A Symphony of Cicadas (7 page)

“Darling
,
” she began
, but I interrupted.

“I am not your darling!”

The muscles on her face
twitched
with
the deep sorrow she was trying to control.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” I shouted at her
.
“This is all your fault
.
I’m stuck here in this forest, my
broken
body in some morgue by now, and I can’t even find my son
.
Where is he?  Where is Joey?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted
.
“He’s in his own reality
.
And he’s safe, I assure you
.
We all are
.
But you won’t see him until it’s time.”

“There’s no such thing as time!” I
shouted
.

“It’s complicated darl... Rachel,” she said.

I was overwhelmed with
rage
in an instant
.
I was angrier than I had ever been in my life
.
But even more than that, I longed to see John again, to be comforted by his presence and
to
make sure he was
okay.
The surrounding forest began to fade, the colors turning to muted tones behind Rose as they all began to evaporate.

“Don’t go,” she begged me,
her
fear and sadness sending another chill of anger through me
.
“Stay with me, Rachel!”  If she said anything else, I couldn’t hear it
.
Rose, the forest, the cicadas and the drizzling rain all disappeared into a cloud of emptiness, leaving me suspended in space before tearing me with a lurch into a new reality.

Six

“I
t was a love
ly
service,” my mother told my father
through her tears
, her hand resting on his arm. “They would have loved it.”

I stood near them,
hiding
behind the doorway of my parents’ kitchen even though they couldn’t see me
.
My father looked older than his
sixty-eight
years,
his eyes burning holes into
the ground while my mother, the eternal hostess, checked in with him before flitting around the
house
once more to meet everyone’s needs.

My parent’s home was not known for holding so many at one time. Now it was
brimming with
dozens of
people I had known at one point or another in my life
.
My son’s teacher sat on the couch, dabbing her eyes every now and then in between bites of a sandwich made
from
a croissant
.
A few of
Joey’s
classmates stood in the corner, looking out of place and uncomfortable in a room
filled with
grownups
and few other teenagers
. One girl sat bawling i
n a chair, her friend comforting her as best as she could
.
The boys, however,
kept solemn looks on their face.
They seemed
afraid to do more than just stand there in
silent and awkward observation
lest they end up like the crying girl
.
I had a feeling that Joey would have
been
amuse
d by
the whole scene.

A few of my regular customers
from the flower shop
chatted among each other, reaching out to my sister
from time to time
to offer their condolences or a memory they had of me
.
I listened
with
amusement
as a restaurant owner I
had
deemed difficult to work with described me to Sara as someone who understood the fine art of customer service and always went above and beyond to meet his needs.

“I still think you were a pain in the ass to work with,” I said
out loud
, amused at how my voice carried over the din of conversation and no one could hear me. “And your food sucked
,
too.”

Sara stayed silent for the most part, smiling
as if on cue
when someone would speak to her
.
B
ut
for the most part, she
kept
a quiet front
.
Her husband, Kevin,
s
at near
their two daughters on the couch
.
My eyes welled up as I watched the
young
girls eating from a shared plate of fruit, both wearing
the
special dresses Sara had chosen for them to wear to the wedding
.
Megan, the
older of the two at five years
old, wore the flower girl dress we had picked out months ago
.
The on
ly
thing setting it apart from that of a wedding dress was the baby blue sash she now had tied around the waist o
f the white gown
.
Her two
-
year
-
old sister, Li
ly
, wore a dress in the same color blue as Megan’s sash, splayed out over a pair of ruffled underpants
.
I would never get to hold them again, hear them giggle as they called me ‘Anchel
,
’ a name that stuck as a fami
ly
joke when Li
ly
dubbed that much easier to say than
‘
Aunt Rachel
.
’
I wouldn’t be there as an escape from their parents in their teenage years, to offer them advice when they felt no one understood.
I wiped away the tears
from my eyes, realizing that there were many firsts they would experience, and I was no longer going to be a part of any of them.

“Oh
,
Rachel,” Sara whispered
.
She was now across the room, sitting far away from everyone on a couch in the corner, hiding her head in her hands and trying to make herself invisible
.
“Why did this have to happen?  And why Joey?  He was so young
.
I just don’t get it.”

I wanted to comfort her, but felt so limited
.
I
tried to
put my arms around her, but was unable to get close to her body
.
A
n invisible barrier
seemed to exist
between us
that
repel
led
me
when I tried
to rest against her
.
So instead I sat as close to her as I could and tried to comfort her through my presence alone.

