When I get to the top of the steps, I stop. Jamie’s bedroom door is open. We always keep her door closed. It’s just too painful to go in there. I walk slowly towards her bedroom. I hear the faint sound coming from Jamie’s small ballerina music box. When I get to Jamie’s bedroom, I can see Leah. She is standing near Jamie’s white dresser, holding the little ballerina music box we got her for her third birthday. The music box is playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as Leah hums softly to the music.
I don’t say anything. I just stand there and watch Leah. She walks around the room slowly, lightly touching Jamie’s things. “I loved her so much,” Leah says softly.
I didn’t even know that she knew I was here. I say, “She knew that.” I step further into the room.
“Do you think she knows how much we miss her?” Leah asks, but she still hasn’t looked up at me. I watch her as she sits gingerly on Jamie’s bed.
“I believe she’s an angel and watches over us every day,” I answer honestly. “I think she sees our pain.”
“Robert, I don’t know how to move on without her.”
I don’t either. I walk into Jamie’s bedroom and sit next to Leah on the bed. “One day at a time.”
She nods and I take her small hand in mine. “I hope we have another girl,” Leah says with a sad smile. Her lashes are moist from tears, and her eyes are red and swollen from crying. Her hair is messy, and she is still in her pajamas from Friday.
“Me, too.” I hear Leah’s belly growl and I say, “I think she’s hungry.”
Leah puts her hand softly on her stomach. “I need a shower first.”
I stand, still holding her hand. “Come on, Sweets. You shower and I’ll make us some lunch.”
While Leah is in the shower, I call her mom and tell her she’s up. Sue tells me she and Tim will stop by and get some “comfort food” and lunch for everyone. I have no idea what “comfort food” is. I change the sheets on the bed and make it while Leah showers. She walks out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of lounge pants and a tank top. She looks better and I know she feels better. I smile when I see her.
I ask, “Are you hungry?” Please say yes.
“I am. I’m sorry, I should have taken better care of myself for the baby.”
“I think it’ll be all right. You maintained your fluid intake the last couple of days. Your mom and dad are bringing lunch.”
“You called them?”
“I actually called them while you were in bed. I was worried about you,” I admit.
“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” she asks as she sits beside me on the bed.
I turn my body to face hers. “A mess? No. Saddened by the death of our daughter? Yes.”
“How do you do it? You always seem to keep it together.”
Are you kidding me? “You think I keep it together? No, Leah, I don’t. I left you after Jamie’s death, I turned to drugs, and I almost died. I beat the shit out of a punching bag five or six days a week to keep from falling apart.”
“I thought you did that to stay fit.”
“I do that mostly to keep my head clear. I find it to be very therapeutic for me. Then, of course, I have to do it for my career in boxing.”
She asks, “Do you think it’ll help me with my depression?”
“You want to start working out with me?”
“If it’ll help me, yes.”
“Let’s get it cleared with your doctor first, then we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you.”
Tim and Sue come over and bring enough food to feed a family of 12. Sue explains that she brought Leah some chicken noodle soup and carrot cake, along with other things. It’s comfort foods that Leah’s grandmother used to make Leah when she was sick. Eating it pretty much automatically makes her feel better. Leah finally eats and speaks openly about her dream and about her depression. She had never suffered from depression until Jamie’s death. I know at one time she needed anti-depressants to help her, but I thought those days were behind us.
“Do you think you need medications again, Leah?” Sue asks.
“I hope not. I think it’s too soon to tell. I feel better today, although I’m still sad.”
“That’s understandable. We miss Jamie terribly,” Tim says.
“I know you do. I have a doctor’s appointment this week. If he says it’s all right, I’m going to start working out with Robert. I don’t want to have to rely on medications to make me feel better if there is another alternative.”
“Leah, that’s a good idea. But remember, if you need the medications, there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes people just need a boost to feel better.”
“I know, Dad. Thank you. I’m not opposed to the meds, but I think I want to try something else if I can. I just wish it were easier.”
We have lunch and Tim asks me where the Hummer is.
“We left it at Leah’s shop Friday night.”
Tim says, “We drove by there on our way here and we didn’t see it. The lot was empty.”
“Robert, you should drive over there,” Leah says, looking concerned.
“I don’t want to leave you. I can go over tomorrow when you go to work.”
“You and Dad should go now. If it’s stolen, you’ll want to get a police report filed right away.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“Mom will be here with me. I’m already feeling better.”
“Robert, she’s right. You need to get over there. I’ll be here with her.”
Tim and I ride over to Leah’s shop and sure enough my Hummer’s gone. I call the police to report it stolen. They ask if I have a picture of it and sure enough I do. I have lots of pictures of it on my cell phone. I try and not be too upset. It’s just a vehicle and it can be replaced. But I can’t lie, I love it.
Later that night, Leah and I lie in bed. She reads the book that Brooke wrote and I read a boxing magazine. She giggles out loud when she reads a funny part. I look over at her and smile. “Reading something funny?”
