A NEW CHAPTER. That’s what we’re calling it. Teagan has decided to get married in her backyard. My dad has even gone over to the house to supervise getting the backyard in order.
It’s just going to be the family. It hasn’t been that long since we lost Mom.
I understand that we need to move forward.
I understand that Mom would want this.
I even understand that it’s good for my dad on some level.
But I’m not ready for this.
Not even a little bit.
Teagan picked up her dress yesterday. I thought she would get something from that lady overseas, but she got something local. It’s pretty. It’s not particularly bridal. Not to me, anyway. It’s a suit more than a dress. It has an off the shoulder dress, very fitted, with a jacket that goes over it. It shows off her shoulders and collarbones, which is good. She has a nice neck. Simple sky-high heels. She’s got a little hat that matches with the netting stuff that you pull down instead of a veil.
Jessie is wearing a suit.
I’m wearing one of those mummy dresses. It looks like they wrapped a white-ish ace bandage around me. I don’t like it. My hip bones are sticking out, but everybody else says it’s perfect.
When you walk out Jessie and Teagan’s back door, there’s a beautiful arbor. We’re doing that in reverse. We’re covering up the back door and using the arbor as a backdrop for their vows. Then there will be refreshments out by the pool.
It will be just family. A couple of people from work.
I said that already, didn’t I?
I’m trying so hard to be happy for them.
I really am.
I even went online and bought a subliminal tape thing and listen to it at night while I try to sleep. It’s supposed to tell my brain that life is good and that I’m supposed to be enjoying it.
I just can’t.
I don’t feel good. Ever.
I don’t seem to find the fun. Ever.
I know I sound like an idiot. I get that. I really do. But there’s something fundamentally wrong, and I can’t get away from it.
A.J. has been so good to me.
Daddy has pointed that out. Several times.
He seems to be doing better than I am. He has decided to volunteer. He is driving some veterans around to appointments. He’s working part-time. Trying to keep busy.
Jordan has been a godsend. He goes over there regularly. Grandpa is helping him with some special project, and he is helping Grandpa heal.
If things don’t get better soon, I may go back into counseling. Not that I went that many times, but I need to do something. This just isn’t getting any better, and at some point in the not-too-distant future, this muck that I’m wallowing in is going to become my comfort zone. Then I’m screwed.
For now, I’m forcing myself to concentrate on the wedding. Period.
I made a playlist of music. At first, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but then I decided to just go with it. I took all the songs from the weekend that Jessie arranged for Teagan. I figured they must be her favorite songs, right?
We found a little gold horseshoe and sewed it into the hem of her dress. Morgan offered the one she used at her wedding, but Teagan wanted her own.
We printed out her vows — the same vows that Liam and Morgan used. They’re pretty traditional. I’m sure everyone in the family will have used them by the time we’re all married off.
I wonder if Sinead used those at the courthouse. At least Mom was at her wedding. That thought broke my heart in a new place.
I tried and tried and tried to think of a way to incorporate Mom into the wedding without setting everybody off, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. Everything I thought of had me in hysterics. I don’t want to do that to Teagan. It isn’t fair. This is her day, and she should enjoy it.
We had a surprise shower for Teagan. For five hours, we were the old O’Flynns. We laughed and had a great time. We were just winding everything down when Daddy showed up. He gave Teagan a hug, gave her all his best wishes, and then handed her a beautifully wrapped box. “Your mother bought this for you while we were in Ireland. I think now is the proper time that you have it.”
I lost my damn mind.
I was not alone.
When we calmed down enough for Teagan to open the box, there was a beautiful cut-crystal beer mug. It had been engraved.
Our Teagan.
Equal parts sport and beauty.
Love, Mom and Dad
It was perfect. Beer for the sporty side of Teagan. Cut crystal for the girly side. My mother knows her children.
After Daddy left, Sinead said only half kidding, “Why didn’t I get something like that for my wedding?”
Teagan’s response was instant and had a bit of a bite to it. “You had Mom!”
Sinead burst into tears.
Teagan went hysterical.
I went home.
I can’t deal with all the emotions. I’m so raw I feel like I’m never gonna heal.
I’m starting to get angry with myself.
Mom would not want me to be completely incapacitated.
We were smart enough to have the shower a few days before the wedding, which gave us all time to calm down again and get a few things done.
Jessie and the guys went out for a pub dinner and beers at the place right down the street from our apartment. They shot pool and that kind of stuff, but A.J. said that there weren’t all that many guys there, and it was kind of subdued.
The day before the wedding, Teagan showed up at my door. Unannounced and, really, uninvited. I used to love it when people would drop by. Not so much any more.
“We have a problem.”
“Now what?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to be okay. I’m still depressed. I can’t remember the last time I slept. My brain won’t work. My body is fighting with me. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you should go to the doctor.”
