by SC Alban
With their unwell loved ones, my inner voice chimed in.
My muscles tensed. Again, my stomach warned me that I shouldn’t be here. This place wasn’t for me. Why had I listened to Amadeo? This was such a bad choice.
As I stood in the doorway, stuck in a limbo of indecision and pondering my next move, I caught sight of Jay. His back was to me as he sat in a chair next to a woman in a rocker, but I’d recognize him anywhere. The woman was much smaller than him and slouched in the chair. A small table sat between them as they stared out the window into the garden behind the facility.
“Amadeo,” I whispered, almost inaudibly. “Can you hear me? Where are you?”
I clenched my teeth in frustration. Why did he always seem to be around when I didn’t want him to be, and then, in times like this, when the only reason I was there was because of him, he was miraculously nowhere to be found?
You shouldn’t be here! Leave now! my brain screamed as my feet shuffled forward, slowly approaching the pair until I was in earshot.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Mom,” Jay said softly as he reached over and grabbed her hand. The woman pulled it away.
My heart stopped. She had the same tawny-colored skin as Jay.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he surrendered. “Oh, guess what? I spoke to the football coach at the JC. He said I can train with the team during the spring, and if all goes well, I’ll be prepping for quarterback next fall. I still have another semester left of high school, but I’ll gain experience and play for them when it’s time. Dad still wants me to go away; you know, try to play ball at Cal State, but I told him I’d rather stay close for a couple more years. He thinks I’m wasting my talent, but he doesn’t really get it.”
He paused. The woman was silent.
“Oh, Mom, I almost forgot,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box. “I brought you a present. It’s not much, but I thought you might enjoy it.”
He placed the box on the table between them and appeared to be waiting for her to open it. After a minute of her continuing to look out the window, he picked it back up.
“Here, let me help you,” he said as he unwrapped the gift and removed the lid. He pulled out a small, delicate bracelet made with craft beads, tied together with a piece of yarn.
“Do you remember this? Don’t worry about the nurses taking it from you; it’s been cleared.”
Silence. He shifted in his chair.
“I’m not sure if…it’s been so long, but when I was in kindergarten, we made these for Mother’s Day. I brought it home and you put it on right away, remember? It barely fit…it was so tight. You wore it every day for a week. I don’t know if you know this, but I was so happy that you wore my bracelet instead of your real ones.”
He paused.
“But then, you started not feeling well and it got lost. I actually thought Dad might have thrown it away, because I hadn’t seen it in years. But I was cleaning the garage a couple of months ago and there it was. Stuffed in an old box. Can you believe it? It must’ve fallen in there when we moved to the house. I know it’s silly, but I thought you’d like to have it again. I changed the yarn and added a couple beads, so it should fit better.”
He took the tiny bracelet and held it out to the woman. She sat motionless in the rocker as she stared into the garden. He slowly reached out and took the woman’s wrist and gently guided her hand over to the table. With care, he turned her hand face up and placed the small trinket in her palm.
The woman’s fingers closed around the beads.
“I knew you’d remember. Here, let me help,” he said as he took the bracelet from her hand and tied it around her wrist.
“There,” he said, leaning back. “It looks great. I hope you like it.”
A thick ball gathered in my throat as I witnessed this private moment with Jay and his mother. My heart reached out to him, and again, my brain told me I was wrong to be there. This was not my moment to see. I sniffed as tears collected in the rims of my eyes and held my breath as Jay looked up at me.
“Megan?” he sputtered, a streak of scarlet spreading across his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I…” I stammered, not knowing what I could say to make my presence there acceptable. There was no excuse I could give him. I opted to go with the truth…somewhat.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I confessed. “I was looking for something…different and got…lost. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
I said the words as fast as I could and turned back toward the hallway leading to the reception area. I ran down the corridor, flung the door at the end open, and fell into the waiting room. Ignoring the surprised receptionist, I dusted myself off and ran out of the building, not stopping until I reached the safety of my truck. Amadeo was already there.
“Where the hell were you?” I shot at him the moment I closed the door and started the engine. I wasn’t going to hang around any longer and chance running into Jay again. I was ashamed and embarrassed. Ashamed to have stolen those moments with his mom from him. Embarrassed that all I wanted to do was to be near him, hold his hand, and comfort him.
“I told you, I snuck a look at the back,” he replied calmly. “Did you know they have a beautiful garden out there? Quite lovely even now, all covered with snow. So beautiful. I was able to have a nice look around. Did you find Jay?”
“I should’ve never been in there. I had no place sneaking around like that, and—ugh!” I grunted out loud. “Why do I even listen to you?”
“But did you find Jay?” he persisted.
I wove through the traffic faster than I normally would. Anything to put physical distance between myself and what I’d done. Emotionally, I had a feeling this stunt would follow me around for a while, maybe even forever.