“Brooke is pretty funny. I forgot how much I love romantic comedies.”
I lean over and kiss her. “Heading to the kitchen, do you want anything?”
“Are you getting bonbons?” she says, laughing.
Leah has jokes. “You think you’re funny?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Me, too.”
The next morning before we leave to go to Leah’s work. I notice Jamie’s door is open. Expecting to see Leah in there, I am surprised to see it’s empty. I think this is a huge step in our healing process. The door has been shut since Jamie’s death and it feels unusual having her door open. The sun is shining through Jamie’s bedroom window, brightening the usually dim hallway.
When we pull up at Leah’s shop, she says, “Look, is that your Hummer?”
I smile when I see it. It looks like it has just been washed. “It sure is.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t here yesterday?” I look over at her and she says, “Sorry, just asking. Why would someone take it, wash it, and bring it back?” I ask.
“I have no idea, but look, there’s a note on it.”
I park the Tahoe beside my Hummer and get out to retrieve the note from beneath the windshield wiper. Leah stands there, looking around the parking lot. “They aren’t here, Sweets. Whoever took it is long gone.”
I read the note out loud to Leah.
Bobby, I stole your Hummer and didn’t realize it was yours until I looked at the registration. I am a huge fan and never would have stolen it if I had known it belonged to you. I detailed it for you and again, I am sorry. Your biggest fan.
“Are you serious?” Leah takes the note out of my hand and reads it again. She looks up at me and laughs. “Someone steals your car and because they’re a fan of yours they decide to have it detailed and bring it back looking better than when they took it?”
I open the door and look inside. It looks great, j
ust like it was professionally done. I close the door and Leah is watching me. “What?”
“Ace, this would happen only to you¸” she says, walking away from the car.
“It’s because we have an angel looking out for us.”
Leah
Robert reminds me that we have an angel watching over us. I believe Jamie is our guardian angel. I smile to myself and am thankful that I am feeling better.
Robert says, “I need to call the police and tell them to cancel that stolen vehicle report.”
“Are you wanting to press charges if they find whoever took it?”
“No, I don’t see the need. They didn’t take anything and they did bring it back cleaner than it was when they stole it.”
“Good, I’m going in to help Jo. I’ll see you in a minute.”
Robert hangs out at the shop with me for the biggest part of the morning. I don’t complain. I like having him here with me, sometimes, and I know he wants to make sure my depression doesn’t return. I’ll always be sad over losing Jamie, but depression is a whole new level of sadness. It buries itself deep inside your soul, then spreads through your veins until you are consumed every minute of every day with sorrow that is so dark, you don’t care if you live or die.
“Miss Leah, would you read us a story today?” I look down from the counter and a little girl, about Jamie’s age, is standing there holding a book.
“C’mon, Princess, I’ll read to you.” Robert stands up and walks around the counter. He takes the book from the little girl and she follows him to the children’s reading area. Six little kids are sitting at the round child’s size table. I watch as Robert pulls out a small wooden chair from the table and sits on it carefully. I know he is testing the strength of the chair. He smiles and holds the books up and says, “The Princess Mermaid and the Missing Sea Shells, written by Michael J. DiPinto.” I smile as I watch the kids give Robert their undivided attention. Robert probably thinks that is because the kids are too little to know how to divide — that’s a dad joke and Robert is going to be a dad again. He opens the book and begins reading it to the children. I watch him because I can’t look away. He is such a good man, and he was such a good father.
“How far along are you?” Bethany asks.
I look at her and smile. “Almost three months. I was going to tell you.”
“I understand you wanting to wait, but it’s getting a little hard to hide it.” She nods at my baby bump.
I gently place my hand on my belly.
“I’m happy for you both. I know it’s early, but I wanted to get you something for your bundle of joy.”
I watch as Bethany pulls out a basket from beneath the counter.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” she says, handing me the basket.
I peek inside and lift up a blue and a pink sleeper. There is also a blue and pink pacifier, a couple of children’s books, a teacup with a variety of teas, and a copy of the magazine Pregnant.
“Thank you so much,” I say, hugging her. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
“Yes, I should have and it’s nothing.”
I look back up at Robert and he has now drawn in an even larger crowd. Not just the children, but their mothers are all near the kids’ reading area listening to the badass, macho-man, alpha-male who is reading out loud a children’s story.
“Do you think guys know how hot that is?” Bethany asks.
I look at her and ask, “What?”
“Men reading, not just reading but reading to kids. That’s hot.”
I smile at Robert reading in the distance and say to Bethany, “If they knew it, all men would be readers.”
“Kyle’s a reader and I love it. Of course, we don’t read the same types of books, but it’s still sexy.”
After lunch and zero cinnamon buns later, Robert leaves for his run and workout. I anticipate he’ll work out extra hard today because of his upcoming fight. Bethany and I work well together; she makes me laugh. She has no idea of my meltdown over the weekend, and she doesn’t treat me any differently than she did on Friday. Robert and my parents, on the other hand, treat me as if I’m a fragile porcelain Humpty-Dumpty sitting on the ledge of a top-shelf about to topple over and break. During our downtime, we look at wedding dresses and wedding themes online. Some of the wedding themes are pretty but some are pretty extreme, such as Star Wars, Breaking Bad, and Walking Dead weddings.
