“Where’s the ring?” said a plump lady with frizzy red hair, snatching up my fingers.
My faced burned. “Not yet.”
Marrying at seventeen didn’t seem to bother the locals.
“All in good time,” Tyler said to her, rubbing my shoulders. After the third person asked, he took my hand in his and mumbled, “Sorry.”
I smiled up at him. For once, I wasn’t embarrassed by the attention.
A few minutes later, Ruby made her way through the line, giving out big hugs. I sensed her rushing the formalities, and then she skipped past me and went straight to Tyler.
“You, young man, are something else.” She lightly patted his face. “That was the most beautiful eulogy ever. You take care of her, you hear?”
“Of course.”
She eyed him. “We’ll be watching. Don’t you worry.” She started to walk away, and then she turned around. “By the way, you kicked that Bobby’s ass right out of town.” She winked. “You done good, son.”
Tyler’s face reddened at the compliment.
Within minutes of everyone exiting, we headed outside to go to the cemetery. The paper mill stench filled the air. Sprinkles bounced off the pavement as I darted to Tyler’s car and slid into the warm leather seat. We had ten minutes alone. Ten whole minutes. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, anxious to have him all to myself.
He climbed in and shut the door. “You okay?”
“Better now that you’re here.”
“Those eyes... I have missed you so much.”
Leaning toward me, he slid his hand over my cheek and kissed me. The world disappeared as we reconnected. My insides warmed from the feel of his gentle touch. The wait. Finally, it was over.
“It’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other,” he said as he pulled away.
Then he turned on the ignition, and I relaxed for the first time in hours. The stereo played a low, soothing classical piece that I didn’t recognize. A few cars passed, then someone stopped to let us join the procession.
“When did you decide to do this?” I asked.
“Claire called me last night to tell me... since you didn’t.” He frowned, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “I told her about seeing Brandon in the hospital, and she asked if I would share the story. Not sure where she was, but she said you’d walked in before we hung up.”
“She was hiding in the bathroom when we went out to dinner. She didn’t tell me.”
“What do you expect?” His voice cracked. “Luckily, I had enough time to change my flight. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me your dad died?”
“Don’t be mad,” I said softly like a hurt child. “I’m sorry. When you called, you were on top of the world. I wanted to let you have your day. Anyway, I did try to call you. Several times in fact. This morning at six was my last hope.”
“I was on an airplane.” he said in a monotone.
Suddenly, I felt defensive. “I didn’t know.”
“Brandon diiieed,” he said, emphasizing the word. “It wasn’t like you’d gotten a new haircut. For cryin’ out loud, I’ve been with you for months. You have to know I care by now.”
I turned inward. Knowing I hurt him didn’t help how shitty I already felt.
“What can I say? I can’t fix it. I’m just glad Mom called you.” I shifted to a slightly smart-assed tone. “Not so happy ’bout all the secrets, but I can move past that.”
He smiled. “She just wanted to surprise you. She explained everything to me when she called. Elsie, I don’t want to make you feel worse, but... you obviously still don’t trust me.”
He watched the road, eyes fixed on driving steady.
Trust. What exactly did that mean? I thought I was protecting him. “Tyler. I trust you. This wasn’t about trust, it was timing. And my timing sucked.”
“Your timing did suck.” He chuckled. “I knew something was up last Saturday. But you’re so damn convincing. ‘Just woke up, that’s all.’ You could’ve told me right then, and I’d have dropped everything to get here.”
I flipped my hands in the air. “That’s my point! You’ve worked, how hard? Months and months? I didn’t want you to drop everything. You deserved to have your moment.”
He shifted in the seat like he wrestled with the idea of his own glory, glanced at me, and sighed. “I appreciate that, I really do. But you don’t have to protect me. Even though we’re together, we have to give each other the freedom to make our own decisions. Especially in a case like this. You’ll always be my first concern.”
He refused to accept that I felt exactly the same way. I didn’t know how to get my point across. What did he need to hear?
“Tyler. I love you. I love you more than charcoal swirls and pastel blends. I love you more than cold water after walking the fields in the hot Tennessee sun. I love you more than the Bears. I love you more than red-bottomed shoes and Mercedes Benz. I don’t know how else to say that this was merely a series of mistakes that have done nothing but come back and bite me in the ass. I. Love. You.”
A smile plastered his face. “Elizabeth, what the hell can I say to that? I love you, too.”
“Good. Can we forget about it now?”
He agreed by taking my hand in his, driving with his left arm swung over the black steering wheel. He’d driven hours to get to me, dressed to the nines, and was still willing to hold my hand. His words from the funeral rang in my head: “I asked him if I could marry his daughter someday.”
“I can’t believe you went back to talk to Dad. You didn’t write about it in your journal.”
“I tore out the page.”
“Not cool.” I laughed. “Why?”
“I didn’t plan on telling you. Maybe after I asked... I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t embarrass me at all. A little taken off guard, but not embarrassed.”
“That wasn’t the reason I went to see him. But after a while, this sense of urgency nagged at me, like something kept nudging me to ask. I’m not rushing you, it just fit with my point.”
