Megan's Way (14 page)

As an afterthought, she decided to give
herself in death what she wouldn’t allow herself in life. She
padded across the plush carpet and kneeled by her bed. She reached
deep under her bed and withdrew a small wooden box. Smiling, she
laid her hand across the top of the box. After a moment, she lifted
the lid and fingered through its contents. She knew just what she
was looking for. She found her treasure, folded, and resting upon
the rough bottom of the box. She withdrew it with shaking hands,
and unfolded it with her delicate fingertips, careful not to rip
the fine paper. She read the words under the newspaper photo, “Mr.
Lawrence Childs Donates $1 Million to the Center for Missing
Children”. She gazed into his electrifying eyes, which seemed to
jump off the page, and put the article against her cheek. Megan
closed her eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the smell of the
stale newspaper. She had never before questioned her
desire
not to be married, and now, assumed fate had led her on this path.
She
wanted
to wish things could have been different. She
wanted
to wish she could have allowed him deeper into her
world. A part of her
wanted
to wonder what her life would
have been like had she not gotten pregnant— but her mind did not
travel in that direction. She had lived the life she had
created—and the life she had loved. As much as she thought she
should feel the need to revisit her decisions, that need was not
there, and something about that lack of wonder made her happy. She
gently folded the article against itself, kissed the outside of the
folds, and tucked it into her clothing, next to the two photos.

A pang of guilt speared through her as she
acknowledged what she had done. It had been over four weeks since
she had taken her medication, allowing her body to quickly
deteriorate and sparing her daughter and friends months of pain
while they watched her die. That was what she wanted. That was how
she was choosing to go.

Megan reached into the vase on her
windowsill, the one that Olivia had made out of clay for her when
she was seven, with hand-painted, uneven, tiny red and blue flowers
painted on the sides. She felt the familiar shapes of the many
pills she was supposed to be taking, sifted through them, and
cringed, as if they had little thorns. She sorted through each pill
until she found the forty Percocet, the ones that would allow her
to leave this life as she knew it and enter into the next. Her
heart pounded in her chest as she rolled them around in her palm,
rubbing a few between her index finger and thumb. She looked at the
horded pills, so little yet so lethal. She was glad that she had
had the presence of mind to keep them after her initial surgery.
Her doctor had never flinched when she had asked for more, a month
later. Her head jerked up as a shriek broke through the air.

Olivia and Holly chased each other around the
yard between the tall pine trees and the house. Just as Olivia
caught up to Holly, she doubled back and Olivia was once again left
trailing behind. Peter blocked off one side of the yard, his long
arms outstretched as if he could cover the entire span. Holly
positioned herself to stand guard at the other side, arms firmly
crossed. They beamed with delight. Olivia hovered in the center,
like a child caught in a game of Red Rover.

Megan put the pills in her skirt pocket and
took her meditation CDs from the shelf, which she’d fashioned from
a piece of driftwood she’d found near Cockel Cove in Chatham. As
her tears subsided, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked
to her doorway. She stopped, turned around, and took one last look
at her bedroom. She headed down the hallway, but could not bring
herself to take her last look into Olivia’s bedroom. Instead, she
made her way slowly down the stairs, toward the shrieks and cries
of happiness.

“Mom! Help me!” Olivia yelled as she chased
Holly in circles around the bonfire pit.

“She’s fine, Meggie! She’s just being a
brat!” Holly yelled.

Megan lifted her eyes toward Peter. “What is
going on?” she laughed, which seemed to take much of her energy.
“Holly said she could outrun Livi any day,” Peter motioned with his
hands as if he were putting out a display of fine art, “so Holly
slapped Livi on the behind and took off.”

“Sorry, Liv. I don’t think I’ll be much
help!” Megan’s voice was soft, too breathy, and quickly caught her
daughter’s attention.

Olivia ran to her mother’s side. “Mom, are
you okay? Do you need to sit down?” Her hands felt warm and large
on Megan’s own.

“No, honey, I’m fine. I’m just winded, that’s
all,” Megan said. She mustered up all of her energy to give them a
good show. “Come on,” she smiled, “let’s do this right!” She turned
to her daughter, not knowing how to tell her that this was when she
needed to go inside, that it was her mother’s time.

She didn’t have to say a word as Olivia read
her face and stormed toward the house.

