“There’s someone here to see you,” Gia said, standing in the doorway to Claire’s bedroom.
“I don’t want to see anyone.”
“I know.”
Claire turned the volume up, just a few notches, on her TV show. Today, the marathon was of women who kill their in-laws. The channel she normally watched had an Everybody Loves Raymond marathon playing, a show Claire and Jack had always enjoyed—especially because of the twins in the show—but these days, she couldn’t bear to watch any show that involved a family.
Murder was a much safer bet.
“Why are you still standing there?” She could see Gia in her peripheral vision. The woman hadn’t moved an inch.
“You’re getting very bossy,” Gia said, not smiling. She’d been much more curt with Claire in the past few days—or was it weeks? It all blended together.
“Sorry,” Claire said, but she didn’t sound like she meant it. The breaking point for the current murderer had been when her mother-in-law had said her chicken pot pie tasted like pig slop. The nerve.
“I can’t tell them to go away. It’s Bill and Nancy.”
Speaking of in-laws you’d want to kill…
Claire clicked off the television and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.
“I know. I can’t believe they just stopped by, either,” Gia said.
“It’s not called ‘just stopping by’ when you live fourteen hours away.”
“Well, maybe if you’d returned any of their calls…” Gia said with a shrug.
“And say what? I’m sorry your son and your grandchildren are all dead and I’m still alive? Lucky me!” Claire rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her palms. She was exhausted. This whole doing-nothing- thing was really tiring.
“You have to come downstairs.”
“And what if I don’t?” Claire asked. It sounded more like a challenge than she’d intended.
“Then I’m going to tell them to come up here.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Just watch me,” Gia said defiantly. Her patience with Claire was running thin these days and it showed.
Claire pushed down the covers and got out of bed. “Fine,” she said as she tried to walk past Gia.
“I think you should put on some clothes.”
Claire looked down at herself. She was wearing one of Jack’s college T-shirts and another pair of his boxer shorts. These were a Christmas theme and said “I’ve Been Naughty” on the butt.
Without saying a word, Claire went back into the room and into her own closet. She pulled on a pair of jeans, but left Jack’s T-shirt in place.
“Better?” she said, as she walked back into the bedroom.
“Much. Be nice,” Gia hissed.
Claire acted like she didn’t hear Gia and went downstairs. She’d been down more regularly over the past week, ever since her forced shower, but not as often as she probably should. She noticed things looked a little dusty down here, and there was a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. Gia was a loving, wonderful and nurturing friend, but not much of a housekeeper. Claire remembered that from their days of rooming together in college.
Bill and Nancy were sitting side-by-side on the couch, as stiff as pokers. They were an attractive couple. Bill, like his son, was tall and, though not as muscular as in his youth, still stayed fit by swimming at the gym every day and refusing to ride in a golf cart when he played on Thursdays. “The day I need to ride is the day I need to quit,” he often said. Nancy gave off the image of being the stereotypical Southern lady. She still wore the beehive hairdo she’d sported in her youth and was never, ever seen in anything but a dress. Claire had always found that to be so weird. They weren’t the casual and comfortable sundresses Gia often wore. Nancy wore prim, church-style dresses. All the time. Who wore a church dress just to hang out at home or do the dishes or pull weeds in her garden? Nancy did, that’s who. If you were to first meet Nancy, you’d think she was as fragile and gentle as a bird. But, as time went by, Claire had come to realize the bird she’d first thought to be a robin was really a crow. Her voice was as annoying to Claire as incessant cawing. Nancy constantly had something to say and she always made sure you heard it.
Bill stood the moment he saw Claire enter the room. Nancy remained seated, which didn’t surprise Claire in the least. She was the type of person who felt others should come to her, not the reverse. The only time Claire had seen her in-laws since the accident was at the funeral. Nancy had fallen to the ground and wept uncontrollably. Claire, in such a state of shock, had found it impossible to cry. But she’d wanted to kick her mother-in-law. The funeral was about Jack and the kids. Not Nancy. The fact that Claire had lost her husband and children made no difference to Nancy. Nancy had lost her one and only child. That was much, much worse. Claire wasn’t sure how—since Claire had lost three children—but somehow it was. At least, in Nancy’s eyes and, to Nancy, her eyes were the only ones that mattered.
