Cracks in the Sidewalk (27 page)

Charlie shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

~ ~ ~

B
y three o’clock Saturday afternoon the thunder and lightning moved on, and the rain slowed to an intermittent drizzle. Charlie loaded Elizabeth and her wheelchair into the car and off they went.

“You make sure she doesn’t catch a cold,” Claire warned, even though she knew that was beyond her husband’s control.

Inside the toy store it seemed as if every child in town had arrived with their weary mothers hoping to entertain them on a too-rainy-to-play-outside afternoon.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Liz murmured as she rolled past a group of boys eyeing a rack of baseball mitts. She hesitated, wondering if perhaps that was what she should buy for David. After a few moments of watching the boys she moved on. Maybe next year, she thought. If there was a next year.

Two rows back a dozen little girls clustered around the Suzie Homemaker display with its array of miniature brooms and toy-sized appliances. Watching a toddler cling to the harried mother trying to pull free caused Elizabeth’s heart to lurch. She remembered living that same scenario. All too often she’d rushed through those moments, anxious to move on to chores calling for her attention—chores that would always be there.
How absolutely foolish,
she thought.

The books and games display in the back of the store drew Elizabeth’s attention. She’d been there dozens of times before. She could picture David standing on tiptoes to reach for his first Robin Hood book and Kimmie—who would always be Kimmie, as far as she was concerned—sitting on the floor with a Three Little Pigs pop-up book. 

With Elizabeth revisiting special memories, the shopping expedition took almost a full two hours. The cumbersome wheelchair crowded the aisle so she moved slowly, taking time to ponder each item, holding things in her hand until she sensed they were perfect. A race car for David, a baby doll for Kimberly, a red ball sized to fit the hand of a baby. Piece by piece she gathered together a collection of storybooks and a gift for each of the children. When they left the store the rain had stopped. Elizabeth barely noticed; a sense of contentment missing for many long months filled her.

S
unday morning Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open when the first whisper of daylight shimmered across the bottom edge of the window shade. Just before waking she had floated in the gauzy space that surrounds a dream. In this one she’d seen Kimberly as a bride with an older, silver-haired Jeffrey beside her and her brothers close by. A young man stood at the altar with an aura of goodness about him. Elizabeth couldn’t see herself, but she could sense her presence.

Had it been any other day, Elizabeth would have gladly lingered in the sweetness of that imaginary world, but this day was wonderful beyond a dream. She would see her children again.

“Mother,” she called softly, “I’d like to get up.”

Claire had trained her ears to hear even the slightest whisper, so she woke without hesitation. “Okay.” 

Since the paralysis had worsened Elizabeth could no longer pull herself up without someone’s help. She’d tried on three separate occasions to reach for the metal walker next to her bed, and she’d fallen all three times. Now she had to call for help, or stay in bed forever. As she fought the physical cruelties of her illness, she thought of how it also robbed a person of their dignity and independence.

Elizabeth slid her arms into the new sweater she’d saved for this occasion. Once dressed, she sat at the vanity and smoothed a thin film of cream over the puffy contours of her face. A dusting of powder and a few strokes of a rose-colored blush to brighten her cheeks with an artificial look of health came next. Using only her right hand, she applied lipstick and then eased it back into its cap. The simplest of movements were arduous for Elizabeth.

Once finished she took hold of her walker, inched her way into the living room, and lowered herself onto the sofa to wait. It was barely seven-thirty.

She sat there, watching the grandfather clock slowly tick off the minutes, each one seemingly hanging in the air longer than its allotted sixty seconds. Eventually it was eight o’clock and then, after an excruciatingly long stretch, eight-thirty.

“Come, let’s have breakfast,” Claire said.

But Elizabeth wasn’t the least bit hungry.

“Skipping breakfast isn’t healthy,” Claire warned and turned toward the kitchen.

