“Determined?” I repeated. “That’s a strange way to describe a three-year-old.”
He laughed, a full belly laugh that shook the table and caused the contents of my soup to vibrate.
“Well. When you had your heart set on something, you accomplished it. You were trying to read, write, and even do arithmetic, all by the age of three. You even had these fake little glasses that you’d dress up in. We called you our pint-size professor.”
It was nice to have a tangible character trait. I had vague memories, but hearing them flooded me with the relief that I had known I needed all along.
“The peacock costume.” I suddenly looked up, making eye contact with my dad. I wondered if he could hear the loud buzzing in my head.
Dad smiled. “You remember that! I think you were only two.”
I had a memory bursting its way out of wherever it as buried. There was a small girl with curly blonde hair, twirling in circles. She was wearing a white leotard with various feathers glued on. Music was playing as she twirled faster and faster until she stopped. She was standing in a room full of feathers which had blown off her costume. Tears formed in her eyes as she looked down at them all. A woman approached, her voice soft. “Don’t cry. All birds shed their feathers to make room for new ones which are even more beautiful. You’re molting.”
“I’m molten?” The little girl brushed away her tears. “I’m molten!” she yelled again, this time with pride and excitement in her voice. She kicked away the feathers and everyone laughed.
My dad’s voice brought me back to reality. “You made your first Halloween costume when you were two years old. I don’t think many adults can even say that they’ve done that. Granted, yours was just feathers and a glue stick.”
I often felt like I was recovering from amnesia when those memories came out of nowhere.
“How would you describe me now?” I asked next.
“Still determined, but softer in a way.”
It was an odd way to hear myself described; the change seemed like the exact opposite of what happened as most people progressed from children to adults.
Dad’s phone started to vibrate on the table. “Why all the questions, kiddo?” he asked as he silenced the call.
“Just curiosity.” Dad’s phone buzzed again. “You can answer that.” I nodded towards the phone on the table. He gave me a grateful smile and exited the room, not before yelling at me one last time to finish eating my soup.
I pushed the bowl away and left to get dressed in something other than sweatpants.
When I saw Dad again, he was buttoning up his coat. “Work doesn’t stop on Saturdays. I’ve gotta go in for a few hours. You gonna be okay?”
I coughed for good measure. “I’ll manage.”
“Good.” He ruffled my hair affectionately, something he did quite often, and headed out. Honestly, I was happy that he was called in. There was something I was planning on doing, but I needed just the right moment. Burt was lying across my laptop, purring away. I shooed him off, and with a few clicks the screen came to life with a list of cemeteries I had been researching. The article said that the crash happened in Silverton Springs. I knew that Ethan taught his first job in a city nearby, meaning he had to live somewhere close to those.
As I hovered over Pine Hill Cemetery, my fingers had their familiar tingling sensation. That was the right one. I knew it before I even opened it up on maps to get a better look at it. It was in a secluded area of town, located on the base of a hill which housed a chapel that overlooked the city. Something told me that it was the one Ethan would have chosen.
It was forty-five minutes away, and I still didn’t know what I was looking for or what I’d find when I got there. Would Glen be standing on top of the hill? I couldn’t tell if cemeteries were like home for guardian angels, or if they were places they avoided since they technically weren’t dead. Or were they?
I drove in silence, choosing to be alone with my thoughts on the journey. The road grew bumpier and the trees grew more closely together as I got close to the location. If this didn’t work, I knew I wouldn’t stop looking until I found Ethan or his daughter. A rickety fence and a giant green sign told me I had arrived. I parked next to a mausoleum made of cream-colored bricks which were just starting to crumble underneath the seasons it had withstood. It still had a lot of beauty left in it. I did a few laps around the giant loop that ran through the center of the cemetery. I was the only person there on this cold and drizzling morning. The wind had started to pick up, and I hoped it would blow me in the right direction.
My sweater had gotten damp and I had no idea where to look. This was a waste. I went up another small hill, moving towards another section of graves.
“Yuck.” I jumped back. Something cold and wet was blown against my exposed ankle. I crouched down and shook the raindrops off. It was a bag of bright pink cotton candy. Somewhere along its adventure through the cemetery it had lost its zip tie. The contents were mixed with raindrops, causing parts of it to disintegrate. What the hell? I shook out as much of the water as I could. Although I had no clue if someone was actually missing the candy or if it had blown from a garbage can. It was a strange thing to bring to a cemetery, but something told me to hang onto it, and so I did. Apart from the rain damage, it looked fresh. Maybe someone with answers was nearby.
I descended another small hill opposite of where I entered and found what I was looking for. Ethan’s orange jeep stood out in stark contrast. To what, I didn’t know. He was technically the only living thing in the cemetery.
I didn’t gasp or yell in shock. Something had told me that he’d be there, that I just had to find him. I ran my fingers against the orange paint, making sure it was real. It was.
That’s when I saw it. It was a tree unlike any I had seen before. It was the only one in the cemetery that still kept its leaves, dazzling reds and oranges. As if knowing I was watching, a breeze came through and shook several of them free. I watched as they swirled around on the ground in some sort of dance I was privileged enough to watch.