“What are they going to diagnose me with, Teagan? My mother died. I’m upset. That seems pretty normal to me.”
“I know you’re the family person, Cara. I know you’re taking this harder than anyone. Maybe even harder than Dad, but it’s time to get yourself back together. I’m beginning to worry about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m allowed to be depressed. What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Joy called this morning.”
“Okay. It’s good that she’s calling, right?”
“She thinks that Joynessa should be at the wedding.”
The look on Teagan’s face did it. I started to laugh. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I couldn’t stand up any more, and then I laughed some more.
“What’s so freaking funny?”
“Mom was right.”
“What?”
“Be careful what you wish for, Teagan. All you and Jessie have done for weeks is whine about how you want Joynessa to be a part of your lives. Your wedding is part of your life. An important part. Joy calls and offers you exactly what you say you want, and you bitch about it. There’s no pleasing you.”
“Mom said I’m impossible to please?”
“No. Mom said people always get what they ask for, but they’re just rarely careful to ask for what they want. I’m the one saying you’re impossible to please. You know what, Teagan? I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fix your problem. I don’t feel good. I can’t remember the last time I slept. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I’ll be at your wedding, and I promise to have a good time and all that, but today could you please just let me be?”
She pushed her way past me.
I thought about punching her, but a black eye at a wedding is a bad idea, and everyone would know that I’d gotten it from Teagan. Let’s be honest, in a fight between the two of us, I’m the one who’s gonna end up with the most injuries.
Unless I sneak up on her.
“Don’t even think about it, dingleberry.”
See?
“Teagan, what are you doing?”
“I’m fixing you some food.”
“Fixing?”
“Would you rather I cooked?”
“God, no.”
“Okay, then I’m fixing. Give me a minute. I’ll find something that I won’t kill you with.”
Ten minutes later, we were sitting at the table with a pot of tea between us and cinnamon rolls in the oven.
“You are going to eat at least three.”
“I can’t.”
“I swear to God, Cara. If you don’t eat three, I’m going to stuff them down your throat or take you to the hospital and make Troya give you an IV.”
“Troya is a good sister. She wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Troya would be happy to give you a nutritional supplement via suppository. Remember the report you messed up when she was in nursing school?”
“What?”
“Remember you came home with that goofy guy, Tony? You guys were messing around in the kitchen, and you knocked over a bottle of vanilla that Sinead was using to bake cookies, and it went all over Troya’s report. The teacher wouldn’t accept it the way it was, and she got a terrible grade for that class. She had to work her ass off to get back up to where she had to be.”
“I remember, but why do you?”
“It has been the topic of conversation from time to time.”
“What?”
“Never sleep alone in the same area as Troya.”
“Good to know.”
“Cara, I am trying to make you laugh.”
“I know. I’m just not in a very laughable mood right now.”
The timer buzzed, and Teagan took the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. She let them rest for a couple of minutes, put the icing on, and handed me the little container the icing comes in, but my nails were too long to scoop out the extra icing well.
“Damn, look at your nails.”
“I should whack them off.”
“It’s not like you to have such long nails.”
“I’ve been taking all kinds of vitamins and supplements. A.J. got them for me. He’s worried that I’m too skinny.
“I like him. I like that he is watching out for you.”
“Me, too.”
I couldn’t get rid of Teagan for hours, and believe me, I tried. She’s decided that she’s gonna fix me.
I’m not broken. I just have a broken heart.
We almost got into a fight at one point. She got mad at me and said that it was not a compliment to Mom for me to act this way. She said that Mom had lived her life as an example that positive is always the better choice. Forgive me for being an idiot, but I can’t find a single positive thing about some drunk bitch killing my mother.
When I said that to Teagan, she yelled at me.
Yelled.
I think her approach was meant to snap me out of it as much as vent her spleen — Mom’s phrase — but all it did was shut me down.
Please, God, just get me through the wedding in one piece, and then I will deal with whatever I have to deal with.
When A.J. got home, he found me sitting in the kitchen, rocking back and forth on a chair. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“What’s going on?”
“I just don’t feel well. Teagan made me eat all day, and it isn’t working for me. I feel like I should just throw up, and then I’d feel better, but I can’t throw up.”
“How about if you lay down? Maybe you can get a little sleep.”
“I tried. It isn’t working.”
“I’ll lay down with you. That might help.”
“I know I’m being a crazy person. I know that. I’m trying to be sane, and I promise I’ll be sane soon, but it just feels like the whole world is messed up right now. It’s more than just my mother’s death.”
Did I put the word “just” in front of the words “mother’s death”?
What the hell?
Then, when I realized that, I didn’t even cry.
I got up, went to the bathroom, ran myself a bath, didn’t even bother with the smelly good stuff, sat there in a daze until the water cooled, did a half-ass job of drying myself off, and went to bed.