“Well, I’m glad you had time to take in the view.” My tone was bitter. “To answer your question, yes, Jay was there.” My eyes focused on the road ahead. My insides knotted. “He was visiting his mom.”
I let the hum of the truck fill the void between us.
“Amadeo,” I said after we were nearly back home and I’d calmed down a bit. “We shouldn’t have followed him. Not today. Not there. I feel really bad about sneaking around. I don’t know how things are done in the Emotion Realm, but here on Earth, what we did was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone in like I did. He deserves his privacy. It wasn’t right.”
I remembered how his mother’s fingers barely curled around the bracelet, and I stifled the urge to be sick. It was the smallest gesture—one most people wouldn’t have even noticed. My throat tightened at the image now firmly planted in my memory. My shoulders tensed. I rolled them back, trying to rid myself of my feelings of unease.
“Plus, it did no good because I still have no idea who would make a good match for Jay,” I continued. “So I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say today was a total loss.”
We drove the rest of the way without speaking. Mr. Chatty Chatterpants was unusually quiet considering I’d made little progress on finding a good match. We were running out of time until the new year, and Amadeo would be expected back in his realm, with his quota filled.
As we pulled into my driveway, what had happened still loomed in my head. I couldn’t extract my actions, or Jay, from my thoughts. How could someone endure as much as he had and still manage to live his life every day as if nothing was wrong?
Guilt prodded me, reminding me of all the less favorable things I’d said and thought about him. Was this why he was so flaky? Why he cancelled so many times? What kind of person was I to make such harsh judgments about someone I didn’t even know?
I’d thought he was so different from me, and yet, those stolen moments in the treatment center showed me we were more alike than I could’ve ever imagined. I was confused and frustrated. How could someone live two different lives? I’d never been able to separate my private life from who I was in public; the death of my mother had consumed both.
&n
bsp; After my chores, I left Amadeo in the barn and headed up to the main house, lost in my thoughts. Tomorrow was Christmas. I’d invited him to join us in the main house, invisible, of course, but he politely declined, stating he had too much work left to do for this last mark. As I climbed the porch steps, I was grateful he declined. It might be for the best if we had some space from each other. Lord knew I could use it. Especially after today. I was looking forward to forgetting about playing cupid…for one day, anyway.
As I entered the kitchen, Dad was at the stove heating a pot of water.
“I’m making hot chocolate. You want some?”
I stopped in my tracks, and the memory of hot chocolates past floated to the forefront of my mind. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pushed them down. There’d be no crying tonight. I nodded gratefully. He brought the mugs over to the table, sat down, and motioned for me to take the empty chair across from him.
“You know,” he said, “we’ll never get back the past. That’s all on me, and I regret it dearly. I said it last night, but I’ll say it again, a thousand times if I have to, but if you let me in, if you find it in your heart to give me another chance—I want to make things better. I want to know you again.”
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed his brow. I thought of Jay, sitting with his mother, desperately trying to have a conversation with her. Deep lines creased Dad’s forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes had become permanent fixtures on his face.
I sat there and watched him, his hand pulling across his forehead to wipe his brow, and knew I still needed him. I still wanted him. I wanted to repair our broken relationship, and I was lucky enough to have that chance still. I wouldn’t throw it away. My heart filled my chest.
I needed my dad.
Looking across at him, I smiled. The mug of chocolate was steaming, and giant marshmallows floated on its surface like clouds. Picking up the cup with both hands, I took a small sip. I closed my eyes briefly as images long since buried rose to the surface the moment it touched my lips.
“It tastes like memories,” I said, letting the chocolate fill me up with its rich sweetness.
He swallowed hard before taking a sip from his own cup and smiled. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
We sat in the kitchen talking until late into the night. Remembering, relearning, renewing everything that had once been there, but had stayed hidden for so long. I took a chance and let my guard down, and for the first time since before Mom died, I knew everything was going to be all right.
Chapter Thirteen
On Christmas morning, I awoke to a new layer of snow. I peeked out my window at the white, fuzzy landscape. It looked so clean, too clean, but snow had a way making even the oldest landscapes look fresh. My mother had always anxiously waited for that fresh new dusting year after year.
I grabbed the patchwork quilt at the foot of the bed and threw it over my shoulders, hugging it tight around my body, and made myself comfortable on my window seat. I leaned my head against the window frame. It chilled my forehead.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered out loud. “I wish you were here right now. You know, you’re right; somehow, everything looks much better after it snows.”
“Maybe she sent it to you.”
“Jesus!” I yelled, falling off my seat onto the hardwood floor as Amadeo’s voice echoed in my room. I would never get used to his popping up with no warning.
“You seriously have some privacy issues,” I said, getting up. “What the heck are you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you had too much work to do,” I snapped as I repositioned myself on the seat, irritated by his invasion. I pulled the quilt tighter around me. “I’m not even dressed yet.”