“How are you holding up?”  I took a sharp breath inwa
rd at the sound of John’s voice
.
I leapt up out of the way as John sat on the couch next to Sara.

The navy blue suit he wore hung a little loose around the edges, his face
appearing thin
under
several days’ worth of whiskers
.
The dark circles
around
his eyes on
ly
added to
his gaunt
appearance.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Sara said
.
She gave a swift wipe to her tears, summoning a smile as she patted his knee.
“You look terrible.”

“Thanks,”
John
replied
, offering a
wry
smile
before
looking down
.
He
raised his eyes for a moment to nod
across the room
at
Sam who was pretending to sleep on the couch amid all the conversation surrounding him
.
“It’s Sam I’m worried about
.
The day
the police came and brought
the
news, he broke down
.
I’d never seen him so vulnerable
.
But it’s like he turned off
his emotions as soon as
he
could
.
Ever since then, he’s been total
ly
stoic, no emotion at all
.
He moves around like nothing happened.”

“Give him time,” Sara advised him
.
“He’s always handled things much more internal
ly
than most
.
He’s probab
ly
processing everything in his own way.”

“I know
.
I’m trying to be more understanding
.
But it’s hard
.
I mean, they’re gone.” He paused for a moment and looked at the ceiling
.
His eyes filled with tears, mirrored in my own eyes as I watched him struggle for words
.
“They’re gone, and they’re not coming back
.
The house feels empty now, void of life
.
It’s as if everything died with them when they went down in that crash
.”
John wiped at his eyes, embarrass
ed
.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to cry.”

“I think everyone would understand,” Sara pointed out
.
Still, she got a Kleenex out of her purse and handed it to him. “Did you eat anything?” she asked him
.
He shook his head.

“No
.
I’m not hungry.”

“John, you need to eat something
.
Starving yourself isn’t going to bring her back
.
Let me get you
a plate of food, at least some of my mom’s quiche or something
.”
She didn’t wait for his rep
ly
, leaving him on the couch while she
went to
put together a plate of food for him
.
He wasn’t alone for long.

“How are you, John?”
Edna, my parents’ neighbor, took the liberty of seating herself
next to him on the couch
.
He looked up,
and did
a double take
when he saw her
.
Her dress
looked to be something straight out of the
1970s
, with
neon
pink and orange flowers against a
vivid
green and yellow background
.
Judging by the musty smell, it hadn’t seen the light of day since the
seventie
s either
.
Among the solemn hues
and
muted colors around her, the elder
ly
woman
stood
out
in her vivid dress
.
Even her wispy hair screamed for attention
;
more
lilac
than
gray
, it
fluffed out
like a purple dandelion
in a fruitless attempt to conceal its
sparse
growth
.

“I’m as well as can be expected, I guess,” John replied
. He looked
uncomfortable
,
and
shift
ed
on the cushion next to her
.
I
saw it was an
attempt to
restore some of the
personal space
she had invaded
, and noted that she confused
his movement
with an invitation to move closer to him.

“I remember Rachel as a little girl,” Edna
gushed
, waving her hands in the air to add emphasis
.
“She and her sister were always playing in the backyard, taking turns pushing each other on the swing
s
.
Whenever they’d see me in my own backyard tending to my garden, they’d beg me to let them come over and play with my kitties.”

I snorted a laugh before I could stop myself, covering my mouth as if anyone could hear me
.
I remembered
things a bit
different.

****

As children, Sara and I would often play in the yard
.
Edna, who had never had any visitors for as long as I remembered living there, would often come out when she saw us playing, telling us tales of her little cats she kept in the house
.
They weren’t allowed outside, so we were intrigued by the stories of these mysterious cats, letting our
imaginations paint a picture of their softness and playful nature.

The first time we were old enough to come over when she invited us in, we followed her through the gate and into her home
.
On the outside
,
the house looked like every other house in the neighborhood, with a porch that expanded from the front steps
and
potted
plants framing the entryway
.
But upon
entering the house
, the fresh air outside was
replaced
by an overwhelming stench
.
The flowery smell of air freshener fell short in its attempt to mask
the soiled
cat litter
.
The
reek
was on
ly
enhanced by the steady flow of hot air blowing from the heater vents, despite the warm spring day.

Older by two years, i
t was Sara who convinced me to forge on, taking my hand and pulling me forward
.
We entered a bright pink entryway, the walls a blinding hue of rose surroundi
ng a tile floor covered with fu
c
hs
ia throw rugs
.
It led to the rest of the house that shared the same
color
theme, layers of pink on pink that were so bright
they
made my head hurt.