Raining On Heaven

by Amanda Foote

  Marlene looked up from the photograph and set her glass on the counter. “The lawyer called today.” She paused, expecting me to respond. When I didn’t, she continued.

  “Heaven, Cadence left everything she owned to you. Even Bliss, if you want her.”

  I felt my heart sink to my stomach. “But, I-”

  “I know, you told her no. But she wanted you to have a chance to change your mind one last time. If you still don’t want to, she’ll go to me. I’ll be her legal guardian.”

  We were interrupted by a cry from the den. Bliss had just woken up from her nap. I sighed. “I still need to think about it, okay? Can I have some time?”

  Marlene nodded. “Of course, my dear.”

  I stood up to go get Bliss just as there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Marlene said, and I headed toward Cadence’s old room, which we had begun to convert into a room for Bliss.

  I found Bliss standing in her playpen, rubbing her wet eyes with her fists. I picked her up and laid her against my shoulder, where she whimpered for her mama and I patted her back. “It’s okay, baby. Everything will be okay.” And that was the first lie I would ever tell her.

  I came back into the kitchen just as I heard Marlene’s voice at the front door.

  “Just where the fuck have you been?”

  I’ve never heard Marlene talk like this in all the time I’ve known her. The most cursing I’d ever experienced out of her was a well-placed f-bomb or two in her books. So I knew, without even missing a beat, exactly who this was at the door.

  “Hi, honey,” he greeted her. His voice was not as gruff as I expected my grandfather’s voice to sound.

  “Don’t call me honey,” she commanded, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “Answer my question.”

  I worked my way through the dining room toward the door. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know what he looked like… if he looked like me. I could just barely see him as I came closer. Dark skin, sad eyes, a thick mustache and long hair.

  “I’ve been at home, honey, in Mexico.”

  “Home?” she scoffed. “Home is where your family is. Home is where your daughter died. Home is where you don’t just send a postcard after her death and then show up five months later at your only remaining daughter’s doorstep.”

  His eyes were tired, beaten. “Honey…” he pleaded.

  “Stop calling me that!” she screamed.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel. Should I feel sorry for the old man being screamed at outside a screen door? Or feel angry for the woman whose father abandoned her?

  Fernie’s eyes roamed toward me. He took a deep breath. “Is that Heaven?” he asked. Marlene nodded tersely. “Please, h… Marlene. May I come in and see my granddaughter?”

  Marlene stood stagnant for eight seconds before she sighed frustratedly and reached to open the screen door for him. “Fine. You can come in. But you’re not staying.”

  He nodded his agreement and walked in. He turned toward me. “You look so much like your mother,” he said. He crossed the few steps between us, and reached a hand up as if he were going to touch my cheek, but he thought better of it and let his hand fall. “I am your abuelo, Fernando. But please, call me Fernie.”

  “Fernie,” I repeated. “Hi. I’m Heaven.”

  Marlene snickered and passed behind us on her way to the kitchen.

  He laughed, a big hearty laugh full of wit, and it reminded me of Marlene’s laugh. “Yes, I know. But thank you for the reminder,” he said, and winked.

  He gestured toward Bliss. “Who is this?”

  I continued to rub Bliss’ back, who had stopped whimpering and was starting to fall back asleep. “This is Bliss,” I said. “She’s… well, I guess she’s your great granddaughter.”

  “Oh,” he said, taking half a step back in surprise. “Yours?”

  “No,” I replied, but I didn’t offer him an explanation. “I actually need to put her back down, if you don’t mind…”

  He nodded. “Of course. You go.” I backed up slowly and passed through the kitchen, where Marlene had poured herself a glass of wine and was currently downing it. She set the glass back down on the counter with a sharp tap and began pouring herself another. I went into the den. Bliss had fallen back asleep so as gently as I could, I placed her back down in her playpen. She snored lightly. I kissed her wet cheek and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

  When I came back into the kitchen, Marlene and Fernie both stood at the kitchen island, talking in hushed voices. Marlene’s face appeared to be scrunched up in anger and she gripped the stem of her wine glass with her fist. I grabbed my keys and purse from the counter beside them. I didn’t want to be privy to this. “I’ll be back later,” I said, and Marlene nodded at me as I rushed toward the door.