“Goodness, someone rolled out of the wrong side of the bed.” Amadeo feigned insult. “And I’ve got loads of work, but I got bored, okay? There’s only so much conversation you can have with a horse. Don’t misunderstand me, Cosmo and I are tight, but I do appreciate when a conversation goes both ways.”
“Are you saying that you missed me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, but you’ve kind of grown on me.”
“Aww, you missed me,” I teased.
He placed his hands on his hips and walked to my bed.
“Ugh, humans and their egos,” he huffed.
Kicking off his boots, he jumped up onto the bed. Propping a couple pillows against the headboard, he stretched out his legs and leaned back with a gratified sigh. As he made himself at home, I was thankful he was at least wearing socks. I shook my head.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, shifting the pillows a few more times before settling in.
I leaned back into my place in the window seat. “What did you mean when you said my mom sent it to me? When I was talking about the snow.”
“I just meant maybe your mom knows how much you like the snow and sent it to you. You know, like a Christmas gift.”
“My mother’s dead,” I said, my voice flat.
It had taken a few years after her death before I was even able to say those words out loud. I remembered how twelve-year-old me had thought if I didn’t say it aloud, then perhaps it wasn’t true. However, as time passed, reality set in. The words came out with an ease I still wasn’t comfortable with but found solace in their finality.
“That may be true,” he agreed, “but when a soul leaves the physical body, it has only just begun its journey into the spirit world. There’s more out there than what many humans perceive; it’s just different.”
“So, you’re saying my mom sent me this snow from the spirit world?” I couldn’t hide the cynicism from my tone. Sensing it, he narrowed his eyes.
“I’m saying it is very likely your mother’s spirit sent this snow to you as a way to let you know she’s still around,” he replied. “In her own way.”
“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes.
Amadeo huffed. “Look here, just because you can’t lay eyes on it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Until a very unfortunate display of driving occurred, cupids were just a silly little myth that didn’t exist, a bunch of make-believe hokum. I bet you’d never guessed, not in three lifetimes, you’d be standing in for me anytime soon, did you?”
A smirk spread across his face. I grumbled and focused on the snow. A smile fought to escape my lips, remembering Jay’s question about my winter break plans. I’d told him nothing exciting ever happened to me. A laugh tickled my throat. Running all over the countryside in the snow trying to help a cupid meet his love-match quota had never been on my Things To Do list, but somehow it happened. So what if I’d been tragically wrong about the existence of cupids? I still wouldn’t be admitting it any time soon. Amadeo was already too full of himself. And I really hated when he was right. Instead, I stared out the window and mumbled my discontent knowing he’d won this argument…for now.
“You know,” I began, “I really don’t prefer the snow. I mean, it’s okay and all, but I don’t love it…not like she did. I guess the only reason I like it at all is because she was so fond of it. She always said it reminded her of some of her favorite things, like powdered sugar on French toast or baby powder after a hot bath.”
A knock at my bedroom door brought our conversation to a halt.
“Megan.” Dad’s voice was tentative. “You decent?”
“Yeah,” I answered, shooing Amadeo away. “Come in.”
He opened the door carefully.
I snapped my head around to the spot where Amadeo had made himself comfortable. The tricky cupid had already vanished. Man, he was quick. I turned back toward the door to where my dad stood, his hands buried deep in his jean pockets.
“Is everything okay?” he said, his voice careful. “I thought I heard you talking.”
“Yeah, I was just…” What could I say? “…talking to myself.”
His eyebrows lifted, revealing the worry lines on his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “I was just thinking about a few things I need to finish up before the holidays are over…and about mom. She loved the snow. Do you remember how she said—”
“Powdered sugar on French toast,” he finished, a look of pain shooting across his face, followed by a sad smile. “She did, didn’t she?” he continued. “You know, that’s kinda why I’m here. I was wondering if you’d want to come with me to visit her at the cemetery today. Before you answer”—he held up his hand—“I know in the past you haven’t wanted to go, but perhaps just this once, on Christmas, we could go visit her together. What do you think?”
The air sucked out of me.
“If you need time to think it through, I understand. I didn’t mean to spring it on you last minute. I…I just thought it might be nice to go together this once.”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t been to the cemetery since my mother was buried. The thought of walking along the neatly-organized rows lined with tombstones created a knot in my stomach. It wasn’t like she was actually there. But Amadeo’s earlier words rang in my head and I reconsidered. What if her spirit had been minding over me all these years, and I hadn’t shown her how much I missed her by visiting her resting place? No. Not possible. Surely, she’d know how much I still missed her by how I spoke to her all the time, wouldn’t she? She had to know how much her death had altered my very existence, how much I wished she were with me every day.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”
He smiled and nodded.
“That’s good. I’m glad you’ll be joining me,” he said quietly. “Take your time getting ready. I was thinking we’d head out in a couple hours.”
I nodded as he left, closing the door behind him.
Taking a big breath, I turned back to my room.
“You can come out now,” I said as soon as I heard my father’s footsteps on the stairs.
