Family Interrupted (6 page)

Oh, I got it. Mary was cluing me in. Make this couple happy. She hung up, and within seconds, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman were in my office.

I listened. I took notes. They’d forgotten the name of the model. I’d never been to Grand Lakes. It was a three-bedroom, two-bath, one-story, they explained. Could I decorate theirs like the showcase house? I had no idea. The temp must have done a good job beyond the kitchen on this one.

The Hoffmans watched me search through the blueprints. Where the hell was a three-bedroom, two-bathroom? Where the hell was Grand Lakes?

Frantic, I pulled open one desk drawer after another until I reached the bottom left and found myself staring into Kayla’s beaming face. Her happy, sweet face. I picked up the framed photo and burst into tears. Reaching blindly into the drawer, I pulled out Ian’s picture and barely noticed the couple leave my office.

Jack showed up a moment later. And I pointed at our kids. “You put the daisies where the pictures used to be, didn’t you?”

“Sure, I did. You would have run like hell if they’d been on top of the desk.”

The flowers had been a distraction. A postponement of the inevitable. He knew I’d ask about the pictures sooner or later, but not right away if he could help it.

“Take me home. Now,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’m done.”

He glanced at his watch. “You’ve been here only an hour or so. Give it more time. Mary will take messages.”

I gestured to the walls, the blueprints. “I barely know the number of square feet in a square yard anymore. Grand Lakes? People coming in and out. I don’t know the new stuff, Jack, and can’t remember the old. I’ll scare everyone away. If you want Barnes Construction to keep succeeding, get me out of here.”

“Stay until noon, sweetheart. We’ll have lunch and talk.”

But I was out the door, racing down the hall, keys in hand. I could drive his truck. “I’ll pick you up later.”

“Coward!”

His voice carried through the halls where half the employees could hear, and I winced. Trouble at the top trickled down to the bottom. Gossip and rumors could start. Jack didn’t deserve more problems.

My fault again. Always doing the wrong thing. I knew it but couldn’t turn back. I charged toward the truck and collapsed behind the wheel. With shaking hands, I turned on the ignition then glanced into the rearview mirror and laughed. My hair looked great—blonde, bouncy, shaped. So what? It didn’t matter at all. Jack had been almost right. I was not only a coward but a guilty one at that.
Kayla, Kayla...I love you so much, and I’m so sorry. I can’t bring you back to us, but what can I do? How can I make it up to you?

#

I turned into my driveway just after the school bus pulled away. Maddy waited for me with a big smile across her face.

“Mama’s coming over,” she said, hugging me. “She said she’d meet me here after school because we want to make art with you. For Kayla.”

I forced myself not to cry as I held her, inhaled her. “You want to draw? You won’t be bored?” Maddy had a better eye than Kayla, but she wasn’t an undiscovered genius. More to the point, she didn’t have Kayla to gab with. I wondered how her kind little heart could bear it.

“Nope. I won’t be bored. I need pictures for my stories. Mom says I write great stories.”

“I sure do think so. Hey, Claire. I hope it’s okay for us to take advantage of all the goodies you’ve got in there.” Anne joined arms with me, and we trekked up the driveway.

“Of course. In fact, there’s not much being used now. Help yourself.” I sighed a deep, quavering breath and felt Anne’s grip tighten.

“Easy does it,” she murmured.

“I’ve had a bad day,” I said. “Just give me a second.” I entered the studio and flipped on the light. I made sure my finished works and work-in-progress were covered with cloths. “All’s clear. Come on in.”

Maddy headed directly to the kids’ table, dropping her books on the bench and searching out the supply of colored paper. “I need to make a collage for art class,” she began. “And I already know what I’m going to do. Our soccer team. On the field. So I need a big background sheet, and a scissor...”

She chatted on about her plans for the project, gathering materials—glue, colored paper, popsicle sticks...

Maddy knew what she wanted to accomplish, and I didn’t make suggestions. I tried never to interfere with the creative process, especially with children.

“And Kayla will be on the team too,” she said. “Do you have crepe paper? I need yellow for the halo.”

My stomach tightened, and I glanced at Anne. She shrugged back at me. “It’s healing for her,” she said. “She’s sad when she begins her ‘Kayla projects,’ but she’s smiling when she’s finished. Her efforts seem to be doing some good.”

