It took a while to get onto the I-95 South. I had to concentrate in order to follow the signs west first, following a stretch of rural road leading away from the ocean. There were a few homes along the way; however, I paid no attention to them. There were no other cars around. For the first time in a long time, I felt alone and scared. No matter how mature I thought I was, I was still only 18, going on 19. However, I did feel much older. My short life was already very full.
When I finally reached the main highway, I was relieved but, by then, bored and restless. To entertain and to distract myself, I turned on the radio, but someone had placed a cassette into the media player. As the music started, I knew immediately René had made another surprise donation to my life. All the songs he compiled and their lyrics had some meaning to our lives together. He must have spent hours choosing those he thought would make me think of him. Little did he know that every one of my thoughts revolved around him.
There was one song, Walk Away René, a song written a while ago, a song by ‘The Left Bank’. I listened to it, over and over, and the words brought to me tears, many tears while I tried to make sense of the hidden meaning behind the lyrics. René must have understood in a way I could not.
At the end of the recorded playlist, he also left a voice recorded message for me.
“Enjoy the melodies, enjoy the lyrics, but think of only me.”
I loved the sound of his voice, it had always sounded so warm and inviting.
Needless to say, the drive down to Florida turned out be more pleasant than I anticipated. Having René’s spirit with me was all I had ever needed.
This trip, unlike the last one I made in the opposite direction, I did without haste. Even though I had an appointment to meet, I tried to stay alert and, thus, stopped several times to eat and even rest. The solo road trip reminded me of the first one René and I had taken together in the fall of 1979. Many things had changed from those hectic days when we ran away together.
We finally found the peace we were looking for, the love we deserved and the friends whom we have embraced.
With balance and harmony in my heart, I drove till I reached my destination, knowing that all was good with the world.
I called Maria from the last pit stop I took and she had the house ready for me upon my arrival. She had turned on the air conditioner and had even prepared a quick dish for my dinner meal. It appeared that the boys had not arrived, which was odd, because they had left much earlier than I. There was no message from them on the answering machine; however, many messages from Russell had clogged up the system. I didn’t bother with listening to them, I erased them all on mass. Just hearing his voice brought a bad taste to my mouth. I called the agent then and told her I would meet her later that evening.
Being back home in Larry’s house was a relief. The scents of both men were everywhere, and I enjoyed the reminders of them.
I decided to call Irma only after my appointment, that way I would have more information about my pending plans to share. The house was empty and unusually abandoned.
Miss Grant, the real estate agent, had set up the appointment in the house in question. I drove over to meet her there at 7, as planned.
I liked the outside of the property, small, not requiring much maintenance. Inside was just as nice, the living areas were adequate for my parents, who would be the main occupants. I had no intention of ever making it my permanent residence. The newly renovated house had all the equipment to make the lives of seniors comfortable and manageable. There was a ramp at the side entrance, which could, if necessary, be used for wheelchair access. It was the perfect choice. Miss Grant had prepared all the papers. The offer to purchase was handed to me; all that was needed was for me to sign. I promised her to bring her the signed papers the following day.
There was no one home still when I arrived back at the house. It was already dark outside and after checking the messages, I realized there were none. When I looked at my watch and saw the time, I refrained from calling Irma or my parents. Instead, I crawled into my bed, tired and lonely. It didn’t take me long before missing René made me move over to his bed. Snuggling with his pillow and blanket somehow made him seem closer to me. I did fall asleep, but the sleep was not peaceful. I awoke several times to look at the clock and there was some strange and unexplainable sensation in the bottom of my heart.
The sound of our sprinkler system roused my sleep. It was a custom in Southern Florida to water the grass early in the morning to give it a coat of moisture before the scorching sun could destroy it. It had replaced the alarm clocks, for it was set to start the daily job at 5 on the dot. I stayed in bed waiting for a decent time to make my phone calls.
At exactly 8 a.m. on June 26, 1980, the phone rang and Irma, who was on the line, gave me news that shattered my life, took away all my future plans and gave me my death sentence.
She was so distraught that her words did not make too much sense. I heard “Larry”, “René” and “accident”. The rest of the news came from the mouth of Fred who became, unwillingly, the stronger of the two.
“Fred, my God. What has happened?”
“Missy, I am so, so very sorry. They did everything they could. He is gone, René is gone,” I heard his voice tremble and then he gave the phone over to a doctor who was standing there, supporting him through the ordeal.
“Are you related to the deceased?” he asked me. Using that description of my lover, my friend, my brother and the person who was my life, put a certain finality to my world.
“Yes, I am,” I proclaimed.
“I am so sorry, we did all we could to save him,” he muttered but I did not hear or cared to hear his apology.
“Please pass the gentleman back to me,” I asked for Fred.
“Fred, try to tell me what happened, please.”
“They ran off the road over a ridge, the tractor rolled several times before it burst into flames. They were trapped until the ambulance and first responders arrived. By then, it was too late, Missy. They both died on impact. We are devastated, Missy, as you must be. Please come, we need you.”
Before I could internalize the severity of the situation and before realizing the travesty of the implications, I booked a flight to Hampton. I did not stop to call my parents, I did not stop to tell Maria of my sudden departure.
The tears did not come. My brain had not yet understood my pain, only my heart started to feel the emptiness. The shock of the unexpected news was still in charge, forbidding my body and mind to react in the way it was going to, eventually. The strength and the adrenaline kept me from collapsing. I got to Virginia, arrived at the hospital, but how? I can’t, remember now.
Fred was waiting for me.
“There is nothing left for us do here, Missy. Irma went home with our son. Gary came, Tom could not.”
“I want to see him, Fred. I must see René. How can I get closure otherwise? For all I know, there’s been a terrible mistake. They have the wrong two people.”
“No. No, Missy, I am afraid it was really them. The officers retrieved their IDs. The bodies are here too. I haven’t seen them either but Irma has. She collapsed when she saw them. Please, Missy, you shouldn’t. There isn’t much left to see. The fire, the fire was terrible. Remember him as he used to be. Trust me, sweetheart. Come, let’s go to Irma. She needs us. She needs you.”
“Fred.” I was speechless. No words came to my mouth. I stood there beside him, stunned, speechless and horrified.
I looked at him then and I saw his despondent expression, it took great willpower to offer him my support. I needed the same support. We walked out of the hospital, arm in arm, giving each other the crutch we both needed to move forward.
I offered to drive. I mustered up enough strength to take us home to Irma who had lost her brother and an adopted son.
The minute, however, when I saw Irma’s face, I broke down. All the bottled-up pain, sorrow, emptiness and disbelief got the better of me. I collapsed into her arms and the two of us clung to each other for comfort. Neither one of us had ever thought life would deprive us of our loved ones so abruptly and so soon.
For the next few days, until the renters arrived, we walked around under a grey cloud that kept us from thinking, talking or finding peace.
I retreated to my room where Larry had once slept, and I rearranged it trying to place my own personal touch to ease the reminders of him.
Luckily, the cottage where René and I last spent our days and nights together was already transformed to meet the new renters’ requests. I didn’t go near it.