by Marci Bolden
“I’d never seen your father angry before. He was always so calm. So…boring. His anger was terrifying. Like a hurricane that came out of nowhere.”
“He always had a storm brewing inside him,” Carol observed. She’d seen it every day of her life growing up.
“He…he punched Glen, and they rolled around hitting each other while I screamed for them to stop.”
Carol couldn’t imagine her father on the ground in a fist fight. Her father was always so stiff, so stern. So…proper. “Who won?”
“Nobody,” Judith said flatly. “We all lost.”
Once again, Carol felt a shock down to her core. For the first time in her life, she considered that her mom had never been happy because she’d lived a life of regret. “You chose the wrong one?”
Judith seemed to consider how to answer. “I loved your father. He was a good man.”
“But he wasn’t Glen,” Carol said with complete understanding.
“Nobody was Glen,” Judith said with a wistful smile. “Nobody could ever match him. But if I’d chosen him…”
“What?”
Judith blinked a few times before looking at Carol. “Well, I wouldn’t have you, would I? What have you told me a hundred times about John? He might not have been the right choice, but he gave us Katie. And we wouldn’t change that for anything. I loved your father. He was a good man.”
Carol didn’t miss how Judith repeated herself, as if she were trying to convince the universe she had made the right choice after all. Thinking back, she could remember her mom saying that repeatedly whenever the topic of her father came up. Judith had loved him. He was a good man.
“What happened to Glen?” she asked. “Do you know?”
Judith lowered her face as if her hands held the answer. “He went off to the war.”
“Vietnam?”
Judith’s sadness returned but changed somehow. This ran deeper than the usual melancholy that hung over her. Carol understood why, even before Judith softly said, “He didn’t come home.”
Carol took her hand and squeezed. Her heart ached for her mother’s loss. How tragic that must have been for her. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“When I found out, I cried so hard. I thought I was over him, but…” She blinked several times. “I tried not to think about him. I did okay for a long time. Then you brought John home and your dad started comparing him to Glen and saying how you were exactly like me.”
Carol opened her mouth, remembering how much her parents disapproved of John from the start, without even giving him a chance. “Is that why Dad hated him so much?”
Judith shrugged one shoulder. “He wasn’t wrong, Carol. John and Glen were cut from the same cloth. They could both charm their way out of a wet bag. They both found good girls and tried to drag them down.”
Carol laughed at that. “John didn’t try to drag me down, Mom. He just did.”
“And Glen would have dragged me down. I loved him and he loved me, but he wasn’t the responsible choice. John wasn’t either.”
Carol couldn’t argue with that, but she wasn’t focused on her choice. Another piece of her life that she’d never understood seemed to be falling into place. “Dad’s issue with me was because I reminded him of you when you were younger.”
“Your dad…”
“Was angry at me for as long as I can remember. Stop trying to sugarcoat it, Mom. He was mean for no reason, and his attitude escalated once John came into the picture. But he wasn’t really angry at me, was he? I reminded him of things he couldn’t forget. He never forgave me for falling for John because he never forgave you for Glen.”
Judith shifted in the way she always did when Carol was calling her parents out for something. “I think you’re reading an awful lot into this.”
“I don’t think so. The one thing I have never been able to figure out about Dad is what I could have done to create so much resentment from him.”
“I told you. You were too stubborn. He thought that was disrespectful.”
“Or he thought having my own mind was a threat because you used to have your own mind and it led you astray.”
Judith darted her eyes to Carol. “Your father loved you.”
“But he didn’t like me very much. Even you can’t deny that.”
Judith didn’t argue. She sighed one of her discontented sighs. “I don’t know why he was…”
“Angry.”
Once again, she didn’t counter Carol’s observation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much he hurt you. I should have protected you more. I was…I was inside my own mind by then. I didn’t always see what I should have.”
Carol didn’t have to think too hard to know she was right. Her mom always seemed to be living in her own world. “It’s okay, Mom,” she said softly. “We can’t change the past.”
“No. We can’t.”
Carol took a deep breath. The air was starting to fill with the scents of the dinner Ellen was busy cooking inside the RV. Pasta sauce and garlic bread drifted on the air. Dinner would be ready soon, but she wasn’t ready for the interruption. She was enjoying this time with her mom, finally getting to know her. Though, she didn’t like the sadness that had settled over Judith’s features again. That frown had been on her mother’s face most of Carol’s life. She rarely had seen the smile that had lit Judith’s eyes a few minutes before.
Her mother looked as if the weight of the world had found her yet again.
Squeezing Judith’s hand, Carol tugged lightly as she grinned. “So. How did you meet Glen?”
Ten
The first two days of their visit to Washington D.C. had been filled with museums and sightseeing. Not until the third day did Carol gather Katie’s ashes and put the vial into her pocket. They were going to leave her in the grass outside of the Washington Monument, but Carol had convinced the women to make one more stop first.
She was reading the content displayed on the screen of her phone when her mom distracted her.
“We’ll never find it,” Judith said.
