The Weight of Small Things

by Wood Emmons, Sherri

  She let that sink in a minute.

  “Of course, I’ll tell her my beliefs, too,” he said. “I mean, I’m not going to beat her over the head with agnosticism, but I do want her to know both sides.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “So here’s a question for you,” he said. “Why the Catholic church? Why not a church that lets women be leaders?”

  “Well, at first I joined because that’s what Mark wanted. It didn’t really matter too much to me either way; it just made things easier with his family. But I like it. I’ve really come to love it, actually.

  “I love the ritual and the ceremony. It’s special, kind of sacred. I don’t agree with everything the church says, of course. But I feel at home there. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess so,” he said. “I mean, it’s not for me. But whatever works for you is okay.”

  “Have you told your mom about the baby?” Corrie asked.

  “Yeah. She’s pretty excited.” He smiled at her. “She wants to come visit after the baby is born. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I always liked your mom. She’s great.”

  “She liked you, too. I think she’s really hoping we’ll get back together now.”

  Corrie just smiled and shook her head.

  “Why not?” he continued. “Why are you so dead set against us being together?”

  She leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her chin.

  “I just don’t see it,” she said softly. “You live in California. I live here. Neither of us wants to move.”

  “But,” he began.

  “And,” she plowed ahead, “I don’t think getting married just because you’re having a baby is a good idea. We both know that doesn’t work. Marriage is hard enough, but when you’re only getting married because you’re pregnant, you’re doomed from the start.”

  “If you’ll remember, I wanted you to come to L.A. a long time before I knew you were pregnant.”

  “It’s no good, Daniel.” She took his hands and looked directly into his face. “You are wonderful, and if you want to be in the baby’s life, then I’m happy about that. But this, you and me . . . it’s not going to happen.”

  “But why?”

  “Because every time I look at you I see the end of my marriage. I see my mistakes and my stupid, selfish behavior, and I see the hurt on Mark’s face when I told him I was pregnant and the baby wasn’t his. Every time I look at you I see loss.”

  He sat quietly for a minute. Then he squeezed her hands.

  “Maybe that will change,” he said. “Maybe once the baby is born, you’ll look at her and see that she is not a mistake, that we are not a mistake. Maybe then you’ll be able to look at me and see a man who loves you and wants you and would do anything for you.”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t think so.”

  He stood then and began pacing around the table.

  “Maybe you can’t think so because you don’t want to. You’re punishing yourself because you hurt Mark. I get that. But you can’t do that forever, Corrie. We made love, you feel guilty. I get that. But we also made a baby. You can’t take that guilt out on her, or on me.”

  Corrie let a tear slide unchecked down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Daniel sat down beside her and took her hands again.

  “Just let it be for a while,” he said. “Don’t rule it out. Don’t just rule it out, okay? Wait and see how you feel after the baby is born.”

  She smiled at him, her cheeks reddening.

  “You really are wonderful,” she said finally. “I didn’t see before how much you’ve changed, how much you’ve grown up.”

  “Yeah, you can nominate me for sainthood anytime.”

  She laughed then, rose, and began gathering dishes.

  “Let me help.” Daniel took the dishes from her and kissed her forehead. “Just let me help you a little bit.”

  “I’ll try.”

  That evening, they sat in Bob’s living room, watching Cody and Micah build with Legos. Bryn curled on the couch next to Bob. Daniel sat on the floor, making suggestions on building design. Corrie watched them from the rocking chair, marveling at how normal, how domestic it felt to be here with these people, her surrogate family.

  She smiled at Daniel, intently sorting colorful tiny blocks. He looked completely at home with the boys.

  Who could have known just six months ago that we’d be here like this? Bryn and me both pregnant. Bryn and Bob dating. Daniel here at all. Who could possibly have known?

  She shook her head and sipped her tea, allowing herself to simply enjoy the evening.

  The phone in her purse trilled impatiently. She looked at the caller ID and sighed, then answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Coriander, it’s Mom.” Patrice’s voice carried into the room.

  Bryn sat up and shook her head. “Hang up!” she hissed.

  “You need to come,” Patrice said. “It’s Maya. She’s been in an accident.”

  “What kind of accident?” Corrie rose. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s in the hospital, in San Francisco. She got run off the road by a drunk driver.” Patrice’s voice shook. “It’s bad, Coriander.”

  “Are you at home?”

  “Yes, but I have to get out there to be with her.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  54

  Daniel drove fast, Corrie clinging to the armrest of the rental car. He skidded to a stop in the driveway.

  “Thank you,” Corrie said. She opened the car door.

  “I’m coming in with you.” Daniel got out of the car and walked around to take her arm.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. My mom is pretty mad at you, and you . . . you don’t know how mean she can be.”

  He didn’t argue, just walked with her to the front porch. Her hands were shaking so she couldn’t get the key into the lock. Daniel took the key from her and unlocked the door, then held it open for her.

  “Mom?” Corrie scanned the living room, filthy with magazines and unopened mail and fast food containers.

  “Oh Coriander!” Patrice ran from the kitchen, her housecoat flapping open, a tumbler in her hand. She grabbed Corrie and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “We have to go to San Francisco. Right now! We need to go to the airport. Caerl can drive us.”