That was where Ethan would be. I walked towards the tree, my low heels sinking into the soft ground. I was careful not to step directly over anyone, ignoring the thoughts of how, in a cemetery not too far away, Dylan was buried underneath similar soft earth.
Right in the middle of a row of small headstones, a male figure was slumped over as he worked to arrange something in front of a grave. I inched closer, unsure of how to approach. He had a black beanie on, protecting him from the rain that was coming down harder. Most of what he was doing was blocked by his body, but I saw two small brightly-colored bears and a bouquet of orange and red flowers that matched the very tree the headstone was near.
I was almost directly behind him, watching as he lined up three rubber ducks on top of the headstone. They were the kind you’d see at a carnival. Actually, everything he had seemed to fit that theme.
That’s how I knew the cotton candy belonged there. It had blown from that collection to me, connecting us. Rather, Glen had connected us, just as he did when he forged the note in the librarian’s handwriting.
When the man at the grave heard me approaching, he turned and looked up. It was Ethan, all right, sitting on a small and tattered mat weathered from many visits. I didn’t know what to do, but he made the decision for us. He scooted over and patted the spot next to him. His expression remained unchanged.
I had no words, and nothing mattered in that moment. Not the fact that I was a student, or that he was a teacher, or that I was dead myself.
Instead, I took the spot next to him, where I finally felt I belonged, and rested my head on his shoulder. He leaned his head on top of mine, and we said nothing for the longest time.
A gust of wind blew one of the ducks off the headstone and near my feet. I picked it up and gingerly replaced it back near the others, knowing somehow that it would stay there this time. When I sat back down, I stared at Ethan, forcing him to look back at me. His eyes said e
verything. They encompassed what it meant to be completely and totally broken by something.
“This is beautiful.” I held back my tears as I gestured at the bouquet and bears. “Did she like carnivals?”
He let out a long sigh. “Loved them. After the first one we went to, it was all she could talk about. ‘Dad can we have otton andy for lunch?’” His voice was shaking now. “She couldn’t pronounce her c’s.”
He didn’t let the tears fall. Instead, they stayed pooled in his eyes, which was an even harder sight to see. I pulled him in, wrapping my arms tight around him. I didn’t want to let go and, as he held onto me tightly, I knew he didn’t either. It’s hard to say how long we sat there, entwined, the wind eventually dying down.
He pulled away first and gave me a small smile. “When I left the house this morning, I had a feeling that you would find your way here.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have asked. I just knew I needed to find you after everything that happened.”
“It’s okay. I’ve kept it in for so long. Even switching schools so I wouldn’t have to deal with all the questions, the cards, the--everything. I thought I wanted to be alone, which is why I came to Margaret Fielder High.”
It didn’t surprise me that Chase was one of the only ones who knew what had happened.
I didn’t want to be intrusive. It was not the time to ask what happened to the mother of his little girl, or if she was his wife. I knew from the newspaper clipping that a woman had survived the accident.
“So, you’re probably wondering exactly what happened. Whenever I’m here, I hear the whispers about how gorgeous her grave is. Then, I hear the even quieter whispers wondering what happened to cause a 3-year-old girl to die.”
“I heard it was a drunk driver. I’m so sorry.” I put my arm back around his shoulders, giving him a soft squeeze. I didn’t want to pressure him to say any more than what he felt comfortable sharing.
“I’m supposed to talk about it more,” he continued, answering my thoughts. “At least, that’s what my therapist has said over the years. I spent so much time the last two years bottling up the anger until I found the opportunity to turn it into something positive.”
“The volunteer opportunities.” I finally understood. It was why he helped the people from the rehab center. It was the reason he was so passionate and angry about keeping all of his students safe. It was why he visited Jenna. Those were his purposes. He didn’t want what had happened to him to happen to anyone else. “Oh, Ethan.” I couldn’t imagine what strength it took him to put himself in all of those situations. How he fought so hard to protect the people who mimicked the kind of person the drunk driver was. What I was doing paled in comparison to the battles he faced every day.
He was the one who turned to me, cupping my face towards him so that he could wipe the tear that had fallen from my eye.
“I want to tell you everything.” His voice came out barely above a whisper.
As he began to talk about that night, the cemetery closed in around me as if collapsing into itself. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, I was again standing in an open field covered with snow. I wasn’t alone. A little blonde girl was clutching my hand tightly. She was beautiful, and I knew instantly that she was Ethan’s. She looked up at me with the same green eyes as she showed me a red fuzzy monster toy that she had clutched in her other hand.
“Come with me,” she whispered as I nodded. She had her C’s again. Had she aged in heaven? We walked forward, and I knew she was taking me to her final moments even before the outline of a neighborhood came into view. The snow was falling heavily, blanketing everything in sight. I could make out the red flags on the mailboxes, managing to stand out in a sea of white. I let go of Olivia’s hand as she ran up to a woman who I knew was her mother and Ethan’s wife.
“Let’s gooooooo,” Olivia shouted as she jumped up and down, laughing at the footprints that her purple butterfly boots were making in the snow.