The clock ticked off another minute, then another and another. Before too many minutes had passed Claire came into the room carrying a tray with two mugs of coffee and a dish piled high with David’s favorite raisin cookies.

“You remembered,” Elizabeth said with her half smile.

“Well, of course,” Claire answered with an air of pretended indignation. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s missed those children?” She laughed and sat down. “Here, try one,” she said, handing Elizabeth a cookie. “I want to make certain they’re good enough for my grandchildren.”

As they talked the clock ticked minute after long minute until it struck nine. “They should be here any minute,” Elizabeth said.

But it wasn’t any minute—and not any of the next sixty minutes. The clock chimed ten loud gongs, then moved on. Elizabeth and her mother waited, neither of them mentioning the unthinkable.

“Could be he’s stuck in traffic,” Claire said.

“Or maybe an accident on the highway,” Elizabeth added.

“David can be hard to get moving in the morning.”

“And Kimmie takes forever to eat.”

Finally at seventeen minutes after the hour the doorbell dinged.

When Claire opened the door, David and Kimberly burst into the room with an explosion of energy. “Mommy, Mommy!” they shouted in unison. After climbing on Elizabeth and hugging her with such force she nearly toppled from the sofa, they showered Claire with the same level of affection. In all the excitement Elizabeth didn’t think to ask about Christian until after Jeffrey left.

Jeffrey had followed them in, but after a quick glance at Elizabeth he’d turned around and stepped outside. It was late October, and winter had already shown itself with icy cold rain and winds that tore the leaves from trees. He tugged his collar up around his neck, then sat down on the step and lit a cigarette.

Seeing Liz had taken him by surprise. She sat on the sofa and laughed like this was some kind of party. She looked almost
healthy.
He took a long drag of the cigarette.

It’s unfair,
he sulked.
She’s sitting there like the Queen of Sheba while I’m struggling to make ends meet.
He tossed the cigarette on the sidewalk, stomped it out, then lit another one.

~ ~ ~

F
or the first half-hour of their visit, both kids bubbled with questions. Was Mommy all better? When was she coming home? Did she have surprises for them? Could they have more cookies? Eventually, Elizabeth would have to tell them the truth about what was happening, but not today.

“Mommy’s still sick,” she said, “but the doctor is trying to make me better.”

“Daddy could give you medicine,” Kimberly volunteered. “When I was coughing, Daddy gave me medicine and I got better.”

Turning the thrust of conversation from herself, Elizabeth prompted, “Did you also have a sore throat?”

“Yes,” Kimberly nodded, “but it’s all better. See?” She stretched open her mouth.

“Daddy says you’ll never get better,” David said.

“Nobody but God knows that for certain,” Elizabeth answered. “Do you remember what I taught you about God?”

“Yeah. He lives up in heaven.”

“And what does He do in heaven?”

“He watches over little kids.”

“And what are you supposed to do so that God knows to watch over you?”

“Say my prayers,” David answered dutifully.

“And do you say your prayers?”

“No,” Kimberly exclaimed. “He doesn’t.”

“Do you?” Elizabeth asked her daughter.

“Sometimes,” she answered tentatively. “When David doesn’t bother me.”

~ ~ ~

J
effrey stomped out the second cigarette and lit a third. He could hear the excited voices inside. He knew they were laughing at him and the way he shivered on the cold cement step while they stayed warm and comfortable and had a fine time. Liz wanted people to feel sorry for her, but he was the one who deserved their pity. He was the one up to his knees in bills. He was the one responsible for taking care of three kids—kids who, judging from the sound of their laughter, enjoyed being with Liz more than him.

He tossed his cigarette onto the walkway then twisted and ground it until it was nothing but shreds of tobacco. He stood, took two steps across the walkway then two steps back. Once, twice, then again and again, pacing as the anger inside of him swelled and pushed against his skin.

At first he didn’t notice the rain, but when the wind pushed the icy drops inside the collar of his jacket, he moved beneath the overhang. Now closer to the door, he heard their words clearly. Charlie told David he’d take him to a Yankees game in the spring.

