|
She sits by the window staring at the night, counting stars. She cries when one streaks through the sky, falling from its place.
“That star fell millions of years ago,” Tom had told her when they were dating. “It took that long for the light to reach earth.”
She knew Tom was smart, but couldn’t believe it would take millions of years. “So that star fell before the earth was here?”
“Possibly.”
She got that crampy feeling in her head, like always when her brain tried to expand and understand. Better to not think about some things.
Like crosses. Three marble crosses in the cemetery. Tom, Lila and Drew. Her family under the crosses instead of watching the sky.
Easter. No eggs dyed this year. No baskets filled with chocolate and little toys. Last year Tom had misled the kids, sending them to another room and then hiding the eggs in spots they’d already searched. She’d taped him, the Camcorder shaking and her laughter booming through the microphone. She can’t watch the video, but she doesn’t need to.
Santa, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy…all dead. Where were they when the car caught fire? Surely one of them could have sounded an alarm, told Tom to get out get out, grab the kids, throw them clear.
She can find no comfort, no healing from the desolation as she keeps her vigil by the window. Day into night, night into day. She marks the changes and records them in a journal for nobody.
There’s the McDonald’s bag thrown under the lilac bushes three weeks ago. She watched it turn gray in the rain, left it to disintegrate. Tom would have thrown it away and ranted about slobs.
On the first of April she thinks of Drew. Last year he’d played a trick, scribbling on the walls in indelible markers. He’d mistaken them for his washable ones.
“Oh Christ, I wish I hadn’t yelled at you sweetie,” she says, leaning her forehead against the window. A mistake, Drew didn’t know, he was only five. One coat of paint and the walls were fine, so why had she raised holy hell? Such a small thing, trivial.
She’s crying again, loud sobs that sound like laughs. “Bring them back,” she says to the stars. “Bring them back and they can draw on the walls and break Grandma’s dishes and track mud across my white carpet. They can have dogs and cats and mice. Anything they want. And Tom, I’ll love Tom like I should have…”
She squeezes her eyes shut and listens for Drew to come through the door shouting, “Mommy, we got perronis on the pizza!”
“It’s ‘pepperoni’,” Lila will say, ever the smarter older sister.
“Keep it up and I’ll eat all the pizza without you two,” Tom will say, his hand cupping the back of Drew’s head, ushering him toward the dining room.
One more falling star…she waits, after the next she’ll stop.
|
FEATURE STORY 
