"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep - it’s as simple and ordinary as that...There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we’ve ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still...we hope, more than anything, for more."
--Michael Cunningham, The Hours
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Mom, when did you know you loved Daddy? And Dad, when did you know you loved Mom?” I was fifteen the last time I attempted those questions. I had found the man of my dreams that morning in Zack, a beautiful transfer student from California. Mom smiled as she poured Dad, herself and I glasses of sun tea. Daddy looked up from his laptop at the table and peered over his glasses. I held up a hand as I followed her to the table.
“And please please please don’t answer I’m too young or that I’ll understand some other time because I’m old enough now. I know I am.”
Mom raised her eyebrows at me. “You think so?”
“Yes,” I answered eagerly.
She looked across at Dad. “What do you think?” she quizzed. My heart started beating a little faster - obviously this was going to be some serious scandal! Daddy looked skeptical.
“I don’t know...”
I quickly reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Daddy- Dad, please, I know I’m mature enough. I won’t tell the other girls, I promise,” I guaranteed as maturely as I possibly could. Daddy sighed and looked at Mom.
“OK.”
I held in a squeal as I focused on Mom. This was it! My sisters and I had battled with our parents over these questions for years and finally I was about to learn the answers - me! It was sure going to pay to be the oldest today! Mom’s blue eyes sparkled as she took a deep breath.
“I knew I loved your dad when I looked at him,” she said solemnly. I leaned closer.
“You mean love at first sight?”
She shook her head. “No, not at first sight. At first look.”
I sat back again and made a face. What the hell did that mean, and what was the difference? I turned to Dad. “What about you?”
“I knew I was in love with your mom when I discovered she was the first person that ever listened to me.” They were looking at each other now, both wearing soft smiles. I shook my head.
“That’s impossible, you guys are messing with me,” I declared, sitting back again and folding my arms.
“Why do you say that?” Daddy asked evenly.
“Because first of all, there’s no difference between first seeing someone and first looking at someone. Secondly, how could Mom have been the first person to listen to you? Aside from the bazillion fans that hung on every word you said, what about Grandpa and Grandma and all your family? And what about Uncle AJ and all the rest of the guys? You two met when you were 28, Dad, and Mom, you were 21. This doesn’t add up,” I stated flatly. Daddy shrugged.
“Well I’m sorry, that’s my answer.”
I looked to Mom beseechingly. “There’s gotta be more to it than that.” She shook her head, still smiling.
“Sorry.”
I rolled my eyes and got up from the table. “’K, well, thanks,” I muttered as I headed for the stairs.
“Marti?”
I poked my head back in, hoping they‘d changed their minds and were about to spill the scandal. “Yeah?”
“It will make sense one day, honey. I promise.” Mom nodded as she said it, looking serious. I just nodded back and tromped up the stairs, doubting that any answers that weird would ever fill the spaces long left blank.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Dad?”
Marti waited for her father to respond but got nothing. He was staring off into space again, not eating. Marti glanced at her younger sisters, twins Allison and Kiersten, both of whom frowned. Stephanie, their youngest sister, just sighed.
“You have to yell.”
“I’m not yelling. Dad?” Marti tried again gently. Nothing.
“Dad, wake up, Marti wants you,” Stephanie piped up, never looking at him. His head jerked in Marti’s direction and he blinked.
“I’m sorry, honey, what was that?” he asked distractedly. Marti put on a smile that she far from felt.
“I was just wondering if dinner was all right?”
He glanced down at his nearly full plate. “Sure, honey, it’s great. You girls did a great job.”
“Yeah, you obviously love it,” Stephanie muttered.
“Steph!” Kiersten cried, shocked. Stephanie shot her a look.
“Oh, what, like you weren’t thinking it?”
“Could you be a bigger bitch?” Allison sneered.
“Could you?” Stephanie shot back.