“We’ll find it,” Carol reassured her. “I’m looking at a website with a search engine for the names.”
“There are so many.” Ellen’s soft voice was a mix of awe and sadness. “How can there be so many?”
Lifting her face, focusing on the wall before them, Carol did her best to detach from her emotions. She was really good at that, but still, she felt the weight of what they were seeing. Almost sixty-thousand names etched into granite—each one an American soldier lost to the Vietnam War.
The reality was overwhelming. The atmosphere surrounding the monument was solemn. Though the sun shone brightly in a nearly cloudless sky, the air was heavy with sorrow. Voices were quieter here, as if speaking too loudly would dishonor the fallen.
Judith stared at the wall, Ellen dabbed her eyes, and Carol returned her attention to the phone in her hands to continue the search for Glen Parsons.
“This way.” Carol turned away from the center of the monument where they’d stopped. Rather than the seemingly never-ending list of names, she focused on the year etched into the panels. If she looked at the names, her heart would shatter in her chest. So many people. So many lives cut short.
When she found 1969, she glanced at her phone again, looking for the location of Glen’s name. She counted down fourteen rows and three names in. She never knew the man, had never even known he’d existed until a few nights before, but an ache tightened her chest and tears pricked at her eyes as she found his name forever cut in stone.
She read the words several times before looking over her shoulder. Ellen was holding Judith’s hand. The sisters stood motionless. Carol couldn’t imagine how this must be impacting them. Having lived during the height of the war, they were certainly haunted by the horrors of never knowing who might be called to die next.
Carol touched Glen’s name with her fingertips. “He’s here.”
Judith lowered her face as Ellen hugged her. Carol hesitated before leavi
ng the etching to embrace her mom. Her mom wasn’t a hugger, but she clearly needed comfort at the moment. Carol enfolded her tightly, her mom’s tears soaking through the thin material covering Carol’s shoulder. She’d never seen her mother cry. Not really cry. Not even at her father’s funeral. Judith had held herself together like the pillar of strength she’d always told Carol a woman should be.
The moment didn’t last long. Judith took a deep breath through her nose, straightened her shoulders, and dabbed her eyes.
“Give me a moment, please,” she said weakly.
Ellen frowned. “Judy?”
“I need a minute,” Judith said.
Carol held her hand out to Ellen, who seemed hesitant to leave her sister. “We won’t be far, Mom.”
They stepped away, leaving Judith to do what she needed to do.
“I’m glad she told you about Glen,” Ellen said. “She was crazy about that boy.”
Carol smiled. “I wish she’d told me sooner.”
“She was ashamed. Not only of cheating on Dennis, even though she was young, but because she felt like she let Glen down by not choosing him.”
“If she loved him so much, why didn’t she?”
“She didn’t have the courage, kiddo. Times were vastly different by the time you fell for John. Disobeying your parents didn’t carry the same stigma for you as it did in our era. The Vietnam War changed a lot of things, including society. If she’d stayed with Glen, our parents would have disowned her. She would have been shamed. That would have broken her. She’s not strong like you.”
“She said that the other night. I don’t believe it. I’m sure she was scared, but she would have survived.”
“Of course she would have, darling, but things like that were more complicated back then. The movies make it sound nice, don’t they? Good girl and bad boy fall in love and triumph over social norms to live happily ever after. How did that work out for you?”
A shocked laugh rolled from Carol. “Ouch.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s true. Being with John was exciting and romantic until reality set in. Then everything was a disaster.”
“It would have been a disaster for your mother too. But in those days, if you got yourself in a mess, you stayed in that mess.”
Carol processed Ellen’s assessment for a minute. “Did she stay with Dad all those years because she didn’t believe in divorce?” Tugging her aunt’s arm to stop their stroll, Carol stared her down. “Aunt Ellen. Did Mom want to leave him?”
“I think she regretted that she married your father. I think she regretted not making her own life. But if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll convince her you’re insane and have you committed.”
Carol looked back to where her mother stood, staring at the wall. “I didn’t know she was so unhappy. Well…I knew. I guess I never considered why.” She frowned. “I always thought it was because I was such a disappointment to them.”
Ellen put her hand to Carol’s chin and turned her face back. “I don’t know how many times you have to hear this before it sinks in, but you were never a disappointment to your mother, Carol. Some choices you made were disappointing, yes, but that is worlds away from you being a disappointment. She is, and always has been, proud of you.”
She smiled at her aunt. “I’m starting to figure that out.”
“Good. Then I would say you have come a long way from where you were when you arrived in Florida.”
“We’ve both come a long way,” Carol said. “Thank you for convincing her to take this trip.”
“You’re welcome.” Ellen hugged her close and kissed her cheek. “Come on. I don’t want her standing there reliving the past too long. She’ll get lost in it. Like someone else tends to do,” she added, giving Carol a gentle nudge.
Rejoining Judith, Carol took the paper and pencil from her bag and offered them to her mother. She and Ellen stood back as Judith held the paper to the wall and rubbed the lead over Glen’s name until the etching was clearly visible on the paper.