“Therapy?”

“Well, yes. I think you could say that.”

Anne led me outside. “I know your grief—yours and Jack’s—is unimaginable. And God knows five months is not long. But I have to help my daughter through this too. It’ll take time, so thanks for letting us use your studio. Maddy very much wanted to come here today.”

Well, if I couldn’t help Kayla, at least I could help her best friend. “Would you like a key? I might not be home each time Maddy wants in. Today was a disaster at the office, but I’m probably going to work for Jack again.”

“Is that such a bad idea?”

“I’d rather be in there,” I replied, nodding at my retreat. Anne glanced away then, as though taking courage, held my gaze. “I noticed quite a few items under wraps. You’ve been busy. Do you smile, like Maddy does, when you’ve finished a piece? Does working here make you feel better?”

She sounded concerned, not snarky, a dear friend wanting to help. But I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I’m just driven to making another one.”

“I wish I were I psychiatrist,” she said, “instead of a book seller. Hey! Shall I bring home some books about grieving?”

“No, thanks,” I replied. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

She turned down my offer of the key but left me with a hug and the promise of another walk around the lake very soon.

Now all I wanted to do was take a nap. I’d boil hotdogs for dinner. Dinner! Jack! Dang. I’d almost forgotten about picking him up at the office.

IAN

March-six months after accident

“Have you told your dad yet?”

I slammed my locker door, hoisted my backpack, and pushed my arms through the straps. “Yeah. Last night.” And I didn’t want to think about that conversation.

“How loud did he yell?”

Danny Goldberg had been my closest friend since Kindergarten. Now we were both in our high school honors program. He knew me better than my parents did, knew how to score a direct hit. Somehow he had a way of asking questions that made me want to bawl louder than a calf getting branded. I had to turn away.

“He didn’t,” I finally replied. “He didn’t raise his voice at all.” But maybe he should have. Maybe he should have shouted:
Not go to college? What are you talking about? Now get those applications in. I don’t care about late fees.

“So you got off easy, huh?”

“As easy as riding a bull. He hauled my mom into it.”

“Oh boy.” That’s all he said, all he had to say.

Let him alone, Jack. Let him do what he wants. He’s miserable here.
Then she stared at me for a long time. What will make you happy, Ian? No, never mind. That’s a stupid question. Better is, what can make you
hopeful again?

“Hopeful? What world is she in?” I muttered as Danny and I headed to the exit, to the lot where his third-hand vehicle was parked. “She doesn’t say it, but she still thinks it’s my fault about Kayla and that I’m the most juvenile, irresponsible person she knows. I can’t do anything right. How could I know the damn car would turn the corner just then?”

“You couldn’t! No way.”

“And Dad thinks I just need a break from school. He should know school’s the easy part. I need a break from my family. I had to give him all kinds of other reasons for job searching instead of working with him.”

“Your dad’s a good guy. That must’ve been tough.”

“Yup. And tricky ’cause...because...” I almost couldn’t tell him. “You’re my best friend, Danny, and my own thoughts are getting me nowhere. I’ve got to share this. Can you keep your mouth shut?”

“C’mon, Ian. Don’t we always?”

Yeah, we did. “I think there’s trouble with the company. Dad’s worried. If I were a good son, I’d drop out of school and work with him like I do in the summer. Maybe I’d save him some money. Whaddyathink?”

Danny’s brow furrowed, and he stared off into space—his usual expression while figuring stuff out. I knew to give him time. A shrink would probably say I’m “too close” to the situation to evaluate clearly. All I knew was that I needed Danny’s help, and I’d get it.

Nothing had been right at home since Kayla died. My mom was in her own world, I guess cleaning the house all day, or working in her studio. She didn’t talk much to me except to complain. But I wasn’t arguing with her anymore about anything. It wasn’t worth it. I kept remembering how she keeled over at Kayla’s funeral, and I thought she’d died too. So I was keeping my mouth shut before something else bad happened.

As for Dad, well, he claimed to hear me, but he didn’t really listen. He couldn’t believe I wanted to turn down college and go out on my own. Before Kayla died, he assumed I’d join him in the business after I got my degree. But I’d never said so.