“Girls, please, stop. Dinner’s fine, I was just thinking,” their father stepped in. Silence washed over the table again. Marti was torn between wanting to put her head in her hands and cry and screaming until her throat was raw, at all of them. She did neither - she couldn’t. As the oldest it was her duty to be the solid rock upon which they could all depend. Besides, outbreaks like these were the norm since her mother had died a year ago of cancer. She cleared her throat and attempted to lighten the mood again.
“So, Dad, we hired a new secretary at work. She’s around your age, I think you’d like her,” she offered.
“Go for it, Daddy - you’re still great-looking. You’d have her swooning in no time,” Allison encouraged. Their father gave a half smile, still looking distracted.
“Really? Maybe I’ll have to stop by and take you to lunch sometime,” he replied. Without warning Stephanie stood.
“Where are you going?” Kiersten asked.
“To study,” came the short reply. The three remaining young women watched their sister retreat from the dining room and into the kitchen. Marti knew better than to attempt to convince her youngest sister to stay anymore. As the only one left at home with her father since her mother’s death, Stephanie had to see this apathy in their father day in and day out. Marti caught Kiersten looking down quickly, tears filling her big brown eyes. She always took it personally - she was the most sensitive of the four, without a doubt. Marti didn’t, knowing Steph, a mere 18, had no choice but to harden herself - Marti would probably have done the same, but at 26 she was out on her own, away from home in a way Stephanie couldn’t be and so not quite able to overlook it all. Or, maybe more like Allison, she was unwilling to accept that that was in fact their father, although she knew for a fact her denial wasn’t as deep as Allison’s. The twins, 23, were at opposite ends of the spectrum but were similar to Marti in that they too could leave and return o their homes. Everyone had adopted their own way of dealing with things - none very healthy. It was like they had all forgotten exactly how to live, or at least forgotten something important. The worst was their father. He was a shell of the man he had once been. His daughters had watched him slip further and further away in that year, and try as they might none of them could get him back. It had been even worse lately - their father was off in a cloud constantly, as if sure that should he remain in a daze long enough some relief would come.
The remaining four at the table ate in familiar, uncomfortable silence. Finally, what seemed like eons later Allison began clearing the table. Kiersten quickly rose to help her. Marti reached across the table and took her father’s hand.
“Daddy?” she said softly. He met her eyes.
“What, baby? You need money for bills?”
Marti’s eyes smarted despite herself. He’d confused her with one of the twins again. “No, Dad, I’m fine.”
“Right, right,” he covered quickly, shaking his head and laughing. “Sorry, Marti - that’s an insult for a hard-working girl like you. You’ll be making more money than I ever did one day.”
She shook her head too. “I doubt that. Do you need the twins and I to do anything while we’re here?” she asked. She always asked when she was there, even though he’d never said yes yet.
“No, babe, I’m fine. Just check on Steph? I know I upset her again...” He glanced off towards the kitchen, his brown eyes sad.
“I will, Dad, but don’t worry about it - Steph’ll be fine,” Marti assured him. Allison, passing behind their father, gave her a dubious look. Marti read her mind. Stephanie was fine. They were all fine. If they got any better they’d be dead. Marti started to rise when her father looked at her again.
“Actually, honey, there is something...”
* * * * * * * * * *
“Mom?”
Looking up quickly from the novel she’d been reading, my mom graced me with her beautiful smile. “Hey Kadey baby,” she greeted. I had to smile too - only Mom called me that. It had originally been K.D. - my initials - but Mom had taken to calling me Kadey as opposed to Kiersten long ago. “What’s up? Wait - you’ve got the notebook. Is it story time?”
“Not exactly,” I laughed. “I need your help with this part.”
“Ah, so you’re going to make me be ruthless. Gotcha. Come. Sit.” She patted the bed next to her and so I joined her. Mom was the only one that knew I wrote, except maybe Allison. I loved having her help me with whatever piece I was working on because she stopped being a mother then and truly became an editor. She had reviewed dozens upon dozens of stories, poems and mini plays by the time this session started when I was eighteen. Allison and I were days away from leaving for college and I was cramming in the last of my time with Mom.