“Claire, Claire, dear. How are you? We’ve been so worried about you.” Bill rushed over to Claire and pulled her into a bear hug. Claire did her best to hug him back, though her body was weak from all of her recent inactivity. She’d always had a soft spot for Bill. He wasn’t much of a man, in her opinion. He never stood up to his wife, even to defend his own son when she would, on the rare occasion, get on Jack’s case. And, it was rare. Jack had walked on water and air and everything in between as far as Nancy was concerned. Bill was a mild-mannered man who, if Claire were to psychoanalyze him, she’d say he was a first-class enabler. He allowed Nancy to get away with all kinds of inappropriate behavior, toward her daughter-in-law and other people in their inner circle. Nancy was as sweet as cherry pie to perfect strangers, but as tart as a lime to her family members and a few old friends Claire felt kept Nancy around out of habit.
“I’m okay,” Claire said as Bill let her go. He smelled like Jack. The same mixture of cologne and pine. She wanted to both push him away and hug him tighter.
Claire’s eyes went to Nancy. The woman still sat perched at the edge of the couch, her legs tightly together, her hands folded in her lap, her lips pursed. Clearly, there would be no hug from her.
“Hi, Nancy,” Claire said, dutifully walking over to Jack’s mom and leaning down to peck her on her cheek. Despite the overabundance of flowery perfume she always wore, she smelled musty to Claire. Like the damp, stale smell that wafted into your nostrils the moment you opened the door to an antique store. Bill resumed his seat next to Nancy while Claire sat down in the big armchair next to the couch. Gia, who’d followed Claire down the stairs, pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, which was still in view, but far enough away to not be an active part of the conversation. Claire appreciated this. Gia knew all the sordid details of Claire’s relationship with her mother-in-law and, being the good friend she was, wasn’t about to leave Claire alone with her. Not yet, anyway. It was too soon.
They all sat in silence for a few moments. Awkwardness permeated the room.
“How’ve you been?” Bill asked, even though he’d already asked her the same question when she came down the stairs. Despite the fact she really liked Bill, it was truly the most stupid question he could ever ask her once, let alone twice.
“Okay,” she said again.
“Listen, Claire,” Nancy piped up. “We’re sorry to just stop over like this, but you know, you haven’t returned any of our calls.”
Claire nodded. She didn’t have anything to say to that. She knew Gia had spoken to them a few times, because Gia told her so, but she’d never asked Gia what was said during those conversations.
“The funeral home called us because they couldn’t get hold of you.”
Gia interrupted now. “They haven’t called the house.”
“Well, I imagine they called Claire’s cell phone. Have you been answering that, too?” Nancy snapped. She didn’t wait for Gia to respond. “Anyhow, they couldn’t reach you and so they called us to say someone needed to come in to select the headstones.”
Headstones? Claire hadn’t even thought about the fact someone had to select those—decide what was to be written on each one.
“We have an appointment in an hour,” Bill said gently. “We tried to call to tell you, in case you’d like to come, but …well, as we’ve said.”
Claire nodded. Headstones. Headstone made it seem so final. So real. So cold and hard.
When she pictured the heads of her babies, deep in slumber, she saw them surrounded by stuffed pandas and Winnie-the-Poohs and pillows that said, “Sweet Dreams.” Not a rigid piece of rock.
“I’m assuming you’ll want to go with us,” Nancy continued. “We’ll wait while you get dressed.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. No nonsense. Of course Claire would go with them. Why would she decline? After all, it was her family, was it not? Families pick out their loved ones’ headstones. They put things on them like “Loving Husband” and “Our Little Angel.”
But Claire hadn’t even completed the kids’ baby books yet. She couldn’t write “Sleep, my little ones, sleep” on a hard slab when she hadn’t yet handwritten “Luke’s first pair of shoes” next to the photo.
“Um…I can’t,” Claire said. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Nancy said, the last word rising like a whining child’s “But why can’t I go outside?”
“I…” Claire was at a loss for words. “I…” She looked over at Gia in desperation. Gia picked up on Claire’s cues and came to the rescue. Jumping up from her seat, she walked into the living room.
“I think Claire might not be ready for that.”
“We understand,” Bill said, his voice kind.
“We do not understand,” Nancy barked. “She must select the headstones.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” Claire said softly. “You’ll do a lovely job. I wouldn’t know what to put on them.”
“And you think I do?” Nancy snapped.
“I…” Claire knew she was stammering, but she didn’t know how to reply. She couldn’t go pick out her babies’ headstones. Could not. It wasn’t even an option. Her palms were clammy at the thought. Her heart was racing. A repetitive pounding began in her ears. She felt her limbs detach from her body as the panic began to rise.
“I lost a child, too, Claire. Not to mention my grandchildren. Sometimes I wonder if you remember that.”
“Of course she does,” Gia said soothingly.
“Claire hasn’t forgotten that,” Bill said to his wife, placing a hand gently on her knee. She promptly removed it.
“I don’t think she has. Has she once called to see how we’re doing?”
