Rod is talking about getting a lawyer and seeking some kind of murder charges.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and maybe against the bar, too.” She made a fist and shook it. “I mean what kind of place allows stupid young kids to buy twenty-one shots for one person to consume? Bartenders are supposed to be trained to know that half that amount can seriously hurt someone. It was irresponsible.”

  I nodded. “You’re right.”

  “And according to Brent, Matthew’s roommate at college, Matthew hadn’t been into the party scene at all this year. So his body wouldn’t have been accustomed to alcohol. Our family doctor said that Matthew was probably legally drunk after just a few drinks and that as a result he wouldn’t have been thinking clearly when he consumed the others. Rod says it must at least be a clear-cut case of manslaughter if not second-degree murder.”

  “Oh, Sherry, that’s so sad.”

  “Sad and wrong.” She was pulling out her package of cigarettes now. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  She held the red and white package out to me. “Want to try one?” I studied the pack of Marlboros and inwardly cringed. Smoking had never appealed to me. But then I decided, I can do this for Sherry. So I took one. And feeling like a delinquent junior high girl, I glanced both ways as I waited for her to first light hers, then mine. I took a tentative puff, then immediately began coughing and sputtering uncontrollably.

  “Shh,” she warned me, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was around.

  I regained my composure but decided that smoking was probably not going to solve any of my problems. Even so, I pretended to smoke with her. For some reason it seemed the right thing to do.

  “Thanks,” she told me. Then we both used her breath spray and went back inside.

  “I know it seems impossible to believe,” I told her as we walked down a hall toward the sounds of voices in the fellowship hall,“but somehow I believe you’re going to get through this, Sherry. And that you’ll be stronger for it.”

  She stopped walking and turned and looked at me. “And do you believe that for yourself, too, Glennis?”

  I frowned. “I’d like to. But most of the time I don’t think I’m as strong as you are.”

  She grabbed my arm and stared into my eyes. “Yes, you are! If I can survive losing Matthew, you can survive this thing with Jacob too.” I nodded. “Right. Maybe you’re right.”

  The crowd in the fellowship hall had definitely thinned, and I was relieved to see that Jacob was still there. I realized I had taken quite a risk by being gone that long. But fortunately he’d been roped in by Walter to put away chairs. I helped out in the kitchen, but it wasn’t long before I noticed Jacob trying to catch my eye, and I knew it was time for us to go.

  “You were a good sport,” I told him as we headed for the parking lot. “Thanks.”

  “Well, Walter’s pretty funny. In an old-guy kind of way. Did you know he used to be a surfer dude?”

  “No, I barely know them. Marsha is a friend of Sherry’s.”

  Then Jacob told me about some of Walter’s adventures in surfing, and for a few moments I almost believed that I’d gone back in time. Like when Jacob was still in high school and still doing the normal things. But when we got to the apartment building, instead of going up with me, Jacob announced that he wanted to take a walk.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s freezing cold out here, and you don’t even have on a coat.”

  “I’ve got a sweatshirt in my pack,” he assured me.

  “Will you be home in time for dinner?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he promised with a somewhat convincing smile.

  Even so, I had a feeling he wouldn’t. I had a suspicion that I wouldn’t see my son again for a while. If at all. I trudged up the stairs to my apartment as if lead weights were tied around my ankles. I felt almost certain that all my hopes for Jacob had been in vain today. I wondered if I should call Hope’s Wings and tell them to give tomorrow’s ten o’clock appointment to someone else. Someone who might actually show up.

  Just the same, I stayed home all afternoon and evening, hoping against hope that I was completely wrong about Jacob. I even prayed to be wrong, and I begged God to tap Jacob on the shoulder, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, and to tell him that it was time to come home now.

  But when I went to bed that night—quite late—I knew Jacob wasn’t coming home. I knew I had, once again, been deceived. When would I ever learn? Never trust an addict.

