| |
Kate watched the light traffic from the front passenger seat of her parents’ silver SUV, her dad next to her, driving. The ride home from the hospital was brief. She’d hoped for more time to prepare herself for the return to her empty house.
She turned to look at her mom sitting quietly in the back seat. She gave Kate a reassuring smile and nod, but it didn’t help. The lump in Kate’s throat grew as her dad turned the car up her driveway. She looked at her house, eerily silhouetted against the darkness, the lights still on from when she’d left in a frenzy a few hours earlier.
John pulled up the driveway and parked. Kate realized her SUV and Marco’s Mustang were still on Arcade—at the scene. Her dad turned to her. “Kate, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us for a few days?”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m happy to stay with you, dear,” said Louise.
Kate turned back to look at her. “I know, Mom. Thanks, but I need to be alone.”
Her mom reached her hand out and Kate stretched back to take it before letting it slip away. She opened her door and got out slowly, her wobbly legs reminding her how weak she felt. Her parents got out too and came around to her side, hands out. Kate stopped them.
“I’m fine. I can walk,” she said, sharper than she’d intended. She squeezed her eyes for a second and reached out to touch her mom’s shoulder. “Sorry. I—”
Her mom gently kissed each side of her face and whispered, “I know, honey. We’ll come in for a minute. Get you settled, check to make sure you have enough to eat, and be on our way.”
Kate nodded as she fought back burning tears. Her dad took her arm and they climbed the back steps together. He took his extra set of keys to her house and unlocked the back door. Kate followed him. She sucked in a breath and held it, as she saw Renzo’s sweatshirt hanging on the chair and Marco’s work shoes neatly on the mat next to the door. She touched her throat and looked around before setting her purse on the table.
Slowly, she blew out the air. “This is gonna’ be harder than I thought.”
Her parents stood there. Silent.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Kate?”
Would you mind calling Marco’s mother, Mary, in Brooklyn? I don’t think I’m up to it.”
“Of course. Give me her number. I’ll call her while you go upstairs and change.”
Kate dug in her purse for her phone and found Mary’s number.
Her dad kissed her cheek. “Maybe a nice bath would feel good. Do you want me to get it started for you?”
“That does sound good. But I can do that after you leave. I’ll go up and change. Be down in a bit.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said.
Kate walked through the living room. She felt numb as she slowly headed up the stairs.
At the top, she stopped at Renzo’s room. It took all her might not to flip on the light and walk in. She stayed near the doorway and gazed around. Her young son’s life was evident in every corner of his room. His bed was made, messy job as usual. The never-ending pile of dirty clothes on the floor near the closet, and his schoolwork, unfinished, on the old wooden desk, his chair neatly pushed in. Kate pressed her hand to her mouth holding in the cry, but that didn’t work. More tears burned her cheeks. She forced herself to continue down the hall to her bedroom.
She flipped on the light and stood near the door before moving to sit on the bed. She smoothed her hand across the bedspread, as she thought about her last conversation with Marco.
His shoes and gym clothes lay in a pile just inside their closet. She rustled through a mound of her own clothes and found a pair of sweatpants and a nightshirt. She dropped the shirt and picked up Marco’s t-shirt. She held it to her face. The scent of his cologne brought him to life. She put it on and went back downstairs to find her mother going through her cupboards calling out things to her dad, who was making a list.
Her mom’s voice sounded shaken, upset, as she turned to Kate. “How’s your headache? Is it feeling any better?”
“A little,” Kate lied. “Did you get a hold of Mary?”
Louise stopped going through the cupboards and nodded. “Yes. I—that was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. She insisted on talking to you, but I told her you weren’t up to it.”
Kate nodded. “Thanks for doing that. I’ll call her tomorrow. You can go now. I’ll be fine.”
John stepped in. “Come on, Louise. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“Now.” He handed Louise her coat and purse.
Kate’s knees felt ready to collapse beneath her, as she waited for her parents to gather their things. She couldn’t wait to be alone. Her mother walked to her and kissed her cheek, and her dad gave her a strong hug. He pulled back, gently touching her chin. “We’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart. Take that bath and try to get some rest.”
She nodded, but her quivering chin kept her from speaking.
Her parents left out the back door into the darkness, leaving Kate standing motionless near the table where she and her family had shared so many conversations and memories. She moaned as she realized they’d never sit there or anywhere for dinner again.
She left the kitchen and trudged back upstairs, her head pounding from the fall at the hospital. At the top of the stairs, she again paused at the door to Renzo’s room, but this time, she didn’t look in.
She walked into her bedroom and headed for the bathroom. Turning the bath water as hot as she could tolerate, she stripped down and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized the tired woman looking back at her. As she tied up her hair, she noticed something on her face. She leaned in to the mirror and saw a smear of dark blood near her ear. She used her tears to loosen it. Her sobs grew as she continued to wipe the blood long after it was gone.
She stepped into the tub. Her shoulders trembled and her stomach muscles contracted, as she drifted into the hot water. The sound from the faucet drowned her sobs. She shivered and cried, waiting for it to fill around her cold body. With the warmth, came the grief she’d been holding back all night. She sat motionless in the tub, crying off-and-on, allowing her sorrow to win its battle with fatigue.
The horrifying image of Marco and Renzo bleeding in her car was pressed into her mind no matter how hard she tried to will it away. She realized then, as she mourned, that she’d live with that memory etched as a permanent scar until the day she died.
After a while, her tears subsided and the water cooled, sending a shiver through her bones. She climbed out and dried off. She took something for her pounding head and climbed into their bed for the first time as a widow. She lay back and closed her eyes, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer. Her slumber was restless, the nightmare of the day’s events vivid in her dreams. It was the first of many more to come.