His cheeks the color of strawberry lemonade, the honesty wasn’t easy for him. It wasn’t easy for me, either. Dad said he approved of us, something I never would’ve known otherwise. Tyler had no idea how precious those words were.
“I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about Dad,” I said, squeezing his fingers.
“It’s all good. It worked out. I just hope you get it. You’re more important than a race, or a win, or anything else going on in my life. Got it?”
We smiled at each other to seal the understanding. He followed the procession down Coffee Landing Road into the ghost town with a pool hall and a post office. After a few blocks, he turned left into the cemetery. Rolling hills of variously shaped marble and granite headstones set the tone. He parked on the side of the gravel drive as a light rain misted the windshield. People walked toward a blue tent silhouetted against the horizon as dusk cast an orange and yellow glow across the sky. Halloween was a week away but goosebumps rose on my arms. We should’ve done this earlier in the day. Freakin’ creepy.
Tyler reached in the back seat. “You need a coat.” He handed me his black NorthFace jacket.
“Thank you.” I slipped it on and buried my face in the warmth. “I don’t want to go out there.” I looked up with my most pathetic-looking eyes, a shit grin to confirm the joke. “Can’t we just go home?”
“Come on now.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss. “It’s only for a little while.”
Moments later, he held my hand as we walked toward the tent at the top of the first hill. An odd bunch of color moved in the air. Squinting through the raindrops, I didn’t understand what it was. A balloon bouquet? It looked strange juxtaposed against the scene. A rainbow of primary colors blew in the wind, next to a casket and grave. What the hell? This wasn’t a birthday party. I slowed. Tyler felt the tug on his hand and turned around.
“What’s wrong?”
he asked.
I nodded at the balloons. “What are those for?”
“You’ll see.” He looked back at the gravesite.
I stood my ground. “You know about that, too?”
“No. But you won’t either if you don’t go. Right?”
“Right,” I said, apprehensively.
He didn’t understand. Balloons didn’t belong. I could only take “celebration of life” so far. I didn’t feel like rejoicing. I was kind of pissed at how Life liked to fuck me.
Tightly holding his hand, we walked the final stretch to say goodbye to Dad. As we sat in the front row next to Mom, the primary balloons bounced off each other, muted thumps rubbing like a dry erase marker squeaking across a white board.
I leaned toward Mom. “What’s with the balloons?”
Tired-eyed, she gave me a weary smile. “You’ll see.”
Grandma sat behind us, rattling on in a not-so-quiet whisper. “What the hell is that for? Damn rain, it’s miserable out here. What in the hell is that smell in the air? Who chose those colors? George, what are those balloons for?”
Tyler laced our fingers together and whispered in my ear, “Your grandmother is Nana’s long-lost sister.”
I snickered. “I know, right?”
Pastor Larry stood in front of us and led us in prayer. After we said, “Amen,” he recited Psalm 23. The sound of raindrops replaced his voice. He wiped his eyes, then broke down and cried. He’d lost a dear friend. A brother. A lump welled in my throat, as tears stung my eyes. He loved Dad. All humility set aside, his tender heart melted in front of us.
A few moments later, he took a deep breath and rubbed the pain off his face. “Here are forty-one balloons. Each one represents a year of Brandon’s life. I want to challenge each of you to look back at the years you’ve spent with him, and be grateful for the time that he was here, instead of mourning the years that he’s not.” His eyes swept the front row. “I’d like to ask the family to make gratitude your mantra. Be grateful for the memories, and don’t dwell on the what-if’s. Celebrate the great life he lived by releasing color into this gray sky to honor his vibrant spirit.”
He offered Mom his hand, helping her out of her seat. She turned to Mark and me, and we followed her out of the tent. Pastor Larry untied the strings, then handed them to Mom. She divided them between us. The three of us stepped between two white marbled headstones, raised our arms, and as a family, we let them go. They rose into the sky, colors separating, spreading in every direction. Blue, green, red, yellow – rising higher and higher, free like Dad. I watched them ascend, slowly growing smaller in the sky, as raindrops washed the tears from my cheeks.
Chapter 34
Everyone was welcome to come back to the church for dinner. Ruby and her army of Southern-cookin’ women had a spread waiting in the warm fellowship hall that made the Golden Corral look like a soup line. Tyler and I filled our plates and settled in next to Mom and Gail. Travis and Krissie were on the opposite side of us. Grandpa and Grandma sat at the far end, talking to Mark and Megan. Ravenous, I tried not to eat fast. Tyler’s plate overflowed with food.
“Got enough?” I joked.
“I’m starving.” He affirmed with a bite of broccoli salad.
Travis chuckled to himself after he took a drink of tea. “Claire, you remember that night Brandon convinced you to sneak out and go to the Pay Lake after hours?”
Her cheeks reddened. “I got into so much trouble.”
“Shit! You?” Travis’s voice reverberated off the walls, drowning out the rest of the chatter. Mom cringed, holding up her hand to shush him. “Brandon and I sat in jail for the rest of the weekend.”
She shyly covered the left side of her face with her hair. “Travis... the kids are here.”
“Stop it, Mom,” I said, and then I looked at Uncle Travis. “What happened?”