“Over my dead body,” Jeffrey grumbled as a frigid droplet slithered down his back. The rain began to fall harder and wind gusts blasted his face. He moved closer to the door until his back pressed against it.

Suddenly the door opened and Jeffrey tumbled inside, landing on his back and looking up at Liz leaning on her walker.

“What the hell are you trying to do, cripple me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to ask if you and the kids could stay for lunch.”

Scrambling to his feet, he gave her an angry glare and snarled, “No.” He heard David and Kimberly already at the dining room table.

“You’ve got forty minutes,” he said, eyeing his watch. “Then we’re out of here.”

“But, Jeffrey—”

“Twelve noon!” he said, tapping the face of his watch. “You’ve got the kids until twelve noon, not one minute longer!”

“That’s not fair,” she argued. “You were late getting here, and you didn’t even bring Christian. Judge Brill said—”

Jeffrey took a step forward and jabbed a finger at Elizabeth’s face. “Don’t start with me. You think because your daddy’s got money, you can bully me around?Try it and see what happens!”

“I wasn’t trying to bully you into anything. I only thought maybe we could spend some time together as a family.”     

“Spend time together?” His face crumpled in disbelief. “You’re crazy! Only a crazy person would ask me to spend time with someone I hate.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Yes, I do! I can’t even stand to be around you!  You know what I wish?  I wish you’d hurry up and die so me and the kids can get on with our life!”

Tears rimmed Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Jeffrey,” she whispered.

But he stormed down the walkway. She bit her lip as she watched him, his steps crashing against the cement, his body hunched against the cold, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

“Are you all right?” Charlie asked from behind Elizabeth.

Torn between sorrow and shame, Elizabeth tried to force a smile.

“It was nothing,” she said. “You know Jeffrey. He can be a hothead at times.”

“We’ll see about that!” Charlie moved toward the walkway.

“Don’t,” Elizabeth said softly.

The muscle in Charlie’s jaw twitched as he stepped back inside the door and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s trembling shoulders.

“He’s not worth it,” he whispered, pushing back his own anger to comfort his daughter.

Together they stood there for several minutes, until Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder and said, “We’d better get back to the kids.”

Charlie nodded, saying nothing more even though he’d already decided what had to be done.

Claire McDermott

I
’m not deaf. I heard every word Jeffrey said, but what could I do with David and Kimberly sitting at the table waiting for me to pour milk? I tried to pretend the commotion was nothing and covered it up by asking if they wanted cookies. I know both kids heard Jeffrey screaming, but they didn't mention it. They didn’t have to; the frightened looks on their poor little faces made it obvious. Kimberly’s only four so she probably didn’t understand the maliciousness of her father’s words. David understood. I know he did, because he ducked his head like a child who’d already learned to hide from anger.

Hearing one parent speak to the other in such a way is something kids don’t forget. It roots itself in their impressionable minds and leaves an ugly mark. Kids exposed to such behavior eventually accept meanness as the way of the world, and they pass it on to others. It’s unthinkable that any father would offer his babies such a heritage.

I can’t imagine what Judge Brill was thinking when he awarded Jeffrey custody of the children. Only someone who’s evil through and through would say the mean things Jeffrey said. I wish I’d recorded that conversation with Elizabeth. If Judge Brill got an earful of JT saying those things, I bet he’d make some pretty different decisions.

Jeffrey told Judge Brill it’s not revenge. He said he just wants to get on with his life. If so, why doesn’t he let me watch the kids and he can look for a job? Because he doesn’t want a job, that’s why. He just wants to make Elizabeth as miserable as possible. After JT left, Charlie said he was gonna ask Dudley if it’s possible to get a court order to prohibit him from talking to Liz. Liz never mentions a word of what’s transpired, but I see the hurt in her eyes. Let me tell you, there’s no pain on earth worse than watching your daughter’s heart be broken.