CHAPTER 47

Dee Dee pulled her black Mercedes into her long, cobblestone driveway and clicked a button on the dashboard to open one of the her three garage doors.

It had taken two years of working with one of Houston’s top architects to design this house exactly as she had envisioned. She wanted the feel of living in a villa in Italy, and her goal had been achieved. The stones lining the driveway all had been shipped from Venice. The hedges and lawn had been landscaped perfectly to replicate a house in Tuscany that Dee Dee had rented on one of her many travels. The antique fountains were always on, suggesting a peace and tranquility in a home environment that was anything but.

Dee Dee sat in her car with the engine idling, wondering—not for the first time—if she should close the garage door and end it all. But finally, she turned the engine off, putting off killing herself another day. When she walked into the house, hoping not to see Jonathan, she found the lights were dimmed and heard soft music playing in the background. “Jonathan!” Dee Dee yelled, looking around and seeing red rose petals strewn around the marble floor in the foyer. Who’s gonna clean up all these flowers? “Jonathan! Where are you?”

“In the dining room.”

Dee Dee placed her purse on the antique end table in the foyer, and went into the dining room. “What the—” she blurted, shocked to see Jonathan sitting at the head of their oak and mahogany inlaid dining table, his face lit with candles.

It looks like he fixed dinner…

“Why don’t you sit down?” Jonathan said, pointing to a chair next to him.

“I don’t want to. I’m going upstairs.”

Jonathan sighed heavily.

“Please, Dee Dee. I’m asking for you to please sit down.”

Dee Dee reluctantly sat next to her husband, her expression questioning his motives. I haven’t sat this close to him in years. I can smell his aftershave…

“What’s this all about, Jonathan?”

“I wanted us to have a nice meal together.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

“For you? Yes,” she replied.

Jonathan didn’t answer; he simply took the heavy lid off her plate to reveal one of her favorite dishes: crawfish etouffee.

“I made it extra spicy, just the way you like it,” he said softly, picking up his spoon to dig in.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to get to the point or I’m leaving,” Dee Dee said icily.

What does he want? Soft music? Rose petals? He can forget about sex; he blew any chance of that years ago.

“Fine, have it your way. We need to make some decisions about our marriage,” he said tonelessly.

“If this is about us getting a divorce…” Dee Dee started.

“This isn’t about getting a divorce…yet. It’s about how after all this time you think I killed Michael.”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“It was an accident.”

“You can control how much you drink.”

“I told you I only had a glass of wine with dinner!”

“You lying alcoholic!! You KNOW you had more than that!!” she screamed, her rage as hot and unforgiving as that day in the hospital, the day she learned her son was dead. At the direct hands of his father, as far as she was concerned—then and now.

“Then how come the breathalizer said I didn’t?”

“I don’t know. The alcohol had probably worked through your system by then.”

“You know, Dee Dee, I’m hurting, too. Not once after Michael died did you ask me how I felt about losing my son.”

“I don’t care about you and your feelings! Feeling sorry for you won’t bring him back. You need to admit that you were driving too fast…”

“It was raining! I tried to slow down, I didn’t see that other car…”

“Because you were drunk! You were speeding and you lost control of that car and you killed my son!” Dee Dee screamed.

Jonathan sat back in his chair.

“He would have graduated high school this year,” Dee Dee continued.

“I know,” Jonathan said sadly.

“He was going to Georgetown. Thought he could be a big basketball star.”

“I know.”

“Might have made it to the NBA.”

“I know.”

“What do you know? You don’t know anything, because you’re the reason he’s dead! You’re the reason I can’t hold him—” Dee Dee burst into tears, her sobs making her ache from pent up emotion. She held her arms around herself tightly, feeling cold and empty. Michael’s laugh, his smile, his glowing eyes…It wasn’t fair he was gone. She missed him so much. This wasn’t how her story was supposed to be. No parent should bury a child, it was inhuman, an unnatural way of the life cycle. He was supposed to be here, to hold her when she got old and too sick to hold herself. She had been cheated out of the life she was supposed to have, cheated out of everything.

