by Wendy Owens
He didn’t reply, but it was clear he was not pleased with the current circumstances. We all took a seat, and I struggled with where to begin.
“Would you like anything to drink, sweetie?” Maggie offered. I didn’t dare look to Mr. Stirling, but I could feel his eyes. I wanted to do this and get out of there as quickly as possible.
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” I replied.
“Very well,” Maggie replied, crossing her hands delicately over her lap. “What brings you to our home today?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Maggie,” I began.
“About what?” Mr. Stirling demanded, raising his voice slightly.
Part of me considered calling for Colin right then, but I knew I needed to get through this on my own. “What we discussed in New York, Mr. Stirling. I felt like she deserved to hear it directly from me.”
“She deserved to hear it three years ago,” he snapped.
“I agree, but—” I began, before Maggie interrupted me.
“What conversation in New York?” she questioned. My mouth fell open. How had he not told her everything that had happened? I couldn’t fathom how he might have explained the bruise on his cheek.
“Nothing,” Mr. Stirling replied quickly, hopping to his feet he began to pace like a caged animal.
“Child, you need to tell me everything,” she instructed, not looking at her husband.
“No! I’m not going to let her come in here and spin her lies. There is nothing she could say that I think either of us should listen to. She wasn’t there for our son, and when you needed her, she wasn’t here for you either,” Mr. Stirling said, stopping for the moment to talk to his wife.
“And you were? Darling,” her tone was cool, as she directed her statement at Mr. Stirling, “I’ll decide who was there for me and who wasn’t. You can either sit down and remain silent, or leave the room.”
Mr. Stirling gasped, and in a huff, exited the room, making his way through the dining area and into their kitchen, where he proceeded to slam the cabinets and make a general raucous.
“Don’t mind him. Please, continue,” she urged. I didn’t want to create any problems between Mr. and Mrs. Stirling. I could only imagine what their marriage had endured since Ashton had been taken from them. I would do my best to limit the damage.
“I came because I wanted to tell you about that night… the night Ashton—” I stopped. I couldn’t say it, at least not to his mother.
“Killed himself.” To my surprise, she did it for me.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I offered. She nodded, motioning for me to continue. “That night, I wasn’t completely honest about everything, and the way it happened.”
“In what way?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. Was this it? Had the time come where I was actually going to tell his mother that I could have prevented his death? Did I have the nerve to tell her I instead encouraged him?
“Maggie, you have to believe me, I didn’t tell you a lot of this because I didn’t want to change the way you looked at your son,” I explained.
“I doubt anything you could say would change the way I look at Ashton,” she replied. I wasn’t sure if she meant that she was confident in her opinion of who he was, or that she thought of me as a liar. I decided not to dwell on the statement.
“Ashton and I had been having trouble in our marriage, almost since the beginning. We were trying—I mean, I didn’t want our marriage to be over, but it had become so hard.” From the way she was looking at me, I worried I wasn’t conveying the story properly.
“Marriage can be hard. I know Ashton’s father and I have struggled at times,” Maggie offered. I felt even more like a hopeless disappointment in that moment. I knew Mr. Stirling could be unbearable, yet somehow she had managed to make it work with the man all of these years. I gave up on her only child so quickly. I prepared myself for what was to come next—there was no way I could say this so that she would take it well. I was about to break her heart, and that’s all there was to it.
“It felt like I had been trying for so long, but things weren’t getting better. They were worse. I know I told everyone I found Ashton when I came home from the grocery store, but that’s not how it happened.” My voice began to quiver, and I thought I might not be able to go through with it.
Maggie scooted to the edge of her seat, leaning forward; she reached out and placed her hand on top of mine. Looking up at her, in those sympathetic grief filled eyes, a tear escaped, rolling down my cheek, and I heaved, struggling to control my breathing. “It’s all right, I’m right here.”
She was here, in the moment, at least she would be until I told her what a terrible person I was. She needed to know the truth, and I was about to give it to her, if I could just hold it together long enough. “I told him that night I was leaving—we were over. He begged me not to go. I should have listened to him; I never should have turned my back on him.”
“I know how hard the Stirling men can be, Clementine. I’m sure had you known what was going to happen you would have been there.”
Was there nothing I could say that would make this woman hate me? Yes, there was one thing. “He told me.”
She furrowed her brow, her hand still on mine. From the corner of my eye I could see Mr. Stirling standing in the doorway leading to the dining room, watching us. “Told you what?”
I dared not look up at Ashton’s father, and instead kept my eyes trained on Maggie. “He told me if I left him he would kill himself. I told him to do what he had to do, but I was leaving.”
“You see!” Mr. Stirling shouted, rushing over. “She’s a murderer. We let her in our lives, we loved her like she was our daughter, and she repays us by killing our son.”
There it was—that was the reaction I had expected; yet from Maggie I still got nothing. She sat there with a blank stare.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, unable to hold back the onslaught of tears, letting them flow freely down my cheeks.
“You’re sorry? She’s sorry!” Mr. Stirling shouted. “Sorry doesn’t bring Ashton back to us. What we should do is call the police right now. You should be in jail, that’s where you should be.”