  Corrie pulled back to see her younger brother standing in the doorway, clearly high.

  “I don’t think Caerl is going to drive anywhere,” she said. “Daniel can drive us.”

  Patrice looked up and saw Daniel standing at Corrie’s back. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared, her cheeks reddened.

  “That man is not driving us anywhere!” she shrieked. The tumbler she’d been clutching fell to the ground and shattered.

  “You bastard!” she screamed, lunging toward Daniel. “You ruined everything!”

  “Mom!” Corrie grabbed Patrice by the arm. “Stop it!”

  Caerl smirked at them.

  “So, Daniel, long time no see, man.”

  “Caerl.” Daniel nodded at him, never taking his eyes from Patrice.

  “So, I hear you’re gonna be Corrie’s baby daddy.”

  “Shut up, Caerl!” Corrie spun to face him.

  “Perfect little Corrie, the perpetual, eternal good girl.” He laughed at her. “No better than the rest of us now, huh? Quite the little slut, my sister.”

  Corrie didn’t see Daniel move, didn’t see him draw back his arm and swing. She only saw her brother fall to the floor.

  “You bastard!” Patrice screamed again, pulling away from Corrie’s grasp. “You selfish bastard! Look what you’ve done!”

  She dropped onto the floor beside Caerl. “Are you okay?” she crooned. Blood spurted from Caerl’s nose.

  Corrie stood frozen for an instant, then took Daniel’s hand.

  “What hospital is she in?” she dema
nded.

  Patrice looked up in confusion.

  “Maya!” Corrie yelled. “Maya, your daughter—what hospital is she in?”

  Patrice simply gazed at her for a moment, then whispered, “San Francisco General.”

  “Come on!” Corrie pulled Daniel toward the door.

  “Coriander Bliss!” Patrice yelled. “Wait!”

  But Corrie didn’t stop. She ran to the car and slammed the door behind her. Daniel got in the driver’s side.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  They drove in silence for a minute, then Corrie said, “Where are we going? The airport’s north!”

  “We need to stop and get my stuff,” he answered calmly. “Then we’ll stop at your place and pick up what you’ll need. It will only take a few minutes,” he said, grasping her hand. “Trust me, you don’t want to go to San Francisco without a toothbrush and a change of clothes.”

  She leaned back in the seat and let him drive, first to Bob’s, where he threw his things in a bag and she promised Bryn she’d call when they got to California. Then they drove to her house, where Daniel packed a bag for her while she sat on her bed, numbly watching. Finally, they were on the road north, to Indianapolis, to the airport.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for a flight,” she said suddenly. “Mark canceled our credit cards.”

  “I’ve got it,” Daniel said. “Don’t worry. Just let me take care of it, okay? My credit is damned near perfect and my Visa is almost empty.”

  He took the rental car back to the agency and they hopped a shuttle to the terminal. Then Daniel made her sit with her feet up on a suitcase while he stood in line to buy tickets.

  “How much were they?” she asked when he returned.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Daniel, how much did they cost?” She stood and grabbed his hand. “They had to be expensive, right?”

  “Corrie.” His voice was soft and firm. “We have a flight in two hours to San Francisco. We need to go to gate number four. I’ve got it.”

  “But . . .”

  “You said you’d let me help, right?” he reminded her. “So let me help.”

  Two hours later they were taxiing down the runway. Corrie clutched his hand, feeling sick.

  “I hate flying,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  “I know.” He patted her hand as they gathered speed. “But we need to get to Maya.”

  Corrie leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes tightly. She never let go of Daniel’s hand.

  Four hours later, they stumbled into the madhouse of San Francisco International Airport. It was nine o’clock local time, midnight back home. Corrie stared at the crowds passing by in confusion, blinking at the bright lights. Daniel took her hand and guided her toward baggage claim. She followed him, grateful she wasn’t doing this alone . . . or worse, with Patrice.

  They rented a car and Daniel pulled away from the agency.

  “Here,” he said, shoving a map at Corrie. “I’ve been here before, but it will help if you keep track of where we are.”

  He pulled into the whirlwind of cars and trucks and buses, staring intently at the road ahead.

  “Daniel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.” Corrie touched his arm softly. “Seriously, I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

  He grinned at her. “It’s all good, Corrie-Andy. Just keep your eye on the map and tell me when I’m supposed to exit.”

  Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the parking garage at the hospital. Corrie’s legs shook beneath her so much that she thought she might fall. Daniel put his arm around her waist and guided her into the lobby.

  “Can I help you?” An older Asian woman smiled at them.

  “Maya Matthews,” Corrie blurted out. “We’re looking for my sister, Maya Matthews. She was in a car accident.”

  They waited a long minute while the woman checked her computer monitor.

  “She’s in ICU room 1442.” The woman pointed toward a bank of elevators and gave instructions, which Corrie didn’t follow or understand.

  “I’m sorry,” she started. But Daniel simply pulled her along.

  They boarded a crowded elevator, Daniel’s arm still protectively around her. Then he guided her off the elevator and through a maze of hallways, each of which looked exactly the same, until they stood before sliding doors bearing the frightening letters ICU.