Bethany has something funny to say about all of them. For example:
• “Roses are red, violets are blue. If you are a Star Wars fan, may the Force be with you.”
• Doorbell rings. “Who is it?” “Pizza Deliveryman.” “Where is it and how much do I owe you?” “It’s on the house.” (Only Breaking Bad fans will understand.)
• “Did you have a favorite subject in school, Jesse Pinkman?” “Yeah. Science, bitch.” (Only Breaking Bad fans will understand.)
• “Who would have a zombie wedding? Someone who wants to marry his GHOUL friend.”
I love her sense of humor and her quick wit. Spending the day with her makes me forget about my sadness that’s lurking just beneath the surface waiting to spring into action. I know it’s there and I will it to settle to the bottom of my soul and die.
Robert picks me up and waits for me to finish my work. He runs the sweeper while I do the deposit. Once everything is done, I suggest leaving my car here at the shop overnight.
“Why would you do that?” he asks. “I just got my car back.”
“Because my car needs to be detailed, too.”
“Jealous my car looks better than yours?”
“Yeah, a little,” I giggle.
“I’ll do your car tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
I follow behind Robert in my own car. I walk in the house and it smells delicious. “You made dinner?” I ask, inhaling the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.
“I did. I ran, and then I came home to work out. I made a meatloaf and tossed it in the oven. Actually, I really did slave away in the kitchen all afternoon, now that I think about it.”
He’s joking, and it makes me smile.
“Mixed a meatloaf for 15 minutes and tossed it in the oven to cook by itself. You really did slave away today.”
“Thank you for appreciating all of my hard work.”
“Oh, I do.” I smile and walk over to the stove to check on the meatloaf.
Robert and I have dinner together and we talk about my breakdown over the weekend. He had never been around when I had one. I was hoping to dodge the entire topic, but I should have known he would want to talk about it.
“What sets those off?” he asks. He means my depressed moments.
“I had a dream of the accident. It was more like a vivid memory in slow motion,” I admit.
“The first time was after the accident?”
“When I woke up from my coma and learned of Jamie’s death and you leaving. That’s what put me into my first depressed state.”
“If I could change that, I hope you know that I would.”
“I know that and I don’t blame you. We all deal with stress and death differently. Neither one of us was in our right mind after the accident.”
“I should have stayed. I should have handled things…”
“Differently?” I interrupt. “It wouldn’t have mattered. The outcome would have still been the same. Jamie died, and I became depressed. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or not.”
“I don’t believe that, and I’m sorry. I wish I had manned up and dealt with it. Instead, I ran and left you to deal with everything alone.”
His eyes are sad; I hate seeing him like that. Robert was always the strong one in our family. For him to have left like he did and turn to drugs… he was in better shape than I was.
I say, “Maybe we could have helped each other. I don’t know. I do know that it’s the past and we can’t change it.”
Chapte
r Five: Preparing to Fight
Robert
Leah’s last words were final. We can’t change it, so why discuss it. Because I have guilt and I’m sorry for making all the wrong decisions and making a bad situation worse. Of course, I don’t say that. But damn if those thoughts don’t haunt me daily.
“Thank you for reading to the kids today for story time,” she says, changing the subject.
“You’re welcome. It was nice reading to them. It made me realize how much I miss reading to Jamie.”
“Me, too. Maybe we can start reading to this baby now. I hear it’s supposed to be good for the baby to be read to and talked to in utero.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. We’ll start story time tonight, then.”
After the kitchen gets cleaned up, I find Leah in Jamie’s bedroom. My heart still skips a beat when I see Jamie’s bedroom door opened. It’s been closed for so long. I stand at the doorway and watch Leah searching the bottom shelves of the bookcase.
“Looking for a book?” I ask.
“Actually, I’m looking for the Bedtime Story Book.”
I walk in and remove it from the nightstand. “This one?”
She looks up from the floor and smiles. “Yep, that’s it.” I watch Leah stand up from the floor and walk over to me. She wipes her hand across the dusty book and removes a layer of dust.
“It’s been awhile since we read from this,” I say.
“It has.”
We both leave the room and I go to close the door behind me.
“Leave it open,” she says.
Leah takes a bubble bath, and I lie on the bed, looking through Jamie’s story book. The first page has pink crayon marks where she colored in it. I remember she was lying on the floor scribbling in it.
“What are you doing?”
“Coloring,” she said, holding the crayon tightly.
“That’s not a coloring book,” I told her. She looked me at me like I just spoke to her in a foreign language. I sat on the floor next to her and showed her the difference. “A coloring book. See the pages to color in.” I point to the pony on the page. “A storybook.” I point to the words and pretty colored pictures.
A Life Worth Fighting Page 10