This woman was unbelievable.
“Are you kidding me?” Gia nearly screeched. A calm soul, Gia rarely lost her composure, but when she did…Claire didn’t like to be around.
Where were her meds? Claire had been trying to wean herself off the tranquilizers and painkillers the doctor had prescribed right after the accident. She’d always been the type of person who was extremely conscious of not getting hooked on any kind of medication. She didn’t even like to take too much Tylenol. But, heaven help her, she needed something right now.
The pounding grew louder and louder.
“Claire needs some time…”
“You have no right to…”
“I know better than you…”
“You’re not even family…”
The arguing grew distant until Claire could no longer make out the words. The world around her became a blur of slow-moving figures. Mouths opening and closing with exaggerated sluggishness. She thought she could hear Chariots of Fire playing as she watched her mother-in-law’s mouth move while her finger wagged at Gia.
Only this wasn’t a movie. And she couldn’t sit and watch any longer.
“Enough!” Claire yelled, jumping to her feet. She must’ve screamed it even louder than she thought because, instantly, the other three froze. All eyes were upon her.
“I’m sorry, Nancy, that you and Bill came all the way here today. I know it’s a long trip. But I will not be going with you to pick out headstones. If you feel you’re up to the task, then by all means, go over there and select them. I don’t care one bit what they say. Or, if you don’t want to do it, but instead, feel it’s my job, then you can just drive all the way home and one day, maybe, if and when I’m ready, I’ll go and select the stones for my husband and children. But I will not be bullied into doing something I’m not ready to do one second before I’m ready to do it.”
Nancy’s mouth was agape. Claire wanted to tell her to pick her jaw up off the ground. A ding of happiness sounded inside Claire’s head. She’d always wanted to make her mother-in-law speechless. She wished Jack was around to see the look on her face. He’d always wanted Claire to stand up to his mother. He’d be so proud of her now.
“So, if you don’t mind,” Claire said, regaining her composure. “I’m going back upstairs. I’m sure Gia will see you out.”
Claire turned and strode to the stairs. She hadn’t planned on looking back, but then, quickly, glanced over her shoulder. “It was good to see you, Bill.”
“You, too, Claire,” her father-in-law said sincerely.
She knew she’d receive an email from him later today, apologizing for his wife’s behavior. Claire had received too many of those emails to count over the years. Though she didn’t respect the way the man never stood up to his wife—at least, not in front of her and Jack—she did appreciate the fact he tried to smooth things over later. He loved Claire. She knew that. And he never wanted her to be hurt. It was just unfortunate he couldn’t prevent the hurt from happening in the first place. But, as Jack used to say, “What cha gonna do?”
Claire hurried up the stairs. She could hear Gia making it clear to Nancy and Bill it would be best if they’d leave—immediately. She wanted to jump back into bed and flip on her murder show. Or any other program that would take her mind off her current reality. But as she reached the top landing, her eyes wandered to the closed doors of her children’s rooms.
She hadn’t been in those rooms since the day she’d hurried her kids out of them and into the car. She knew Gia had gone in them when she’d come to pick out the kids’ clothes for the funeral but, except for that one time, the rooms had remained untouched and silent.
Since she and Gia had arrived home the day of the funeral, Claire had made a point of not even glancing at their doors. They contained such a multitude of memories. Claire wasn’t ready to open that Pandora’s box. At least, she hadn’t been.
But maybe today, she could. Hadn’t she just stood up to her mother-in-law? Maybe today was a day for other firsts.
Claire slowly made her way down the hallway and stopped at Luke’s door. “Do Not Enter,” the handwritten sign, secured with Scotch tape to the wood, screamed at her. Luke had carefully printed those words, with bursts of fire coming out of them, when he’d found his sisters chewing an entire pack of gum he’d bought with his own money.
Claire almost heeded the warning and then changed her mind. She turned the knob, which was still sticky from dirty hands, and opened the door. It was dark inside. Luke’s room was always dark. Unlike his sisters’ room, with its whole wall of windows, Luke’s room had only one tiny glass opening in the back corner and his ceiling lamp never seemed bright enough. Claire had been meaning to get him a floor lamp to add some light, but had never gotten around to it.
She flicked the switch to her left and the ceiling bulbs hummed as they lit. The room was as unkempt as she remembered. Legos all over the floor. The bed unmade. Star Wars posters, drawings, and souvenirs Luke had collected from every school event he’d ever attended hung from thumbtacks on the wall. She walked over to the hamper and removed the lid. Like Jack’s, it was full. She picked up the shirt that was crumpled on top. It smelled like Tide. That little bugger. Instead of putting away his clean clothes, as she’d no doubt asked of him, he’d put them all back in the hamper to be rewashed.