  Early the next morning I awoke to someone knocking loudly on my door. I grabbed my robe, and, imagining a state trooper standing with his hat in his hands ready to give me the bad news, I hurried to see who was there. To my complete surprise, it was my own prodigal.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “It got pretty late last night,” he said as he came in and dropped his backpack on the floor. “I decided to spend the night at a friends so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

  I didn’t mention that his absence had caused me to stay awake most of the night anyway. I was just thankful he’d come back. “Do you think you can make it to Hope’s Wings?” I said.

  “I guess.”

  “That’s great, Jacob.” My life returned to me as I went into the kitchen and started to make coffee. “How about I make us both a nice breakfast.”

  Jacob sat down on a stool at the counter, but I could tell by his fidgeting and the way his eyes kept darting around the room, almost as if he expected someone to jump out from behind a corner, that it was going to be touch and go with him. It was possible that he could still bolt before it was time to leave for the appointment. As a result I felt I needed to tread carefully, to keep the conversation upbeat and positive, and to focus his attention on everything but the obvious.

  “Eggs?” I asked as I surveyed the contents of the refrigerator.

  “I guess.”

  “Did you get to talk to your sister much yesterday?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Barely. I think she was trying to avoid me.”

  “Join the club,” I told him. “I think she was avoiding me, too.”

  “Why?” he said. “Why should she avoid you?”

  I shook my head as I cracked another egg. “Because of what’s going on between me and your dad.”

  “What is going on?” He put his elbows on the counter and leaned forward with interest. “I mean, I know you think he’s having an affair. But have you guys talked or anything?”

  Relieved that we’d come up with a topic to distract Jacob from the rehab appointment, I decided to be completely honest with him. I told him about my last conversation with Geoffrey and how he was already moving toward a divorce.

  “Wow.” Jacob sighed as I handed him a plate of eggs and toast. “That’s pretty harsh.”

  I shrugged. “I guess it was inevitable.”

  “Do you have a lawyer yet?”

  I sat down and shook my head. “Things got kind of crazy after that. What with Matthew’s death and the service and everything.”

  “But you’re going to get a lawyer, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess?” Jacob pointed his fork at me. “Mom, you have to get a lawyer. Sheesh, dad is a lawyer, and he’ll probably hire some sleazebag divorce lawyer and try to get away with everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “I mean all the money.”

  I attempted a smile. “I don’t really care about the money, Jacob. Besides, it was mostly your dad’s money. It came from his grandparents.”

  “But what about us?” demanded Jacob. “Well, me, I guess. I’m sure Daddy Dearest will give perfect Sarah anything she wants. But what about me? I’m part of the family too. What if Dad just totally writes me off?”

  “Oh, Jacob, your father would never—”

  “You don’t know, Mom. You don’t really know how he feels about me. I’m pre
tty sure he hates me. He probably wishes that was my funeral yester—”

  “Jacob!” I firmly shook my head. “Your dad might be upset about some…well, some things. But he really does love you.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Mom.”

  I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t like how this conversation had deteriorated so quickly. “You may be right about getting a lawyer though, Jacob,” I said. “But don’t worry about finances. Really, we’ll be just fine.”

  “Just fine?” He frowned. “You told me yourself that you’re barely scraping by, Mom. And I don’t make enough money to support both of us.”

  I smiled. “You don’t even have a job right now, Jacob.”

  “Yeah, but I can get something,” he assured me. “There are always ways to make money.”

  “Well, don’t worry about me, Jacob,” I said again. “I’ve got some money put aside, and I can always go back to teaching or substituting.”

  “I thought you didn’t like substituting.”

  “Well, it’s better than nothing.” I picked up our empty plates. “And maybe it would be good for me to get out more anyway.”

  “But substituting?” He made a face. “Kids treat subs like dirt, Mom.”

  I rinsed the plates. “I know.” And I did know The last time I had substituted, only to keep my certificate current, was a complete and total disaster. I had subbed for a middle-school English teacher, a friend of mine who had warned me it wouldn’t be easy. The one-week assignment had felt more like a year. And when it was done, I had sworn I’d never do it again.

  But life had changed a lot since then. And maybe we don’t always get to choose what we want. Maybe we just have to take what life dishes out sometimes. And maybe my punishment for failing at both my marriage and motherhood was to spend the rest of my life substituting for a bunch of beastly middle-school kids.