  I drove toward the lake. I didn’t mean to go there really, by any means, because it reminded me so much of Dillard and I just didn’t want to think about him. But I needed to think, and it was the most peaceful place I knew of.

  The beach was surprisingly empty of people for a summer evening. Only eight kids played in the swimming area, and two sets of parents relaxed on the shore nearby. I avoided them all and walked left from the parking lot. I walked down the beach a little way, past the open field and community building where Liberty Bell once told me she photographed her first wedding, until the beach began to thin out and the trees of the woods began to meet the water. There was a rock that jutted out into the water from the shore, and I walked down it and took off my shoes, sat on the edge and dipped my feet in.

  This is where Dillard kissed me for the fourth time. I remember it pretty clearly. We went to dinner first and then walked along the beach until we had found this rock. There was barely enough room for the both of us at the end, but we made do. He pushed my wayward bangs away from my face.

  “You are so beautiful,” he had said, and leaned toward me. I felt his lips brush mine, and then I felt hungry, like I needed to kiss him. I felt his hand on my neck and I pushed into it, returning his kiss. A few minutes later he said, “Heaven…”

  “Mmm hmm?” I breathed.

  He leaned his lips to my ear. “I’m so happy I found you.”

  It didn’t seem fair to him to revisit this memory. I couldn’t make him as happy as I had wanted to. And as much as I wanted to forget about Cadence and move on and be happy, she was all I could think about.

  Her, and my mother. It never really hit me until then how much Cadence was like my mom, and that it felt like I had lost them both. I couldn’t reconcile with the fact that I could never see either one of them again. And if I couldn’t have them with me, I didn’t want to be happy. I know, it sounds selfish. But it was all I could feel. Just one emotion at a time for me. And it meant I had to hurt Dillard in the process, but I think hurting him only made me hurt more. Sometimes I wish my parents hadn’t named me Heaven. I can’t live up to the hype.

  “Hey,” I heard behind me. I turned around to see Liberty Bell approaching quickly, stumbling over the rocks and between trees.

  “Hey,” I replied. “How did you find me?”

  She shrugged. “I came looking for you at home, Marlene used that weird app that tells her where your phone is.”

  I laughed. “I knew I’d regret letting her add me to that. Now she can stalk me.”

  She smiled. “Probably for the best.” She came to sit beside me. “I found you, after all.”

  We sat in silence for a minute. “So, who’s the old guy at your house?”

  I laughed again. It felt good to laugh. “My grandpa, I guess. He’s been in Mexico for a long time. Marlene kinda hates him, but she also doesn’t, I think, because he’s her dad.”

  “I can understand that,” she smiled. “So what’s up? Why are we brooding by the lake?”

  I sighed. “Cadence wanted me to take guardianship of Bliss when she died, but I don’t know if I can do it. It’s a big responsibility.”

  She nodded. “It is. What about that Mar
k guy though? Can’t he do it?”

  “I can’t just ask him to take Bliss. I don’t even want him to have her, you know, completely. I don’t mind if he wants to be there, but…”

  “Heaven, that’s your answer right there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I imagine you were going to finish that sentence with ‘but, I want her.’ Or some variation. Am I right?”

  I shrugged. I made an ‘I dunno’ noise.

  She laughed. “Look, you know me. You know I’m not one to advocate taking on a huge responsibility when you’re young, because you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. But, I mean, anyone with eyes can see the way you look at Bliss. You love her more than your love yourself. You are the only person that can take care of her and give her the love she deserves to be given.” She sighed. “I’m not saying to adopt her. I’m just saying, it’s a thought. She needs you as much as you need her.”

