“Should we go in?” she asked and I nodded. I felt her take my hand and then I felt Gabe’s hand on the small of my back as we walked towards the front door.
Rachel climbed the steps first and knocked, causing the door to rattle with a clanky metallic sound. A few moments later, I heard hurried footsteps coming and then the door swung open. My mom stood before us in a black dress that looked too big for her petite frame. Her hair was greasy and pulled back into a tight bun and her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying for days.
“Hi, Mom,” Rachel said softly. My mom seemed to smile, but it only lasted a second before she pushed the door open and ushered us in, the smell of Tim’s chain smoking still lingering in the air.
Before I could look around, she was hugging Rachel and I at the same time, holding us as tightly as she could. I could tell she was crying and when she finally pulled back, there were tears on her cheeks and she was sniffling.
“Thank you for coming. Thank you so much for coming. It would’ve meant a lot to Tim,” she said, blowing her nose with a tissue that looked like it was almost shreds now.
“We’re here for you, Mom,” Rachel said firmly. She didn’t come right out and add that we weren’t here for Tim, but my mom had to have known.
“And I’m grateful for that,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, which then drifted to Gabe. I could see the curiosity on her face as she studied him.
“Mom,” I began, “this is Gabe Torres. I hope it’s alright that he came. He offered to drive us.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, extending his hand. I’d made sure to fill him in on her surname, seeing as how she didn’t share the same last name as my sister or I.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Gabe,” she said and then looked at me. “Your boyfriend, I take it?”
“Um…” I said, not really knowing how to respond. Despite being practically inseparable, Gabe and I had yet to label our relationship and I didn’t want to start now without discussing it with him.
“Yes, Mrs. Wheeler, I’m Sam’s boyfriend.”
He turned his head so our eyes met. He had a smile on his face that I couldn’t help but match with my own. At least I knew where we stood officially, even though we’d both already known that.
“Well, thank you for coming, Gabe.”
My mom shook his hand again and I thought she liked him because she pulled him in for a hug a second later, Gabe nearly swallowing up my mother with this strong frame.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” my mom asked once she and Gabe had pulled away.
“I’m good,” I answered and I saw Rachel and Gabe declined as well as she led us further into the small trailer.
She gestured that we all should take a seat on the couch. I was sandwiched between Gabe and my sister as my mom sat on the old recliner Tim had always sat in. It’d been there for as long as I could remember and I was certain the seat had a permanent molding of his backside ingrained in it. He hardly ever left that chair except to get himself another beer or to beat somebody. I could feel the bitterness rising. I’d told myself I could come here and that I should come here, but now as I sat in the musty living room, I wasn’t so sure.
The trailer hadn’t changed much. It still had fake wood paneling on the walls and the same carpet that’d been there when I was a kid. The same pictures hung on the wall, but photos of Rachel and I were still absent. There’d never been a picture of us displayed in this house. I wasn’t sure my mom even had any of us.
The trailer was clean though. It always was. Tim had insisted on it. My mom didn’t work, so she spent her time tending to the house or to him. It’d been her life and as I looked at my mother now, I could see how lost she was.
“When do you want to head over to the funeral home?” Rachel asked. We’d planned our trip so we’d arrive shortly before the service to minimize how long we’d have to stay at the trailer before going.
“In just a few minutes probably. It’s not going to be a big service. You know how it was. Tim didn’t have a lot of friends,” she said, her voice cracking.
That was no surprise to me. Tim was a jerk to everyone he met. I knew in the past there were a few guys he’d play poker with sometimes or meet at the tavern down the street, but that was about it. Something told me those guys had many of the same traits as my dearly-departed stepfather.
“Do you want to ride with us?” Gabe asked and my mother smiled at him gratefully.
“That would be nice. Thank you,” she replied.
“Should we head over then?” I asked, wanting to get out of the trailer and the suffocating cigarette smell.
“Yes, we probably should,” my mom answered, standing up. We followed and after my mom gathered her things, we walked back out in the chilly air. I breathed in the fresh air, grateful to be out of that place. I’d take the smell of Worcester any day over that trailer.
~~~
I’d never been in a funeral home before. I guess that was a good thing because that meant I’d never known anybody that had died. It seemed oddly normal, not ghoulish in anyway as I’d imagined. There was a man in a suit greeting us and a guest book to sign. I quickly scrawled my name inside followed by my sister and then Gabe. My mom left with another worker shortly after we signed the book. They disappeared into another room and then Gabe, Rachel and I made our way into the small chapel.
My eyes immediately focused on the oak casket. The lid was up and I felt a pit in my stomach. I had no desire to see Tim’s face again. I looked over to Rachel and could tell she felt the same way.
There were a few people sitting in chairs. They were dressed in suits, but I could tell they were Tim’s drinking and poker buddies. I wanted to sit in the back, but we were here for my mother and sitting in the back wasn’t an option.
I followed my sister to the front row where we sat down, making sure to leave a place for our mom. The room was so quiet as we waited. I was afraid to say anything for fear it would draw attention to us. Instead, we sat silently. I felt Gabe’s arm drape around me. I liked the reminder that he was there.