  “Come on,” Daniel whispered, pulling her forward. “Almost there.”

  They stopped at the nurses’ station and Daniel asked for Maya’s room. Then they entered the darkened room, where Corrie’s sister lay unconscious, her head swathed in bandages, her eyes swollen and blackened, her left leg raised in a rigid cast.

  “Oh God!” Corrie sank down beside the bed and took her sister’s hand. “Oh Maya! Oh my God!”

  “It looks worse than it is,” a nurse said softly. “Her leg is fractured and she’s got some broken ribs. And she hit her head pretty hard.”

  Corrie leaned over the bed and cried. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “But she’s going to be okay,” the nurse continued, patting Corrie’s back. “She’s got a concussion, but the doctor says there’s no internal bleeding. She’ll take a while to mend, but she’s going to be all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Corrie raised her head to stare at Daniel, so calm, smiling at the nurse.

  “Yes, thank you!” she whispered, to the nurse and to Daniel.

  The nurse left them. Corrie held Maya’s hand and let the tears stream unchecked down her face.

  “I can’t believe she’s all grown up.” Daniel sat down in a chair on the other side of the bed. “Last time I saw her, she was only sixteen, just a kid.”

  “She’s a research biologist,” Corrie said, gazing down at her sister, touching her cheek. “She’s almost got her Ph.D. and everything.”

  “So both of you came out okay.” Daniel smiled at her across Maya’s still form. “She’s okay because of you, you know.”

  Corrie shook her head, never taking her eyes from Maya’s face.

  “It’s true, Corrie. You are the one who raised her. You made sure she had what she needed. You pushed her to do well in school.”

  “She’s so smart,” Corrie said. “She’s always been so smart. And she’s so much nicer than me.”

  She lowered her head to the bed and cried hard.

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Daniel said.

  “It’s true.” Corrie sat up and looked at him. “She’s always been nicer than me.”

  Daniel just smiled and shook his head.

  “It’s true, and I’ll tell you why.”

  Corrie held Maya’s hand tightly, her eyes fixed on her sister’s still face.

  “When she was seven and ready to start second grade, I took her to buy some clothes for school. I had that paper route, you know? I’d been saving. So I took her to Goodwill. God, Daniel, she was so excited! You can’t believe how excited she was. She was so little when my dad died. She’d never been to a store to choose her own clothes. Mostly we just had whatever the church donated.

  “So, I took her to Goodwill and I let her choose some things—not much, I only had four dollars. But she chose a couple pairs of pants and some tops and the cutest dress. It was black with red cherries all over it. She loved it.

  “And the whole time we were there, this old woman kept following us. She looked like she was homeless, and she smelled. Oh my God, Daniel, she smelled so bad. I thought she might be dangerous, but Maya just smiled at her and showed her what she was buying and talked to her. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  Corrie gazed down at her sister’s face, touched her cheek gently.

  “So we got to the cashier, and she started ringing things up, and I was seventy-four cents short.”

  She paused, swallowed hard.

  “Corrie, you were just a kid,” Daniel said softly.


  She stared at him a long minute, then stared back down at the bed.

  “I felt so bad,” she said. “And I was so mad! I thought I’d counted it up just right. But I guess I didn’t. So I told Maya we’d have to put something back. And this cashier!” She spit the word out, her cheeks reddening at the memory. “She just kept smacking her gum and staring at me, like she was enjoying it, how bad it was.”

  Daniel stood and walked around the bed. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You were a kid,” he repeated.

  “Maya’s eyes got so big, and I could see she wanted to cry. But she didn’t, Daniel. She didn’t cry! She just pulled the dress out of the pile and said she didn’t want that dress so much, anyway.”

  Daniel stood, massaging her shoulder for a long minute.

  “Okay,” she said finally, looking up at him, “and here’s the magic part. That old woman—the one who smelled, the one I thought was probably crazy—she was in line right behind us. And she only had a couple things, I don’t even remember what. But she put her hand on my arm and smiled at me. And she held out a dollar.”

  Corrie leaned her head against Maya’s shoulder again, crying.

  “She probably didn’t have enough to eat that night, but she was giving us a dollar, so Maya could have that dress.”

  “People are good,” Daniel said. “People who have been through hard times, sometimes they’re the best.”

  Corrie stroked her sister’s cheek.

  “I thought she was crazy, but Maya saw her, I mean really saw her. And she wasn’t crazy. Or maybe she was, I don’t know. But she wanted Maya to have that dress.”

  “Did you take the dollar?”

  Corrie nodded. “I couldn’t stand to make her leave that dress.”

  “So that day, you helped Maya and you helped that old woman.”

  Corrie raised her head and stared at him. “I didn’t help anyone,” she said.

  Daniel sank to his knees beside her. “Corrie-Andy, why are you always so hard on yourself? You were a kid. How old were you? Twelve? Thirteen? You took a freaking paper route to help support your family. You saved money to get Maya clothes for school. Honey, you taught Maya how to be in the world. What would Maya have been without you? What if you hadn’t been there, and Maya and Caerl only had Patrice?”