She scanned the few pages I had written then sat back with a thoughtful look. “So yet again we’re meeting up with this sandy haired, blue eyed fellow,” she said. I nodded. “This is easily the sixth story we’ve see him in.”
“Eighth,” I corrected. Mom nodded.
“You’re right, eighth. You sure this isn’t based on anyone I know?” she teased. I shrugged nonchalantly.
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She whistled an old Backstreet Boys tune and I slapped at her.
“Stop!”
“I’m not saying anything,” she said airily, looking at the notebook again. “Brian’s a good-looking man for, what? Sixty?”
“Fifty-two!” I argued with another laugh.
“Ah ha, I knew it!” Mom cried.
“Sh, don’t, the other girls don’t know,” I told her, still giggling but trying to look desperate. She held up a hand.
“I won’t say another word about your crush on Brian Littrell,” she vowed in earnest.
“Mom!”
“Sorry.”
“Besides, it’s not supposed to be now, it’s supposed to be when he was younger,” I told her, imagining him as I had seen him in countless pictures.
“Right. Back when I had a crush on him.” I looked at her in shock. She blinked. “What? He was attractive. Don’t tell your father I said so.”
“Your secret’s safe,” I assured her. I thought we were ready to get to work but Mom set aside my notebook.
“Kadey, why am I the only one that knows you write?” It wasn’t at all what I had expected her to ask.
“I don’t know...I’m embarrassed. And I’m really bad.”
“You’re wonderful,” she said seriously. “You’re from a pure gene pool of writing - any flaws your father and I have were corrected with you.”
“But I still feel like I suck, Mom,” I said softly. She took my hand.
“That’s because you’re not comfortable with what you write. Your best pieces have always been the ones that have come from your heart. When you write what you know, Kadey, that’s when you write best.”
“I know, but...”
“No buts. Try it, you’ll see.” She smiled at me again. “The best thing I ever wrote was years and years ago, and you know why it was my best?” She held my hand to her heart. “Because it was from here. It was true. It was real. Remember that, always, OK?”
I nodded slowly. “OK.”
* * * * * * * * * *
But he trailed off. “Never mind.”
“No, Dad, what do you need?” she questioned eagerly.
“Well...I’ve been looking for something of your mother’s that I haven’t been able to find,” he began slowly. “I looked through our room and the storage room but I haven’t found it yet.”
“What is it you’re looking for?” Kiersten asked, taking a seat next to him. Allison stood in the doorway expectantly. This was the biggest thing that had happened to them in a long time.
“Some papers. Some of your mom’s writings...something I think she wrote at least. I’m not sure.”
“You want us to look for something you think Mom wrote?” Allison repeated slowly.
“OK,” Marti agreed quickly, standing again and starting for upstairs.
“But-” But Marti snagged Allison’s arm before she could say more. Kiersten was hot on their heels. “Marti,” she hissed as she was pulled upstairs, “we’re just going to stat looking for something that may or may not exist...don’t you think we need to know a little more?”
“No,” Marti replied as they reached the top step, “but I do think that if we would’ve kept questioning him he would’ve shut off.”
“Good point,” Kiersten sounded from behind. They stood there, then, at the top of the stairs.
“All right, fine,” Allison conceded. “Where do we start?” Marti thought a moment.
“The playroom?” All three looked over to see Stephanie peeking out of her room.
“The playroom?” the twins said in unison. Marti shrugged.
“Why not?” With a shrug they agreed and trooped off towards the room that had served as both a nursery and a playroom to all four of the girls. Marti hung back and put her arm around Stephanie. “You OK?” she whispered. Steph smiled wryly.
“Any better and I’d be dead,” she whispered back. Marti laughed softly and the pair walked together into the playroom.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Allison?”
“Go away,” I cried, the sound muffled by the pillow my face was buried in. My mother - as usual - ignored me, walked in and took a seat on my bed, resting her hand on my back softly.
“Honey, come down and talk to your father,” she said soothingly.
“No, he’s an asshole!”
“Don’t say that,” she sighed. I turned onto my side and glared at her.
“Why? That’s what he is - an asshole!” My voice rose at the end, for the benefit of Dad, who had remained downstairs.