  I didn’t respond. She gave me a quick hug and got up to leave. “Text me when you’re ready.” I nod, and then she left me too.

  ✽✽✽

  I came home when it got dark. Marlene was “making” dinner in the kitchen (dishing Chinese take out onto paper plates), and Fernie watched TV in the living room. I approached Marlene, and she sighed. “He’s staying,” she said. “For now.”

  I joined Fernie on the couch. His long gray hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore dark Levi’s and a blue button up shirt. We heard the phone ring in the kitchen, and Marlene answered it. After a few minutes, we heard her gasp and mutter a soft, “Oh no.”

  She came into the living room. “Mrs. Masterson, down the street. She passed away today.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “She was sweet,” I added, even though I didn’t really know.

  “Her funeral is on Wednesday.” She sighed. “Three funerals in a year is three too many.” She walked away to continue fixing dinner, moving on.

  Like it was that easy.

  Fernie turned to me, eyes sad. “What does she mean?” he asked.

  “My sister passed away last week,” I replied. “This neighbor makes three. My parents, my sister, and the neighbor.”

  He seemed really kind. I’m sure there was a large part of the story I didn’t know about why he lived in Mexico for so long and only sent postcards to his daughter, but the Fernie now, the one sitting with me on the couch flipping through channels and pausing on every cooking channel before moving on, the one that looked at me with soft, sad eyes and squeaked, “Cadence?” This Fernie didn’t seem so bad.

  I nodded. “My parents gave her up-”

  “For adoption,” he finished. “I know. I was there.”

  “You were?” I asked. He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  I sat with him for a few moments, about 27 seconds actually, studying the side of his face while the television flashed lights up into his eyes and onto the jagged hook of his nose. His mustache sported some wayward crumbs. He looked tired, defeated.

  “When did you leave?” I asked him. I never used to be this brave when it came to asking people personal questions. Courage starts small, but it grows.

  “Leave?” he asked.

  “My mom and Marlene. When did you leave them?”

  He sighed. “It was just after you were born. Your grandmother had passed away before she ever got to meet you. I was very sad. I went home to see my own father, and never came back.”

  “Why not?”

  “At first, I had planned to come back, but then Marlene and Gabriela were so angry with me for leaving that I decided to stay longer. And the longer I stayed, the angrier they got, so I just kept staying until I forgot I ever wanted to come back at all.”

  “But you did,” I said. “You’re back now.”

  “That I am, mija. That I am.” He patted my leg. It seemed wrong in some way to hear him call me mija, a term I’d only heard my mother call me. But at the same time, it felt nice to hear the word again. She’d probably gotten it from him, after all.

  ✽✽✽

  I was getting ready for work the next day when I heard Marlene in her room, typing furiously. I stopped brushing my hair and came to her doorway. Her hair was up in its usual messy bun and her bright red glasses were perched at the tip of her nose, poised there like a question. Her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop.

  I wait until she started to slow, came to a pause, studying the words she’d just written with intense focus. “What are you writing about?” She’d mentioned she’d struck inspiration a while ago, but never said what about.

  She jumped a little, turning to stare at me. She blinked a couple of times before I came into her focus. She was having to draw herself away from the words, and I know that can be difficult.

  “Oh. Cadence, in a way.”

  “Cadence?” I croaked.

  She grinned. “Well, not really. It’s inspired by her. And by you.”

  I paused, waiting for her to explain, the question on my lips.

  She pulled her glasses up over her hair. “It’s about sisterhood.”

  “Oh.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “I can’t be sure, but… I think it’s pretty good.”

  “All of your stuff is good.”

  She laughed. “Yes, after several drafts and hours of editorial suggestions.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it. I always do,” I said.

  “I’ll let you read the first draft?” she offered.

  I nodded. “Gotta go to work now.”

  She mumbled a goodbye but she had already turned around and switched her focus back to the words. I know they can call you that way. It’s difficult to ignore how they beg.