I dropped my head in shame. Perhaps he was right.
“Robert,” Maggie spoke again at last, choosing her words carefully. “I won’t ask you again to be silent.”
“What? Me?” he cried, staring at his wife in disbelief.
“Yes, you! Ashton was your son through and through. Why do you think he drank so much? His father was an alcoholic. Why would he have been anything different? Our son had his problems, before he ever met Clementine, and it is not fair for you to put all of that on this poor girl,” Maggie condemned her husband.
“How dare—” he began.
“How dare nothing!” Maggie snapped. “You know the things I’m saying are true. We’ll talk about this later.”
He turned on his heel, darting up the stairs, outraged by the confrontation.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. The past few years have been particularly hard on Ashton’s father,” Maggie explained. I didn’t know if I should hug her for her kindness or shake her and ask why she wasn’t screaming at me. “I have something of my own I should have shared with you a long time ago. I suppose for not telling you, I somewhat blame myself for what happened.”
“Oh no, Mrs. Stirling—I mean, Maggie. Don’t ever say that.”
“It’s a mad world, Clementine—one that my son always had trouble wrapping his brain around. When he was thirteen he tried to kill himself. And then again at fourteen. Pills. He should have told you. I should have told you. He was so different when he met you. He was happy for a change. Looking back now, I think he hid his secret misery from us, but I can see now what he must have put you through.” Maggie’s eyes shifted to the mantle and the picture of Ashton. “It wasn’t fair to put that on you. You should have known what you were getting yourself into.”
“Maggie,” I said in a barely
audible tone.
“I know. I’m so sorry, child,” she offered. I didn’t want her apologies. I didn’t know what I wanted except to put all of this behind me. I didn’t understand how the past could stop all of our lives—none of us able to move forward.
“Please don’t say you’re sorry. I was the one who should have said something that night. I’m sorry,” I repeated. “Maybe your husband is right, and I should go to jail for this. I feel like I should be punished.”
“I can tell you’ve been punishing yourself for a very long time. I think you’ve put yourself through enough,” she stated, standing and reaching for me to join her.
I rose to my feet, still a little shaky. Wrapping her arms around me she pulled me into an embrace. When at last she released me, all I could think to say was, “Thank you.”
She walked me to the door, and after opening it, she peered out and looked down at Colin. She smiled and waved to him. Awkwardly, he waved back. Leaning in she whispered, “He’s very handsome.”
I blushed in response. “I don’t know how I can thank you, Maggie. I never thought you would be so understanding.”
“Clementine, I would give anything to have my Ashton back. I also would have given anything for him to be able to accept love. He was lost, and I was his mother and couldn’t bring him back from the edge. I believe Ashton loved us—I have to. And because of that, I have decided he wouldn’t want us to carry these scars. If my kindness lets you take them off your back, then I’m happy, because I think it’s what Ashton wanted to do for you, but couldn’t.”
My eyes swollen and cheeks wet, I threw my arms around her again. I squeezed as tightly as I could, wishing somehow I could make her scars fade a little.
“I know,” she replied as I released her. “Don’t be a stranger. I miss you.”
“Okay, I’ll call,” I replied, surprising even myself that I meant it.
Walking down the stairs I caught Colin’s eyes, his brows arched in anticipation, his hand outstretched toward me. Looking over my shoulder back at Maggie, and back at the life that had once trapped me, I sighed, waving goodbye. I just hoped one day Mr. Stirling could be as forgiving as his wife.
As my fingertips met Colin’s, my heart fluttered. A hope and relief I hadn’t ever felt consumed me. We neared the car, and he asked, “Well?”
“It went well,” I replied.
“I’m going to need more than that,” he pushed.
“I have somewhere else I want to go,” I said, ignoring his prompting.
“Where?” he asked, opening my door for me.
“You’ll see.” I smiled, wondering if it was possible to even do what Maggie said. Now that I had these scars, would I ever be able to have them removed?
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stared at the grass on the front lawn, a couple inches longer than it should be. There was a small plastic red toy car with a yellow roof turned over on its side near the bottom of the driveway. The garage door had been painted from taupe to a bright white, and the siding was replaced with a bright yellow color. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was done in an effort to mask the sadness the place contained.
“Are you going to tell me why we’re here, or are we just going to continue to play creepy stalker couple?” Colin asked.
“Not yet,” I answered. I wasn’t ready to explain to him what this place was. I wanted a future with him, and here we were, staring at the place that held so much of my past.
Frustrated, Colin flipped on the radio, thumbing through the stations until finally settling on one. I didn’t know why we were here, or why I wanted to see this place. I wanted to move on, I wanted to do what Maggie told me and let my scars fade, but it seemed impossible. I don’t think she was right about Ashton loving me. I think he killed himself because he wanted me to hurt. It seemed like a disservice to him if I were to let go of the pain.
“Oh me, oh my, oh, look at Miss Ohio,” Colin sang from the driver’s seat. I glanced over at him and smiled. “She’s a-running around with her rag-top down.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, laughing lightly.
“She says I wanna do right, but not right now,” he continued.
