Julia's Daughters

I had a bit of an epiphany last night, and this morning I’m still trying to work through it. I took the pipsqueak to the bakery to get fresh doughnuts to give Mom and Dad a little bit of time alone and now we’re walking back. Dad’s going back to Vegas today.

We’re not.

I haven’t totally worked my way through this whole mess. I can only deal with so many things at once and honestly, my parents’ marriage is more their problem than mine.

I looked up the word epiphany this morning on Caitlin’s iPad. I thought I knew what it meant, but I just wanted to check. It can mean the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, as represented by the Magi. But it can also mean a sudden insight into a reality, initiated by a commonplace occurrence. My epiphany wasn’t exactly sudden . . . but close.

Two days ago, when Mom and I went to the airport to pick up Dad, Mom almost merged us into a four-ton utility truck. If we’d collided, going at that speed, someone could have died, in our car or the other vehicle. It probably would have been one of us, considering the size of Mom’s Toyota versus the size of that truck.

She didn’t mean to do it.

It was raining and visibility wasn’t good and there was a lot of traffic. If she had hit that truck, I wouldn’t have blamed her. Not even if I were dead now, hanging out in my little sister’s bedroom, talking to her in the dark when she’s scared.

If Mom had killed me on that interstate, it would have been an accident.

And that’s all it was at the intersection two months ago.

I didn’t kill Caitlin on purpose. I made a mistake. A horrible, terrible mistake. But just a mistake.

So it’s only logical that I stop holding it against myself. Mom and Dad never blamed me. Izzy doesn’t blame me anymore. I need to let it go. The way I would want Caitlin to let it go if she had been the one driving that night.

I’m feeling a little shaky and I take a deep breath.

The idea of forgiving myself is overwhelming. I mean, I’ve spent the last two months of my life beating myself up twenty-four hours a day. Cutting myself up. I spent my every waking hour being angry at people at school, at Mom, at the whole world, but mostly at myself. But if I stop beating myself up over this, what am I going to do now? The Haley I was before Caitlin died is gone; there’s no doubt about that. Who am I going to be now?

I have a feeling there’s going to be no epiphany with that one.

“So . . . we’re not going back to Las Vegas at all?” Izzy asks me, bringing me back to the sidewalk and the hot coffee I’m carrying for Mom. She doesn’t sound upset.

I glance over at her. I can smell the warm doughnuts in the bag she’s carrying. She already ate one; there’s sugar on the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t know. Maybe to get our stuff. Do you want to say good-bye to your friends? To Nana?”

She thinks for a minute and then shrugs. “Not really. Nana didn’t like me that much. And I can FaceTime my friends.”

I smile to myself.

“And Dad’s really not coming back here? He’d rather stay with them than come with us?”

I exhale. “It’s way more complicated than that.”

When Mom and Dad sat us down last night and told us they were separating, Izzy bawled. And I got a little teary. But . . . I don’t think I can go back to that house and I don’t think I’m ready to be on my own, either. Hell, right now, I’m a high school dropout. I need Mom. And I need Izzy. And losing Dad . . . fallout. There has to be some, doesn’t there? And I don’t think this is the end of my relationship with Dad. We’ll figure things out, he and I.

I think Mom and Dad are making the right decision and I’m proud of Mom. I know this can’t have been easy for her. She was only a few months older than me when she met Dad. (I can’t imagine me, right now, being old enough to choose a lifelong mate. I had a hard enough time picking out doughnuts this morning.) But I think once we got to Maine, Mom realized that even though she left Vegas thinking our road trip was a way to save me, it ended up being about saving herself, too. I wouldn’t say so, but even though Mom wasn’t cutting herself with razor blades, I think she was as screwed up as I was.

Heavy stuff for a sunny April morning.

“You going to be okay living here with me and Mom?” I ask my little sister. “Because you can go to Vegas with Dad. Mom said so.”

She frowns. “It disappoints me that you’d say that. You’re my sister. You should know me better than that.”

I shrug. “When a family is splitting up, it’s important that children don’t feel they’re powerless.”

“Did you read that S on the Internet?” She licks sugar off her finger. “You’re an idiot.”

I laugh because while it may not be a nice thing to say to your sister, I know she doesn’t mean anything by it. And the fact that she’s speaking to me again is worth any derogatory remarks she can throw my way.

When we get back to Laney’s house, Mom and Dad are on the front porch, talking quietly. They both look sad . . . but not mad. It’s clear this was a mutual agreement and there was no question that Mom would keep Izzy, which is good because I think that will make things easier for Izzy. It wouldn’t be good for her to have her parents in some kind of crazy-ass custody battle like the kind some of my friends have gone through over the years.

I see Dad’s duffel bag at the bottom of the steps. He didn’t bring much with him; I don’t think he ever had any intention of staying with us long. I wonder if it hurts him too much to be with us, with Caitlin gone now. Kind of like me not being able to be in our house. I don’t get it because people are different than things, but I’m trying not to judge. I, of all people, ought to know that everyone deals with their pain in different ways. Even if I never cut myself again, I’ll probably carry that reminder for the rest of my life.

When Mom sees us, she comes down the steps. “I was beginning to wonder if you got lost.”

“We waited for a fresh batch. They had blueberry and the cinnamon crunch. We got a dozen.” Izzy holds up the bag.

I hand Mom her caramel latte and look up at Dad, who’s coming down the steps. “We’re not taking you to the airport?” I ask him. I keep my tone neutral. I’m trying to be mature about this whole thing, but there’s still a little part of me that’s disappointed in him, that he can’t be who we need him to be.

“I called a cab,” he says.

He looks sad. And his eyes are red. Mom’s obviously been crying, but I think maybe he has been too.

“I wish you could stay another day, Dad,” Izzy says. “There’s a show on Discovery tonight about how maybe aliens came from another solar system and built the pyramids.”

He puts one arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “The Egyptians built the pyramids, sweetie. We have records.”

“I know.” She sniffs. Her eyes are getting watery too. But she’s not crying. “But it’s fun to watch things together.”

“So maybe we can figure out how to FaceTime and watch shows together.”

She frowns. “With the time zone difference?”

“Quit being a naysayer. We’ll record the shows and watch them together.” He kisses her again, like he can’t get enough of her.

She looks to me. “What’s a naysayer?”

“What it sounds like, but I’ll explain it to you later,” I tell her, seeing the cab approach.

We all watch in silence as the cab pulls up in front of Laney’s house.

Dad grabs his duffel and Mom walks over to him and they say something I can’t hear. Then Dad kisses her on the cheek, which makes me tear up. I have the sudden thought that maybe we’re making a terrible mistake. That maybe we should just go back to Vegas with Dad and try harder. But looking at Mom’s face, I know that’s not an option now, at least for her. Which means it isn’t for me. My first inclination when Mom and Dad told us last night that they were separating, my first impulse was to blame myself. One more way I’ve screwed things up. But I know I’m not responsible for this. I don’t know if Caitlin hadn’t died, if they could stay together, but I know that marriages often don’t withstand this kind of tragedy.

Dad lets go of Mom and walks over and hugs Izzy again. Then he turns to me. I’m going to feel like an idiot if I start crying.

“Bye, Haley.” He puts his arm around me.

I turn around and throw both arms around him. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I whisper. “For everything.”

He squeezes me, his voice breaking. “I know.”

We all stand together in a huddle and watch Dad get into the cab. Izzy lifts her hand to him, the doughnuts still in her other hand.

I put my arm around her and whisper. “It’s going to be okay, Sizzy Izzy. We’re going to be okay.”