I wasn’t sure if I’d been deliberately avoiding it, but my eyes focused on the casket as we sat in the silence. I could see Tim’s profile sticking out and his hands were folded on his stomach. I just stared for a few moments, a sick feeling brewing in my stomach. And then, for whatever reason, I felt myself stand up and walk slowly to the edge of the casket. I had no desire to see him and yet, here I stood.
I glanced down and then came face to face with Tim. It didn’t look like him. He looked almost like plastic. He was obviously the shell of what he used to be. I knew he was harmless. He couldn’t hurt anyone and yet, the fear was there. The fear had never left. I felt my lip trembling as I stared down at him as the pain he’d caused my family raced through my mind. And then a tear fell down my cheek as the hurt he’d caused me flooded my body. I hated him. I hated what he’d done and I was glad he was gone. I wiped at my eyes discreetly, not wanting anyone to see me and think I was crying for Tim. I wasn’t crying for him. I was crying for me.
I felt a hand on my back then and I turned to find Gabe beside me. Our eyes met, but he didn’t say anything. He simply kissed me on the temple before I turned and sat back down.
Twenty-Five
I could hardly stomach the funeral. Watching my mom mourn over a man like Tim was nauseating and listening to her talk from the podium about what a loving husband he’d been over the years. My mom had deluded herself into thinking Tim had loved her. He hadn’t loved her. He never had. My eyes had drifted to Rachel’s a couple of times and I could see the disgust in hers too. I doubted my mom would ever see it though. I don’t think she’d ever known what real love was.
We’d come back to the house after an awkward mingling with the few people at the service. Back to the cigarette smell and memories I wished I could forget. I wondered how long we would stay.
I knew I was the one who’d decided to com
e. I’d thought I should come for my mom, but it was apparent she’d never change.
“I hope you will stay for dinner,” my mom said once we were settled back in the house. “My neighbor brought me a casserole. I can’t eat it all. Tim could’ve eaten the whole thing by himself, but all this food will go to waste if you don’t help me.” Her voice cracked again, the way it always did when she talked about Tim.
I looked over at Rachel and she shrugged her shoulders. As much as I wanted to leave, it was only dinner. We could stay for it and then leave. That would be the polite thing to do. Then we could go and I’d feel we’d fulfilled our obligations.
“We can stay,” Rachel answered and our mom smiled.
“I’ll put it in the oven then,” she said, turning towards the small kitchen.
“Can you tell me where the restroom is?” Gabe asked after my mom was gone.
“Come on. I’ll show you,” I said and he followed me down the hallway.
Once he was inside, I headed back to the living room, but then I stopped when I came to the door of my old bedroom. It was closed and I found myself staring at it, wanting to go inside, but afraid to at the same time. My hand was on the doorknob before I could think about it for too long and pushed it open.
It didn’t look much different than when Rachel and I slept in it and I went and sat on the bed.
Rachel and I didn’t have a lot of toys growing up, but my eyes drifted to the corner where we’d kept our toybox, an old footlocker Tim had stuck in the room. I recalled playing in the room, making the best with what we had. Despite everything else, Rachel and I had managed to make our own memories, good memories, in this room. I felt myself smiling as I thought about the actual good times we’d shared together, but then my eyes found the closet and the smile disappeared. It was replaced with fear now as I imagined Rachel and I inside of that same closet, the door shut, huddled together, my big sister trying to calm me as our mother cried and Tim beat the crap out of her. I had shut it off for so long, but it felt like only yesterday as I stood here now. It was raw and I hated it, but then my eyes drifted back to the door and the sick feeling returned as I closed my eyes, remembering the darkness. Remembering that door pushing open. Remembering the smell of cigarettes and too much alcohol.
Don’t cry, I told myself. I’d done enough of that already. More tears meant he still mattered and he didn’t matter anymore.
“Sam?” Gabe’s soft voice was coming from the doorway. I looked up and saw him standing apprehensively in the doorway. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said dismissively.
“You sure?” he asked, stepping inside. Our eyes met and I didn’t say anything for a second until I opened my mouth and lied to him.
“I’m fine,” I told him, but his eyebrow raised in doubt and he stepped into the room.
“Forgive me for not believing you,” he said, sitting beside me on the bed.
“I’m that easy to read?” I asked softly, trying to laugh.
“I’m getting pretty good at it,” he said and then reached for my hand, holding it in his as he traced over the back of mine with his fingertips. “I knew today was going to be hard for you,” he said, almost in a whisper, which I was grateful for since the door was still open. “But I guess I didn’t realize just how hard it was going to be.”
“I guess I didn’t either,” I said softly, looking up and meeting his eyes. “Being here though…” I began, but then hesitated, afraid to say too much.
“You can talk to me, Sam,” he encouraged gently. I knew I could. He’d made that abundantly clear and I saw it now. I saw it in his eyes and I felt it in his touch.
“Being here has brought back so many memories,” I continued, my voice a whisper, just as his had been. “Being in this room has brought so much back.” He held my hand tighter then and my eyes drifted to the closet. “That’s the closet I used to hide in with Rachel. When she’d hug me and tell me she’d keep me safe while Tim beat my mom. I’d cover my ears, but I’d hear her cries. I didn’t know what to do. We were just little girls. I thought that’s how it was supposed to be. I didn’t know any better. I should’ve said something. I should’ve told someone.”