That’s one way to avoid putting your clothes away.
Such a trick would have irritated Claire to no end a few months ago. Now she had to smile at his ingenuity.
Still, she was sad the clothes smelled so clean and not like her little boy. She wanted to breathe Luke in again.
She laid the shirt back in the hamper and replaced the lid. She didn’t want to change anything in the room. She wanted it to remain exactly as it had been the last time her son was in it. She walked quietly to the bed and sat down on the end. She could feel the springs through her bottom. Why hadn’t she gotten Luke a better mattress? He’d never complained, but each time she’d lie with him, she’d think, This kid has the most uncomfortable bed in the whole house. Why had she waited to give him something better? Why did she put off so many things for tomorrow?
Why hadn’t she known tomorrow might never come?
She picked up his favorite stuffed bear, Lester, and held it to her chest. When Luke was little, Lester used to travel everywhere with them—to the grocery store, the bank, church, sleepovers at Gia’s house. Eventually, he’d graduated to simply a friend for bedtime.
Claire kissed the top of Lester’s head and placed him gently against the pillow. Then, thinking better of it, she laid him down and pulled the covers up to his chin, as she’d done to Luke two thousand times before.
She found herself wandering, next, into the twins’ room. As she pressed the door open, she was greeted by a burst of sunshine. The star mobile hanging from the ceiling glittered in the light. The matching vanities, at the end of each bed, were covered in lipstick and eye shadow stains—items the girls were not supposed to have, but somehow seemed to get their hands on anyway. The beds, as expected, were unkempt and their clean clothes, unlike Luke’s, were in piles at the ends of the beds.
At least these kids hadn’t tried to pull one over on her.
But what did it matter? Disobedient children? What she wouldn’t do to have them back—the scowls, the tempers and the stomping of feet as she told them to clean their rooms. In fact, if she had them back, she’d help them all clean their rooms. Why hadn’t she done that more often?
Keeping your rooms clean isn’t my responsibility.
She’s said that a hundred times. But, what had been her responsibility? Keeping them safe? She’d failed at that. Miserably. The least she could’ve done would’ve been to hang up Nike sweatshirts and tuck Elmo T-shirts into drawers.
Claire wanted to go lie down on one of the girls’ beds. She wanted to pick up their stuffed animals and hold them and cry for all the things she wished she’d done better as a mom and all the things she’d now never get to do with her girls. She used to joke with Jack that, like on The Brady Bunch, the girls would have a double wedding. Now she’d never get to see either one of them in a wedding gown. Never watch them grow into young women and see them float down the stairs in their prom dresses. She’d never buy another baseball bat or ballet slipper or school notebook. No more piano lessons or Girl Scout meetings or Sunday School musicals.
She hadn’t just lost her children. She’d lost her life.
And, without a life, what was the point of living? How was she going to spend the next sixty years without her family?
She didn’t think she could survive the next sixty minutes.
It was all too much for one person to handle. Too heavy a load to bear. She couldn’t possibly be expected to continue.
She was living in a hell worse than anything she’d ever imagined. Every mother fears the loss of a child to a miscarriage, an accident or an illness. Sometimes, when her babies were tiny, Claire would watch them sleep and feel such pain for the parents who’d lost a child to SIDS. She hadn’t been able to imagine anything worse than waking up to find your baby was gone.
That would be a complete nightmare.
Torture.
A man who loses his wife is a called a widower and a woman who loses her husband is now a widow. But what is someone who loses a child called?
There was no name for that.
And if there was no name for that, there was certainly no word for someone who’d lost everyone.
She no longer had an identity. She wasn’t a wife. She was no longer a mom. She’d stopped being a daughter years earlier. There wasn’t anything to call her. She wasn’t anything to anybody.
Claire had always found her identity in those she loved. She loved being Jack’s wife. Mrs. Matthews. She used to beam when the other kids at her children’s school would call out, “Hi, Ella’s mom!” Or Luke’s or Lily’s.
She used to be proud to be her parents’ daughter.
But now she belonged to no one.
That was insufferable. She wouldn’t live like that.
She couldn’t.
Her babies needed her. Jack was missing her.
She needed to be with them again.
Claire turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. There’d be no more nights alone. She wanted to be with her family. Needed to be with them. Why couldn’t other people see that?
She should’ve gotten back in that car, allowed herself to burn with it. Why had she let someone pull her away?
She hated herself for leaving them alone.
But no more. They wouldn’t be alone anymore. Mommy was coming. Mommy would be holding them soon. They’d be a family again. The way they were meant to be.
Forever.