“One second, honey,” Ethan yelled to her as he bent down to kiss the woman’s forehead. She was the spitting image of Olivia, except that her eyes were dark. She had her hands tucked neatly into Ethan’s coat pockets for warmth.
“Mooooom,” Olivia yelled again. This time she was jumping up and down pulling on the car handle.
Ethan laughed, handing the woman a bag packed with toys. “Here’s everything. You girls have a safe trip, and give your mom a hug and best wishes for surgery from me.”
“Love you, Daddy.” Olivia blew him a kiss as the woman helped her into the car seat. Ethan stood outside, watching them as they pulled out of the driveway.
The mother drove slowly as she cranked the wipers at full speed to keep up with the snow. Olivia was chattering away in the back.
“Moooooom.” Olivia yelled again, peering into her bag of toys. “I want monsty please.”
“Driving, sweetie. We'll get it at the next stop.”
Roughly twenty minutes passed on their journey as they sang along to the Christmas songs on the radio. They were approaching the interstate. All that stood between them and Olivia’s grandma’s house was a desolate road almost completely covered in snow that blurred the lines.
They were both oblivious to me sitting in the back seat with them.
Olivia was chattering away. “Gramma, gramma, gramma.” She peered in the bag again. “Mom! Montsy not here. Daddy forgot monsty.”
The woman laughed as she picked up her phone, dialing Ethan. I listened in intently as she spoke. “Monsty isn’t here.” I couldn’t hear what he said. The woman gave an exasperated sigh in response. Olivia was fiddling with her car-seat strap in an effort to unbuckle it to get a better view into the bag. I heard the click, which meant she had succeeded.
“Don’t do that,” I yelled out, forgetting that I didn’t really exist. Olivia looked straight at me as if I did, however.
“She said he isn’t here. You know how important that toy is to her.” The conversation continued. The woman gave a few more uh-huh’s before speaking again. “Fine. Next time put it on the top. Otherwise it’s a pain to dig through.”
There were no cars around. In fact, there wasn’t anyone on the road, but the woman took her time carefully looking around to make sure they were alone at the four-way stop sign. She then turned around, grabbing the bag of toys from next to her daughter. A wide-eyed, happy-looking monster was pulled from the bag.
“Please check her buckle,” I implored, but it fell on deaf ears.
Olivia cheered, stroking the red feathers that covered the strange-looking creature. She was ecstatic. “Monsty!” she yelled as she bounced it up and down on her lap.
“The strap!” I yelled again, but the woman had turned back around, pulling into the intersection.
I saw the pickup truck coming from the left, sliding all over the road, before anyone else did. Actually, they never even saw it. Its headlights were off, and it didn’t show any signs of slowing down, going faster than road conditions allowed for. I screamed, as loud as I possibly could, but it was all for nothing. I wanted to grab the wheel, but an invisible force was keeping me right where I was.
Everything was happening at once. I couldn’t help. This wasn’t my destination door.
There was a deafening crack, and the screams filled the car and my head, drowning out any thought I had.
The wind was blowing my hair in front of my face. I was no longer in the car. I was instead standing in the middle of the road as I watched the impact. It was almost as if it were in slow motion so that I could hear every scream through the windows. Smoke filled the air as a shadowy figure slowly extracted himself from the pickup truck with its shattered windows. I moved closer. The inside of the man’s vehicle and his sweater were covered in the red feathers from Olivia’s monster. I watched as he picked them off, moving closer to the car he had just hit.
“Shit,” he yelled. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of stale booze.
He took off running just as I hea
rd the soft cries coming from the car. I couldn’t tell who they belonged to, and I didn’t want to know.
“The bastard was drunk.” I was once again sitting next to Ethan. The cold drizzle had stopped. “He never even checked on them. The only thing he would come to remember is the way his car filled up with the bright red feathers from Olivia’s stuffed monster.”
It was taking everything Ethan had to recall these painful memories. I knew he had kept them wrapped up tightly for so long. He was the one who leaned into me first, his whole body against mine as I wrapped my arms tightly around him. His body was shaking with silent sobs. His face was pressed into my shoulder and I could barely hear when he spoke again. “She blames me for everything. To this day, she still blames me.”
Olivia? Was he thinking that sweet Olivia was blaming him for what happened? Had he somehow had contact with her?
He shook his head no, and I didn’t want to press him for anything more than he was willing to give me.
“You can’t blame yourself. You just can’t.” I wished that was enough to make him believe.
I knew I personally had no right to be angry at the situation, but I couldn’t help it. Ethan didn’t need to beat himself up. He couldn’t have changed what happened. I hated that he thought he could. I knew, more than anyone, how those things worked.
It was the fault of the man who made the decision to drink and drive-- his fault alone. He didn’t even bother to check on them. What kind of person could just walk away from the cries like that?
He failed that little girl, not Ethan. I needed Ethan to know that. Except, there were no words.
Ethan and I sat there, my arms never leaving him, as the day eventually turned to dusk.
That was what he’d needed all along. Someone to tell him that it wasn’t his fault.
I was angry at whoever had been given the purpose of stopping the accident, because they had failed that little girl along with the drunk driver. Not Ethan, and I needed him to know that.
If Heaven Had Cheese Fries Page 24