“Allison, your father is not an asshole.”
“Fine. Uncaring bastard.”
“That’s enough,” she said sternly, then sighed again. “Your father just sees this from a different perspective.”
“I’m 19, almost 20, I’m an adult and Josh and I are in love...and we’re getting married, with or without his blessing! Why can’t he just support me?”
“Allison, when have you ever known Dad to not support you?” I was about to rage on the situation at hand again but my mom rested a hand of warning on my arm. “Aside from this. Never.”
“Then why can’t he back me on this, Mom? He’s not even trying to see things my way!”
“Let she who is sinless cast the first stone. In all your ranting and raving have you stopped to think where he’s coming from? Look at the four people your father spent the most time with when he was your age, and for ten years after that. Three divorces between them, Ally, and one never married. He’s seen the ones he loves get hurt time and again in this game and it hurt him every time too. He couldn’t stand to see that happen to one of his girls and neither could I. Plus you know Dad never got the opportunity to get more than two years of school in, with the group. You’re so smart with so much potential and he doesn’t want to see you waste it.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Understanding is a two-way street.”
I wiped at my eyes, feeling slightly calmer...and a bit humbler too. “I never thought about it like that,” I admitted. Mom smiled gently.
“I know. Can we try the scene downstairs again?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” I hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The twins were already standing in front of the closet, packed full with boxes and crates. “Jesus,” Marti muttered.
“Should we just start opening boxes?” Kiersten wondered.
“Might as well. There’re four of us, so maybe it won’t take as long as we think.” Marti knew she was being optimistic - they’d be lucky if they got through even half of the boxes that night. But they were all extremely motivated, that was easy to see. Each of them staked out a spot on the floor and was diving into the boxes with zest. Steph had found a crate full of the girls’ awards and trophies through the years. Kiersten had found memorabilia of their father’s and was poring over old photo albums. Allison’s box was a portion of their immense Barbie collection and Marti discovered more photo albums.
“Why is all of this in here?” Stephanie asked.
“What do you mean?” questioned Allison as she danced a Barbie around, grinning.
“It seems like some of this should be in the storage room, or at least in Mom and Dad’s room.”
“Mom was never good at organizing, just keeping stuff,” Marti reminded them. The hours flew by as the four became lost in memories, laughing and reminiscing. Marti paused a moment to watch Steph and Allison flipping through a scrapbook together, giggling and poking fun at their father and his groupmates. Kiersten joined them from time to time, attempting to defend Brian (whom they all knew she had a soft spot for), and earning a few jokes at her expense too. Marti smiled softly, feeling happy tears well in her eyes. They had needed this. She only wished her father had joined the search. Surely he needed this too. Thinking of him drove Marti back to work, reminding the rest of them gently that they were on a mission. Finally in the wee hours of the morning Allison yawned and sat back.
“Marti, I think we better call it a night,” she said quietly. Stephanie had fallen asleep over a photo album and Kiersten’s eyes were nearly shut too.
“I’m never going to make it at work tomorrow morning,” she mumbled. Marti yawned too.
“I’m never going to make it home. Good thing I called Josh, he’d be dead of worry.”
“You guys go ahead if you want. Let me just check one last box,” Marti agreed.
“I’m not ready to move yet,” Allison said, yawning again. Marti pulled out a box that had been shoved far in the corner of the closet and pried the lid off. She looked down on a pile of printed sheets.
“What is it?” Kiersten asked.
“It’s...” Marti scanned the first page quickly. “It’s Mom’s stories - Mom’s Backstreet Boys stories!” The girls had all read their mother’s fan fiction when they were younger but had never seen it since.
“Do you think what Dad wants could be in there?” Allison asked, now much more awake and coming to join Marti. Kiersten followed suit.
“I don’t know. These we’ve all read before,” Marti reported as she scanned them, then lifted them carefully from the box.
“Has Dad?”