“I know that I still love you.”

“What?”

“I love you, Dee Dee. I’ve never stopped loving you,” he said, looking at her. “All I’m asking for is another chance.”

She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. For three years she had locked up her emotions, not letting herself feel anything. No pain, no joy, and especially not love. Love had cost her son’s life. She felt her heart struggling to open like a flower trying to blossom with the sun’s morning light. She closed it, refusing to let his words sink in, refusing to let love take over any other emotion than the rage that had filled her heart for the past three years. I won’t let him, I can’t let him love me. I can’t feel that again, never again.

She lifted her head, her eyes still full with tears, and cast him a withering glance. “I have no chances in me to give.”

“Then I want a divorce.”

Dee Dee looked down at her crawfish etouffee. It’s probably cold by now.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you. Do whatever you want.”

“What about what you want?” he asked.

I want things back to the way they used to be when Michael was alive. He filled my life with so much joy and I can’t figure out to how to get it back.

“I don’t know what I want,” Dee Dee said, her mind swirling around memories of Michael.

She missed his kiss on her cheek on his way to school. At fifteen, he never felt he was too old to give his mama some sugar. His love for her was open and free, and she never had to beg for it, he knew just when to give her a hug or a kind word. She missed his laugh and open smile. She even missed their visits to the orthodontist to get his crooked teeth straight.

“Wait till these things come out, Mama, I’m gonna be the man!”

“Boy, shut up!” Dee Dee said, laughing at her son, his awkward, lanky limbs loping beside her. But she could tell he was on the way to becoming a man, and at the time, the thought scared her because he was growing up too fast. Now she would do anything to see years added to his life. To see him graduate from high school and then college. To dance with him on his wedding day. To see his eyes fill with tears as he held his firstborn child for the first time. But no more, her son was dead. His life was frozen and barren, locked in a place that wouldn’t let him live again.

Her son. Her dead son.

“I know what I want,” Jonathan said, putting his hand over Dee Dee’s. She didn’t pull away.

“I want you back, baby…”

“I’m not your baby,” Dee Dee said curtly.

“Still, I want you back. The old Dee Dee. The one who used to cry at those stupid long-distance commercials and would laugh herself silly watching old movies.”

Was that me? Did I ever live so carefree, with so much life? No, that couldn’t be…“That part of me is gone. It’s dead. I’m dead.”

“No! You’re not dead. You’re alive and we can work this out. It’s gonna be tough, but I know we can get through this.”

“I don’t know,” Dee Dee said, pulling her hand away.

“When did you become so cold? It’s like you won’t allow yourself to feel anything.”

Jonathan grabbed Dee Dee’s hand and placed it over his heart. He began to cry.

“Can you feel this?” he asked, his voice choking on his sobs. “Can you feel how much I love you, and how sorry I am?”

He dropped down to his knees and put his head in Dee Dee’s lap.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!“ he said, over and over again, his deep sobs tearing through his body. She could feel his warm tears on her black slacks.

Dee Dee sat still for a minute. And then she placed her hand on his head and began rubbing softly.

Remembering Michael’s favorite lullaby, Summertime, she found her voice and began singing it.

Summertime…

and the livin’

is eeeeasy

fish are jumpin’

and the cotton is hiiiigh

oh, your daddy’s riiiich

and your mama’s good looookin’

so hush little baby

don’t you cryyyyy…

Jonathan shifted and looked up at Dee Dee, his eyes red with tears.

“You still remember that song?” he asked.

Dee Dee nodded.

“I wanna, try Dee Dee. Please let’s try again.”

“Okay.”

Tentatively, Jonathan reached up and kissed her.

Dee Dee had forgotten the taste of his lips. They were so warm and tender. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in three years, she let her husband make her feel alive.