Once she was done, Carol opened the journal she’d brought, and Judith placed the page inside. Carol closed the leather cover and put the book back into her bag, ensuring the paper wouldn’t be crinkled or torn as they continued their journey toward healing.
“Next stop,” she said, “that big towner. The one for dat president.”
Judith laughed as she wiped her nose. “Oh, Katie was so funny.”
“I’m guessing that means the big tower for George Washington?” Ellen asked.
“The very one,” Carol said.
Caroline winced when her father slammed the driver’s door of the car. She couldn’t see his face from where she sat in the back seat, but she didn’t have to. The anger on his face was something so familiar, she saw his pressed lips and narrowed eyes in her sleep.
“Third place,” he said as he started the car. “She got third place.”
“She worked hard,” her mom said, buckling her seat belt.
“Clearly not hard enough.”
Her father turned in his seat, but Caroline didn’t look up. “How do you explain this?”
Hot tears filled her eyes as shame settled over her. If her father had let her do her project on photosynthesis, she would have gotten first. He’d made her change her topic halfway through because he didn’t think the process was interesting enough. With less than two weeks left, he made her start over with a project about antibodies and blood types. If he’d left her alone…
“Caroline!”
She jumped and had no choice but to look at him now. He was as angry as she’d imagined.
“How do you explain this?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said, turning around. “You spent all weekend playing with that Carter kid.”
One afternoon. She’d spent one afternoon following Maryanne Carter around, pretending they were friends. Maryanne had ignored her, as always, but Caroline acted like that was part of the game. Because being ignored by a kid her age was better than having her father hover over her, telling her how she was doing her science project all wrong.
Caroline bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of him. The big jerk would tell her that was wrong too.
“It’s just a science fair,” Judith said. “A sixth-grade science fair, Dennis. She’s not being graded on how she placed.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she could have done better if she hadn’t goofed around all weekend.”
Caroline bit down harder. And harder. Not stopping until she tasted blood. The pain and the metallic taste gave her something to focus on so she didn’t hear her father complaining in the front seat. He wasn’t talking to her anyway. He was telling her mom how it was her fault that Caroline had failed yet again. She wasn’t doing her job as a mother. She wasn’t being attentive enough. Great. Now her mom was going to be the one hovering. That was almost worse than when her dad stood over her.
At least she knew what to anticipate from him. He was angry all the time. He was never happy, no matter what Caroline did. Her mom was like an emotionless robot. She seemed empty inside most of the time, which was creepy, but then she’d snap and be mad or sad. Caroline never knew what to expect from her.
Her mom tried to explain that kids can’t work all the time, but her dad started lecturing her about how he had a full-time job by the time he was in high school. He understood what it meant to be responsible when he was young. Caroline was spoiled. That was the problem. She was spoiled and didn’t think she had to work for anything.
Caroline tuned them out. An argument was going to start soon. Not an argument, really, because her worthless mom never fought back. It was more like her dad telling them how they weren’t living up to his standards and her mom never standing up for herself or her kid.
He said something about how his daughter was going to live up to her potential, but Caroline was already slippin
g deep into her own world. She was already pulling her mind inside herself so she hadn’t clearly heard him. His ranting continued all the way home.
Once they were inside, Caroline tried to rush to her room, but he caught her by the arm and pulled her with him. His fingertips dug painfully into her bicep as he all but dragged her to the table. He shoved her into a chair and leaned close.
“Third place gets you three pages. Before bed.”
“Dad!” She looked at her mom but, as always, didn’t get any support.
Her mom simply lowered her face and turned away. She focused on unbuttoning her jacket instead of the unreasonable punishment being put on her daughter.
“You will write three pages. Do you understand?” He didn’t wait for a reply because he wasn’t really asking. He slammed the encyclopedia onto the table with the notebook that Caroline had filled halfway already.
This was her punishment for getting anything less than A. Or getting a word wrong on her spelling test. Or answering wrong on her math homework. Or placing third in the science fair. She would sit there and copy the encyclopedia, word for word, into the notebook. If she wrote too big or tried to skip words, he would make her do the pages over.
“You will live up to your potential,” he said before turning away.
Caroline looked to her mother. Three pages before bed?
Her mom gave her a soft smile and went into the kitchen.
“I hate you,” Caroline muttered. “I hate both of you.” She didn’t dare say the words loud enough to be heard, but she felt them. She felt them down to her bones. And she would never stop hating them. They were the worst parents ever.
She flipped to the bookmarked page that started with Cresson, Elliott. Sniffing back her tears, she found the last page in the notebook she’d filled and started copying the words as her mother placed a cookie and a glass of milk on the table. Caroline wasn’t allowed to have anything but water after dinner, which they’d eaten before going to the fair. Her mom was breaking the rules. Caroline wasn’t impressed. If Mom wanted to break the rules, she could tell Dad that his demands were stupid. She could tell Caroline she didn’t have to copy three pages of the encyclopedia. She could tell Dad that he was a jerk.