“You’re blaming yourself again. You just said it yourself, you were a little girl. So was Rachel. You couldn’t do anything. Forgive yourself even though you don’t need any forgiveness.”
I felt my eyes growing warm as I moved them from the closet and back to the door.
“I used to be so scared and sitting here now, that fear feels as fresh as it did all those years ago.” I choked up and paused for a moment while I tried collecting myself.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he whispered.
“Rachel always tried to protect me. That’s all she cared about. That I was okay, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t always protect me and she didn’t,” I whispered, the words starting to flow out of my mouth without a second thought now. A tear fell down my cheek and I batted at it quickly. “I hated him. I hated Tim,” I choked out. “What he did…” I couldn’t finish though because I heard footsteps down the hall and then Rachel stuck her head inside the room.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said and when our eyes met, I knew she could tell she’d interrupted a serious talk. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like this.”
“It’s okay,” I said, standing up quickly, grateful for the interruption. If Rachel hadn’t come in, I would’ve kept talking and I wasn’t sure that was something I was ready for. “Let’s go eat.”
I didn’t wait for Gabe or Rachel to say anything else. I simply walked out of the room and made my way to the kitchen where my mom had set the casserole on the table. I sat down in the same spot I used to as a kid and a moment later, Rachel followed, assuming her old seat as well. Gabe stood beside the table. I could tell he was unsure where to sit. There were only two chairs left and he knew one had belonged to Tim. He looked to my mother for guidance.
“Go ahead and take a seat right there,” she said, pointing to the seat she generally sat in. She then sat in Tim’s old seat.
We quietly began dishing out the tuna casserole. I wasn’t hungry, but I picked at my dinner, taking a few bites to try and blend in.
The silence was starting to become uncomfortable as the only sounds to fill the room were the sounds of our forks hitting the plates and my mother chewing too loudly. I was glad when Rachel finally said something.
“So, Mom,” she said, looking up from her plate and over to our mother. “Do you know what you’re doing to do now? Are you going to stay here?”
My mom had been bringing a bite to her mouth, but then stopped half-way.
“Of course I’m staying here,” she replied curtly. “This is my home. Why would I leave?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe with Tim gone now you wouldn’t want to stay here. Maybe you’d want a change.” I knew Rachel was insinuating that perhaps our mother would finally want to get away from the monster who’d done nothing but make our lives a living hell.
“I don’t want a change, Rachel. I can’t even believe you’re bringing this up right now.” My mom’s fork fell forcefully back onto her plate. “Tim’s only been gone a few days and you’re already trying to make me forget him. You’ve never liked him. Never.” Her words were bitter and forceful as she stared at my sister.
“Let’s not do this, Mom,” Rachel warned.
“Do what? Address the fact that you and Sam never even gave Tim a chance? From the moment he came into my life you two did nothing but cause trouble with him. You’d make him angry on purpose just to spite me.”
“We did not,” Rachel interrupted.
“You did. He was good to us. He kept a roof over our head and food in our bellies.” Her voice was louder now and it cracked as it got higher.
“He beat you, Mom. He beat us,” Rachel said bluntly and you could’ve heard a pin drop at her words. I looked at my mom then. She looked angry. Not just angry. Furious.
&
nbsp; “Are you trying to air our dirty laundry in front of a stranger, Rachel?”
Rachel’s gaze whipped over to Gabe. I could see he was uncomfortable and I felt horrible that he was witnessing this.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Rachel began. “That’s not my intention, but you’re sitting here as if none of that ever happened, as if he’s Ward Cleaver. I just want you to be okay. That’s all I want.”
“Bullshit, Rachel,” she snapped. “You are unbelievable. You think you’re so much better than me with your fancy nursing degree as if you’re a damn saint. You left this house when you turned eighteen and you never looked back. You took Samantha too and you never came back!”
“Why would we want to come back? Why? After everything he did to you. What he did to us!” Rachel returned, her voice rising now.
“You think you know everything. You think you know what it’s like to be me. To try and take care of two ungrateful children. You know nothing. Your father went and died on me and Sam’s father took off when we became too much of an inconvenience! I was alone. I had nothing until Tim took us in! But, you don’t see that. You don’t choose to remember those things. All you remember are the few times he lost his temper a bit.”
“A few times?” Rachel gasped. “It was every damn night practically! You don’t remember that. You don’t remember the way Sam and I sat in that closet, praying for him to stop. Praying he wouldn’t put his hands on us! How can you forget all that?”
I immediately felt shame at the way I sat there letting Rachel fight this battle. I didn’t know what to say though. We’d never spoken this openly about it. Perhaps my sister and my mother had, but I hadn’t been involved in the conversation and to hear the justification in my mother’s voice made me ill.
“Why don’t you just go? Get the hell outta here and stay gone!” my mother suddenly shouted. “If all you’re going to do is bash me and my husband, then you’re not welcome here!”
Rachel and I stared at each other for a few seconds, our mouths agape and our eyes wide.
Because of You Page 21