“Stop it, Colin,” I commanded. I didn’t want him to sing. I wanted to wallow in self-pity, and that was impossible with him singing.
Turning the volume down, he said, “No, I won’t stop singing unless you tell me what we’re doing here.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it,” I explained, looking away from him and back at the home.
“Well, I am, and I’m here, and I want to know what we’re doing,” Colin added in a more demanding tone.
Looking at him, contempt heavy in my stare, I growled back, “That’s too bad. We can’t always get what we want and you have to learn that.”
He reached over, gripping my leg in an effort to hold my attention. “Em, I’m here. I want to take this from you, which is why I came. I’m in love with you, damn it, let me be there for you.”
My heart ached to the point that I wondered if it might turn to ash within my chest. I couldn’t conceive how such beautiful words could hurt so much. “You can’t take it from me.”
He looked over my shoulder at the silent home. “Was that where it happened?”
I nodded, relieved he knew where we were, and I didn’t have to say the words. The car began to feel quite small, and I struggled to catch my breath. Colin did his best to calm me, although his efforts were useless. I leapt from the vehicle as if I were leaping from my own coffin. Colin exited, too, standing and staring at me from across the car. I turned and peered at the house.
“I swear, Em, if you leave me I’ll kill myself.” I remembered the way those words sounded that night. I could see now, the way he said it, he was trying to tell me he was looking for a way to be done. I wondered if he was asking for permission. “I’m not kidding, I’ll do it! I can’t live without you.” Was he right? Was that why he did it? If that was why he did it then maybe he really did love me… he needed me to keep going. It felt like my mind was spinning.
Turning on my heel I looked to Colin, who hadn’t taken his eyes from me. “Can we go to his grave?”
He nodded, sadness in his eyes. I was certain this must have felt like torture to him, but I couldn’t help myself. He wanted to be there, and I needed closure. He replied in a soft voice, “Whatever you need.”
The flowers on the grave were fresh, and I could see Maggie had taken great care in making sure they stayed that way. The image of the guitar on the tombstone made me smile. I hadn’t seen the grave since the day of his funeral, when there was no actual stone to look at. I never told his family, I let them assume I would visit. My mother placed flowers for me that first year. Seeing his tombstone with his name was more than I thought I could ever handle. But now, being here, I realized I was stronger than I thought.
“You loved him, didn’t you?” Colin asked. There was no jealousy in his voice, only sorrow. I worried it might hurt him to know the truth, but I was too tired to lie anymore.
“Yes. In a lot of ways, I guess I did,” I replied.
Colin put his arm around my shoulder. I felt like I should pull away—that somehow it was disrespectful to Ashton, but it felt so comforting, I couldn’t. “Sometimes love isn’t enough. It’s not your fault.”
“I’m so tired of people saying that. It is my fault. He needed me, and I basically told him to go screw himself.” I couldn’t help but be agitated. I wasn’t mad at Colin; I was angrier with Ashton and myself. It wasn’t fair he didn’t tell me about his attempts kill himself as a kid. I was his wife. I should have known that.
“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to lie? I don’t think it was your fault. I want to make this better, so why won’t you let me?”
“You can’t make this better, Colin! Stop trying! This will never be better, and if you’re not all right with that, then you might want to move on now!” I yelled, not taking my eyes from Ashton’s grave.
>
Colin pulled away. He was silent; I couldn’t even hear his breathing anymore. I heard the earth rustling as he turned and walked away. I glanced over my shoulder. I was nervous he might be leaving me at the gravesite, not that I would blame him. He didn’t. Instead, he stopped, leaning back against the car, arms crossed, head down.
Stepping closer, I got down onto my knees, the moist ground soaking through the denim. “Hi Ashton.” It was odd talking to him. I had done it alone, in my room, or lying on the couch at my mother’s, but to be here, knowing he was in the earth beneath me, it felt like he might be able to hear me.
“That’s Colin. I hope you’re not angry, but we’re dating. Well, we were, but I probably screwed that up, too. I think the curse of us is probably too much for any man.” I sat quietly for a second, a numbness coming over me. “Ashton, I don’t understand why.”
My voice began to shake, tears slipping from my eyes. “You had to know it would destroy me, your mother… God, your dad, he’s a mess, Ash. Did you hate us all that much?”
A breeze blew through the trees above as a chill overwhelmed me, causing my entire body to shiver. In that instant I had an overwhelming desire to curl up on Ashton’s grave, cover myself in dead leaves creating a blanket, and use the tombstone as a pillow. I would stay there, mourning him, for eternity.
A warm hand grazed my cheek just before it touched my shoulder. Looking up, for a split second, part of me expected to see Ashton. Colin looked down at me instead. He had snuck up on me—he was good at that. Taking his hand, I sighed and brushed my knees off as I stood. He didn’t speak, only wrapped his arms around me in the warmest embrace. We lingered until at last he released me, guiding me back to the car.
He didn’t open the door, he didn’t say a word, he only stood there, blocking my path and looking at me.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, looking away, trying to clean up my tear stained cheeks.
“I don’t know,” he replied, and I braced myself for what I assumed was the break up talk.