“You couldn’t save your dad enough money to make a difference.” Danny’s dark eyes held my gaze, his usual easy going demeanor absent. “Compared to his real expenses, at your level of work, your salary’s nothing. What’s happening between you and your dad is not about the money. It’s about leaving home, leaving him and your mom.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” In my gut, I’d known it. Just needed affirmation.

We got into Danny’s car, but I didn’t feel like going to a silent house. “How about a little one-on-one?”

“Your driveway or mine?”

Ten minutes later, we were dribbling, driving, and shooting for the rim. Sweat ran down my face. I was quick, but Danny was taller. I took one shot after another, pivoting left, then right. Soon, my vision blurred. I became two people, like in a dream, one of me making baskets and one speeding toward the street, toward my sister. Pointing at the car. Shouting at her and running, but I was too late. Always too late.

Kayla was into sports like me. She had a better arm than most girls and even some guys, and she was always ready for a catch. I drove the football; she ran backwards, jumped, caught it, but Newton’s Second Law kept her going right into the road. And that’s when I saw the car coming. Kayla was there, and I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop her, and I couldn’t stop the car. I saw her go down, and I’ll never forget it. Never ever.

The police asked a million questions, but I was shaking so hard I could barely talk. I pointed at the driver.

“She’s the one. Ask her. She called you. She told me to get a blanket for Kayla.”

That was true. The woman—her name was Sarah something-or-other—had to take charge. I wasn’t too proud of myself but glad she knew what to do. I thought she’d really kept her cool until I saw her vomit after the cops showed up. Then she fell to the curb, her arms and legs shaking as hard as mine. Maybe she was the one in shock. In the end, it was all about angles and velocity and coincidence.

“Not your fault, man.” My friends gathered round all through the following weeks, their presence needed, their loyalty matching the Marine Corps code. Without Danny and the guys to lean on, I would have gone nuts. Sometimes, they couldn’t hide their pity; sometimes they still couldn’t, but I’d rather hang out with them than be at home. My senior year of high school had gone down the sewer.

“Hey, Ian. Give it a break, will ya?”

“Huh? What?” I looked around. Danny was on the sidelines, watching me play alone, watching me take all the shots, catch all the rebounds, dribbling and driving.... I was soaked with sweat. I looked over at him then down at myself. My legs began to shake just like on that day, and I slowly folded to the ground.

Stay with her, Ian. I don’t want her alone in the house.

But, Mom, I’ve got my own life. Danny’s waiting. We’ve got practice and projects. C’mon. I’m not a friggin’ babysitter!

“Oh, shit, Ian! Don’t die on me.” Danny was hauling me to my feet. “Come on inside. You need some Gatorade. And we’ll have something to eat.”

“You sound like your mother.
Have something to eat
,” I mimicked, trying to regain my composure.

Danny roared. That’s exactly what I liked about him. He could laugh at everything, especially at himself. “So, maybe she has the right idea,” he countered. “Food’s always good.”

I began laughing too. And for a moment, it was like old times at Danny’s house or mine.

We washed up and dug into leftovers that could pass for a meal anyplace else. Chicken drumsticks, meatballs, and Italian bread. I filled up. Now I wouldn’t have to eat with my folks.

“So, if you’re not going to work with your dad in the business, where are you going to work?” asked Danny, continuing the conversation we’d started in the locker room.

“I’ve got some ideas floating in my brain. I went to the career office today, and the staff is helping me get organized for that job search.”

“I didn’t even know we had a career office. So, you gonna work on the Geek Squad at Best Buy?”

“Nope. At least I don’t think so. The counselors are lining up an interview for me at Gulf Coast Oil Refinery.”

Danny’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “An oil refinery? Hell, Ian. That’s crazy! What do you know about oil plant operations?”

“Not much, but we figured out in the career office that I’m hot with a computer, great in math and science, know something about the construction trades, and I’m used to tackling projects and organizing information.” That last one definitely came from the counselor. My mom would appreciate it too.
Yeah, Mom, I can organize some things.

I had Danny’s full attention now and gave him the clincher. “The most important part is that the job’s fifty miles away from here, and that’s absolutely perfect.”