“Your dad. Crazy fucker. We were all in the pond skinny-dippin’—”
“Travis,” Mom huffed. “Details are not necessary.”
“Oh, come on. Stacy was with us, too.” He looked at Tyler and me. “Stacy was hot. Black hair, black eyes. Crazy bitch, though.”
Krissie curled her lip. “Seriously?” Her voice was high pitched like a 1980s Valley Girl.
Travis ignored her and continued. “Claire, you remember her?”
“Of course,” Mom said in a dry tone. “Who could forget Stacy?”
“She’s an accountant now,” he said. “Anyway. Evidently, one of us was too loud.”
“I wonder who that was?” Mom shifted to sarcastic mode.
“The owner of the pond called the police. We saw flashlights beams bouncing off the trees,” Travis said to Tyler and me. “Of course, we were naked, fuckin’ ducks sitting in the water. Then, two cops stepped to the edge of the pond.”
Tyler and I started laughing. Mom smiled one of those bittersweet memory smiles.
“I was scared to death!” Travis laughed. “Brandon tromped up the shore, all his glory hangin’ in the wind, and shook both cops’ hands like he was wearing a business suit. Then, he convinced them to let the girls go in exchange for us. When we walked in the jail – and yes, they made us get dressed first – Brandon stood two inches taller, chest out, looking every man in the eyes. By the time Gail was finally able to bail us out, he’d made friends with practically the whole cellblock. I swear he didn’t know a stranger. The guy could charm a snake.”
“He stayed in touch with one of those guys,” Mom said, sitting straighter. “Oh, what’s his name? Scott. Scott Pierce. Nice guy, actually.”
“I remember him,” Travis said. “He was pretty cool.”
For the next two hours, we listened to tales about Dad and Travis, Mom and Dad, Gail and Travis, Travis and various women. With each story, the tension in Krissie’s face tightened. Tyler and I laughed along, listening to tall-stories of Dad riding motocross, meeting Mom, and trying to grow up in general.
When the clock hit nine, I laid my head on Tyler’s shoulder. Too many emotions in one day. I had to go home.
“Do you care if we go?” I asked Mom. “It’s nine.”
“Sure. I won’t be far behind you.”
“Thank you.”
Tyler and I told everyone goodbye, passing out hugs to Gail, Travis, Grandpa, and Grandma. We found Ruby in the kitchen and thanked her for all her hard work. Hugs all around, we were finally able to escape back into Tyler’s car.
On the way home, he turned down the radio. “Why aren’t your dad’s parents here?”
“They died in 1993.”
“Both of them? Why?”
“They went on a trip for their twenty-fifth anniversary, and the charter bus they took to Florida hit bad weather on the way home. A horrible pile up on the interstate killed half the people on the bus. Dad was my age then, and Travis was sixteen. Gail pretty much raised them after that.”
“That’s awful. I can’t imagine losing both my parents at the same time.”
“Me either. Not after all of this. Can you imagine what Dad went through?”
“No.”
“I had nightmares for years that Mom could die, too.” I hated those nights when my brain decided to torture me with all my fears and anxieties. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
He reached across the console and took my hand.
Ten minutes later, I stood alone in my bedroom, looking in the mirror. I felt raw and numb, like I’d just gotten over the flu. I brushed out my hair, then started changing clothes. This was it. All the uncertainty, all the worries, they were gone. Just like Dad. It still didn’t feel real. When I stepped into the kitchen, Tyler was hanging up his suit.
He turned around and spotted my Bears sweatshirt. “You need some black and gold with a fleur-de-lis.”
“You know you love the Bears.”
He grinned. “You wish.”
A few minutes later, we settled on the couch next to each other. Being with him was all I wanted after my second worst-day ever. The night of th
e accident had been downgraded to third in light of the past few days. We watched TV for a while wrapped in each other’s arms.
“What happened the night your dad died?” Tyler asked.
“Mm... ” I rolled over, using his arm as a pillow.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s not that, I just haven’t said it out loud, yet.” I took a deep breath, and then I told him what happened from the moment Mark woke me to the second the last EMT left the house.
“You didn’t run,” he said gently, yet matter-of-fact.
“You know, it didn’t even cross my mind.”
“See. You’ve grown past it.”
“Maybe I have.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“Mm... ”
He twisted a lock of my hair around his fingers. “I think you are.”
I rolled closer to him and cried in his arms. He held me close, stroking my hair without a word, like he knew his embrace was the only way to ease my pain. I just needed to be held. Would I ever feel like myself again? How would I ever move on? I hated all the tears, all the sadness. When would it stop? Or would it haunt me for life?
“You all right?” he asked. I answered with a nod and a sniffle. He brushed my hair from my eyes, giving me time to regroup. “I have a question for you. I need to leave tomorrow by eleven. I have a test I have to take at three. But, will you come to breakfast with me before I go?”
“Of course.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you trust me?”
“Would you cut that shit out?”
He giggled like he’d said that just to irritate me. “All right then, give it some thought before you say no. Nana’s going to be there.”
A chill ran over me. “Does she know I’m coming?”
Life Happens on the Stairs Page 29