“I don’t know, I think so, but I’m not sure...” She trailed off, reaching the bottom where a lone envelope lay. In it was a single diskette. With a trembling hand Marti took it out too and held it up. Kiersten’s and Allison’s jaws dropped in unison. “This is it,” Marti whispered. “It has to be.”
“Should we look at it or just give it to Daddy?” Kiersten whispered back. Marti considered it.
“Let’s go,” she ruled, standing. “Get Steph too.” Allison roused Stephanie quickly, and Marti’s younger sisters followed her out of the room and down the hall to their father’s office. She switched the computer on immediately. It seemed a lifetime til it was booted fully, but as soon as it was Marti popped in the disk. Opening the disk revealed two files - one labeled “Our Story”, the other “For Howard”. It seemed they all gasped unanimously. This was it. Marti looked back at her sisters, her heart pounding. “Well, who’d’ve thunk, huh?” she joked weakly.
“Open it, Marti,” Stephanie murmured. “Just the first one.”
So, Marti did.
* * * * * * * * * *
She waited for him. Each of the others came out, causing everyone else waiting there to swoon and gush, then chatter and giggle once they had disappeared again. She smiled, hugged them, snapped photos, but waited for him. She knew no one else was waiting for him, which made her anticipation all the greater.
His emergence from behind the curtain almost went unnoticed - in fact, she suspected that she was the only one who had really been watching for it to happen. He made his way down the line slowly. He smiled a little wider than the others had. He talked a little more than they had. Hugged a little longer. Offered to be in more pictures. His efforts, though, were met with basest appreciation. They were already satisfied. They had seen the others, gotten what they had come for. She saw the hope in his eyes, the hope that he would elicit the same excitement as the others had, even in just one of them. She also saw the flash of disappointment - quicker than a heartbeat - that washed across his face each time he didn’t. No, he could try as hard as he wanted. The hearts connected to the hands were already claimed, and nothing he did changed that. Ever. It was an old frustration, but still sharp with each failure. It was breaking her heart.
Finally he reached her. The last in line. She wanted to embrace him, scream for him, faint, anything to make up for his tepid reception by the rest of them, but found that she couldn’t. She shook his hand, took a picture, watched his sculpted hand as he signed her CD. As he wrote he asked where she lived, if she was excited for the show. She answered quietly, inside distraught that she wasn’t doing something. He handed her CD back with a smile, but before he turned to go their eyes locked for an instant. In that heartbeat she saw it all again, the failure revisited with her. It leaked into her eyes, seeped into her veins and surrounded her heart. She tried to smile for him to relieve it, to lessen that pain, but she knew her smile had made no difference as he walked away, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He had been smiled at before. He said a quiet hello to the bodyguard that held the door for him, then disappeared. No one watched his exit. No one except her.
Maybe there was a moment that she thought about it. Maybe some far corner of her brain weighed the risks, the odds, the consequences. Maybe, but later she would never remember that instant. She strode toward the door. She didn’t rush, didn’t attempt to make eye contact with anyone. Her step never faltered. Her confidence never wavered. Maybe that was why no one thought to stop her. Maybe.
She continued. Through the door. Into the room. He stood off to the side, talking with one of the others, holding a bottle of water. His back was to her. She saw the other gesture to her, looking surprised. He turned to face her. Surprise filtered across his expression as well. She stepped up to him and put a hand to either side of his face. She smiled just slightly, then gently pressed her lips to his.
The kiss wasn’t forceful, but it was firm. Meant. His lips were warm yet still, held that way by shock. She stepped even closer, so their fronts were now together. Her hands stole behind his head. She poured her whole heart into her lips and hands, willing her emotion into him.
I know you thought no one was here to see you, but I am.
He felt that thought. Not the actual words, but the sentiment behind it. The purity.
I was happy to see you.
The truth. She felt him respond a little.
You were?
Of course. And I’m sorry, that I couldn’t show that out there.
You came back here just for me?
Yes...why are you so surprised?
His arms were around her now.
No one’s ever done anything like this for me.
I know. It’s in your eyes.
A tear slipped from his eye as he held her. His sadness was that evident?
It’s not just that, it’s...there’s so much...