  ✽✽✽

  The little girl was back today. I hadn’t seen her in weeks, but she was back, in the same blue chair with her long black hair in an elaborate braid at her side. The book in her lap was smaller this time, but just as thick. The green gel pen had been replaced with a glittery blue one, and she was furiously jotting down notes just as she always had.

  I approached her carefully. “Hey Annabeth,” I said as I took the plush red chair next to her blue one. The chairs were aesthetically placed exactly between the young adult fantasy section and the American history section, five feet exactly on either side of the little set up to the next bookcase.

  “Hey,” she said quickly, not even looking up.

  I paused for eight seconds before I asked her, “What do you take notes for, really? Why your future?”

  She continued writing, her eyes locked on the book. “I want to be prepared. I read a lot of books. I know bad stuff happens. I want to be ready when it does.” She looked up at me suddenly, her bright green eyes laced with a fire I recognized. “I wasn’t prepared before. Now I will be.”

  I sighed and sat back ungracefully into the comforting pillows of the chair. “You can’t prepare for life, Annabeth.”

  “I can try,” she demanded, turning back to her book. Her face was heavy and sad and I wondered what had transpired during those few weeks she hadn’t been back to the library.

  I bit my lip and tried not to cry. “You can try. But nothing can prepare you for what life throws at you. Even if you know it’s coming, trust me.”

  She glanced up angrily. She tossed the book to the table and sat back, her arms across her chest. “So what’s the point then?”

  Oops. I hadn’t meant to make her angry. I had to try to fix this. “I’m sorry, Annabeth. I just lost my sister to cancer. I knew that was coming for months and couldn’t prepare for it. I’m very bitter. I shouldn’t have tried to made you think that you can’t prepare for life. It’s just… sometimes life will ignore your preparations and do whatever the heck it wants.”

  Her face softened. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know. I… Well, how can you be ready for life if it’s gonna do what it wants anyway?”

  I sighed again. “Nothing can prepare you for hurt. But… having people around you that love you, friends and family, can s
often the blow. A little. It doesn’t seem like much, but it can really make a difference.”

  She looked down sadly. “Sometimes that’s the problem.” She looked up at me again, her bangs falling into her eyes. With a swift breath, she blew them away. “What was your name again?”

  “Heaven.”

  She laughed. “What are you, some kind of angel?”

  I grinned. That was a new one. “No. Just a friend. If you ever need one.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Heaven.”

  ✽✽✽

  It wasn’t too long after Cadence’s passing that they announced the news: Melonie was pregnant with Bobby’s baby. It’s not like we should have expected any less, they snuck away from company literally any chance they got. The surprising part was the Armstrong’s reaction. While I would have expected a small town Oklahoma family to be outraged at their son’s “promiscuity,” they were actually thrilled and excited, and threw Bobby and Melonie a celebratory party at their home.

  This party was a lot smaller than their usual ones. Only the closest people to the family. Melonie’s parents were there, they didn’t seem quite so happy to be there as the Armstrongs, but Melonie was 18 so I don’t think they had much say in the matter. I found out from Melonie later that they were pretty upset, but ready to support Melonie in whatever decision she made regarding the baby. She decided to keep it.

  They invited us, of course. Me, Marlene, Bliss and Fernie. Fernie and Marlene took up Marlene’s usual spot in the kitchen with the Armstrong parents, Marlene already pouring herself a glass of wine and Fernie accepting a beer that was offered to him.

  While prying eyes glanced away, Bobby snatched us a couple of cold ones too and we headed outside, me with a dozing Bliss in my arms, Liberty Bell, Bobby, and a beaming Melonie. It felt like we were missing a few people. To be honest, his parents probably would have given all of us (except for Melonie and Bliss) beers, but there’s just something so much sweeter about a stolen beer.

  We sat down in four of the six camping chairs placed around a dying bonfire, and Bobby stood up to grab some firewood to give the flames more fuel. “So……… What’s up with your grandpa?” Liberty Bell asked, beer perched near her lips.