I woke up at eleven eleven. It was so dark in the room. A.J. was beside me, and the moment I moved, he was wide-awake.
“You okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just feel wrong. My stomach hurts. My back hurts. I feel like I need to throw up, but like if I even sit up, I’m gonna pass out. Please, God, I can’t have the flu. Teagan’s wedding is the day after tomorrow. I can’t be sick. I can’t miss it. What am I gonna do?” I started to cry. It seems to be my go-to response for everything.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“For what?”
“To have you checked out.”
“But I’m not hospital sick. I’m just sick, sick.”
“But if we go to the hospital and it is the flu, maybe they can give you something that will make you okay in time for the wedding.”
“If they had a medicine that could get rid of the flu in forty-eight hours, don’t you think we’d know about it?”
“Maybe it’s a bug, not the flu.”
“Then it will work its way out.”
“Cara, I’m not going to argue about this. We’re going to the hospital. You can walk, or I’m going to carry you, but we’re going.”
Is it a sin against all of womankind that I liked that he just took over and pretty much forced me to do the right thing?
When we got to the emergency room, it made more sense. It seemed like half the people there had the same complaint that I had. There was a guy in the corner who was throwing up, which would normally make me throw up, but for some unexplained reason it didn’t.
Thank you, Mom.
I know I always said “thank you, God” before, but since my mom passed, I’ve switched that to “thank you, Mom,” and God is good with it.
I was just about to walk out the door when they finally called my name.
Back in my little cubicle, A.J. helped me change into a hospital gown and got a blanket from the nurse. All of the sudden, I was freezing.
They came in and asked a bazillion questions. A.J. explained that I had been having a hard time since my mother was killed unexpectedly by a drunk driver. My brain kind of flipped. If a drunk driver kills someone, is it ever expected?
While I was lost in that thought, the doctor left, and a nurse came in almost immediately. They did a bunch of tests. Had me stand up and sit down and do this and do that, but basically I was on autopilot.
They took some blood and a culture of my throat.
The nurse started an IV. He explained everything to A.J., but I was beyond caring at that point.
I laid back and watched the stuff drip into the tube that went into my hand.
I’m not sure what they put in there, but I really was feeling better. I fell asleep.
I’m not sure what time it was because the nurse’s head was blocking the view of the clock, but he was just checking on me any way. What woke me up was a fight in the cubicle next to mine.
From what I could understand, there was a kid that had run away from home and had taken some drugs, and the cops brought the kid into the emergency room. They called the parents, and the parents were none too happy about being called in the middle of the night to come and check on this problem child.
I couldn’t believe it.
If your kid had taken enough drugs that the cops brought him to the hospital, and the hospital tracked you down, wouldn’t your last concern be a lack of sleep?
Mom and I talked about that. One of the ladies that she met a long time ago had a teenaged son that was driving them nuts. Mom said that they had done everything right raising this kid, but that he was adopted and his biological parents were both drug addicts and had mental health issues, and that the older he got, the more he was like them. It was breaking her heart. From there, it just got worse. The kid was suspended all the time, and then he started getting violent at home. Drugs were suspected but not proven because they couldn’t get the kid to take a drug test, and the courts weren’t cooperating. Mom said this lady that had been the most gentle and loving mother you had ever thought of was turning into an angry and resentful person. When people that didn’t know the whole story saw her, they assumed the reason the kid was so messed up was that the mother was so angry and resentful. Chicken and egg situation, I guess.
A.J. positioned himself between them and me. I guess he figured a curtain wouldn’t stop them from coming on my side if they got into a physical fight, and it sounded like they might.
A few minutes later, they wheeled the kid out for tests, and I fell back asleep.
I had the strangest dream.
I was little. I was walking to school in my favorite dress. It was black and white and had bright colored flowers on it. It was a hand-me-down, but I loved it anyway because I was tall and my sister is short, so she was older when she wore it, and I felt so grown up.
Jeanie and I were walking, and I fell down.
I really hurt myself, which is weird because little girls fall down all the time and they aren’t really hurt.
My stomach hurt and my back hurt, and I started to cry.
I told Jeanie to go get my mom, that I needed my mom.
I woke up to a flurry of people in the room. I tried to open my eyes, but they weren’t working right. The bright lights kept them closed. I could feel people tugging at me.
All I heard was A.J.’s voice. He sounded panic-stricken. “What happens now?”
“Now we go to surgery.”
I was gone again.
I opened my eyes.
Different room.
A.J. was there.
His head was on the side of the bed. By my hip.
Everything hurt.
I tried to talk. It didn’t work.
When he raised his head, A.J. looked so sad.
It was three thirty-three when he told me that I’d lost our baby.
Our baby.
I didn’t even know.
Oh, sweet Jesus, please. I need my mom.