Tell me.
And he did. Somehow, without ever saying a word he told her of his pain, of his self-doubt, of everything. And she understood. Everyone in the room turned to watch. No one said a word, no one made a move to disrupt what was perhaps the purest thing they had ever witnessed. The two held on to each other for dear life, and tears spilled from both their eyes as they shared all that they were, in just one kiss. Finally, two lifetimes later, they parted. He smiled at her, taking both her hands, and she returned the gesture.
“Hello,” he whispered. She laughed softly, never turning from his gaze.
“Hello.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Nothing was said for a long time after they finished reading the story. Tears streamed down all four faces. Finally Marti turned around and faced her sisters.
“Doesn’t it seem like...like everything...?” she began, but could not finish. The other three nodded, wiping at eyes and sniffling. It was not like any other story because they all knew that this one was true. It did not need to be said that everything that their mother had ever taught them, said to them...their whole lives made more sense somehow now. They embraced, laughing and crying together.
When they managed to part Marti took the disk from the computer. The twins and Stephanie headed off to their cars and to bed while Marti stole off to her parents’ room. Her father was fast asleep far to one side of the bed, almost as if he was still leaving room for her mother. Marti set the disk on the nightstand, then leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek.
“Goodnight Daddy,” she whispered, then tiptoed back out and down the stairs.
* * * * * * * * * *
I remember so many things about my mother - probably more than my older sisters ever think I would. She was a loving, caring person all her life. She taught my sisters and me many life lessons, but the one that I will always hold dearest she taught me a year after she died.
My father waited days before he looked at the disk we found in the playroom when I was 18. I think he was scared of what it actually contained, afraid that the words he would read might somehow forever keep him in his state of grief and mourning. I watched him secretly from the doorway the afternoon he finally got up the nerve.
First he read the story. I have never seen someone so moved before or since. He cried for a long time, as did I as I watching him. He had loved her so deeply. I almost went in to comfort him, but I waited. When his tears had subsided some, he opened the other file. Later that night I read it myself, just to help me understand what had come later, and I’ve read it many times since - so many that I could almost recite the short letter by heart.
“Howard,
Soon we leave for another trip to the hospital. I know that my doctors say I am getting better, but in the deepest part of my heart I know that is this the last time I’ll be home. If I return, no one will ever know I wrote this...but if I don’t make it home again, as I fear will be the case, you will find this eventually. I only pray that you or the girls will know where to look. No doubt God lead you to this when you need it.
Baby, never forget I loved you, and I’ll always be somewhere close by loving you still. Please make sure my girls - our girls - remember me, for I hold them in my heart always. After I’m gone don’t shut them out of your grief or let them shut you out of theirs...but do not grieve for long. We had many happy hours together - all of us, you and me - but go on having happy hours after I leave you. After all, that is all we have are the minutes, the hours...even if they “seem so clearly to promise more”.
I love you always and forever,
Me.”
My father cried again after he read that. I didn’t watch him that time, just retreated to my room. His tears then were private, although not for long. Shortly after, he stood at my door.
“Steph?”
I was surprised. “Yes Dad?”
“May I come in?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
He walked in slowly, taking a seat near me on the bed. His face was still tear-stained, his eyes red, but he made no show to hide it. “Steph, I’m so sorry.”
I took his hand. “For what, Daddy?” It was a gentler tone than I had had with him in a long time.
He squeezed my hand, first looking away then directly at me. “For leaving you alone. Your mother had to leave - she had no choice - but I’ve been so selfish...I’ve forgotten so much that your mother taught me, Steph, and I’ve left you alone here...” His tears began to fall, as did mine.
“Oh Daddy...”
But he shook his head. “I forgot that all we have is here, and now...I’m so sorry, Stephanie...” He took me in his arms and we cried together - for Mom, for him, for I, for all of us. We’d all forgotten that - that that’s what all those life lessons boiled down to. We sat together crying for a long time that afternoon. It was as if it had all happened yesterday, the grief was so fresh...
...but in that minute, in that hour, we started living again.
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