Megan felt overwhelmed with guilt. She closed
her eyes in an effort to gather her strength.
I need this time
with them. Olivia will be fine
. Struck by the smell of the
evening—sea breeze, burning wood, and the crispness of the night
air— Megan could not shake the feeling that Olivia needed to be by
her side. She stood alone by the bonfire, and noticed that Peter
and Holly had, in fact, done a great job of setting the sticks and
rocks just right. Frustrated and confused, Megan sat back on her
haunches and buried her face in her hands. She was unable to get
her mind to settle on what was right and what was wrong. Death
loomed in the night before her, and yet she was just throwing away
the pieces of her life so that she could spend the next few hours
enjoying her friends alone. She remained there, hunched over, the
fire warming her, her head spinning, until she could no longer
stand the thoughts racing through her mind. She stood abruptly,
wobbled, and put her arms out to steady herself.

The rustling of leaves, snapping of twigs,
hushed voices, and giggles drew her gaze toward the forest, where
Peter and Holly were gathering more wood.

“Damn woods, you know all I can think about
are the ticks and snakes,” Peter’s voice was tethered and
annoyed.

“Come on, Peter. It’s only nature. Suck it
up! Pretend you are on a scavenger hunt,” Holly said, “Or that
you’re reliving the night with Tim Mate in college! You guys hit
the woods, and I didn’t hear any complaining back then!”

They both laughed so hard that Holly tripped
over a log, landing on Peter’s ankle and tumbling him to the
ground. It was silent for just a second, until Holly overflowed
with laughter.

“Damn, Peter! Watch your ankles!”

The laughter continued. A noise, like
footsteps on leaves, came from behind the big oak tree on the side
of the house.

“Guys! Did you hear that?” Megan wondered if
they could hear her own loud whisper. She turned to see them
righting themselves and brushing off leaves.

“Only thing I heard was my big ass landing on
the ground,” Holly joked.

“We all heard that,” Peter said.

“No, I
felt
it!” Holly laughed so hard
she fell down again.

The sounds of feet running through the woods
made them all turn toward the oak.

“What the h—” Holly ran toward the sound.

“Careful,” Megan said quickly, “It could be a
bobcat, or a dog, or something—”

“Oh yeah, like bobcats laugh! I heard a
laugh!” Holly was already deep in the woods, feet beating a path
towards the laughter that had become unmistakable. “Gotcha!” She
dove for the feet she saw just around the bend and grabbed a
familiar, slim ankle, sending Olivia face first into a pile of
rotten leaves.

“Thanks, Holly! What the hell was that for?”
Olivia fumed. Her black sweater and faded low rise jeans were
covered in leaves.

“It’s for eavesdropping. What will your
mother think?”

“I don’t really care what she thinks! I
wanted to see what you were doing in your…your….club!” At fourteen,
Olivia was tall and slender, but at that moment she was beautiful
only to those who could see past her teenage angst.

“Well, you didn’t have to spy, you little
rat. All you had to do was ask.” Holly reached out and grabbed
Olivia’s velvety hand, effortlessly pulling her to her feet. “Come
on, let’s find your mama and see what’s what.”

With a long sigh, Olivia answered, “Okay, but
you know she’ll just be mad. She doesn’t want me at the bonfire
tonight.” Olivia folder her arms across her chest and huffed, “I
already asked her, Holly, don’t you remember?”

“Young lady, you don’t know your mama like I
know your mama. She doesn’t have a truly mad bone in her body.
Well, maybe a mad, like crazy-loco, bone, but not a real true
I’m-mad-at-you bone—at least not one that lasts very long.” She
took a deep breath, “Let’s just see what we can do.” Holly rested
her arm protectively around Olivia’s shoulder, and couldn’t help
but wonder how Megan could possibly
not
want Olivia near her
at all times, given her circumstances.

“Look who the cat dragged out of the gutter!”
Holly presented Olivia, who appeared to shrink before her mother’s
eyes. She hid her eyes behind her bangs, and worried the leaf in
her hand.

“Livi, what were you doing out there?”
Megan’s eyes sent a mixed message of anger and concern.

“I…I was taking a walk,” Olivia lied.

“Aw, come on, Olivia,” Holly interrupted,
“she wanted to see our ritual.” over pronouncing “ritual” so Olivia
would see that she was on her side. “What do you think?” Megan
sauntered toward the garden and began picking flowers, her back to
Olivia and Holly.

“Olivia, you’ve seen us do this every year.
You already know what we do,” Peter said.

“No, I don’t! I’m never allowed out here. No
one is! This is your special time. It’s like this big
cloak-and-dagger club or something! Like you offer up sacrifices
and wear garlic around your neck!” Her hip jutted out in a typical
angry teenage stance.

“Come on, now, it’s never that secretive.
We’ve been doing this since we were your age. It’s our way of….of—”
Holly’s sentence dropped off as Peter interrupted.

“Coming together, airing out our minds,
cleansing our souls.” Peter noticed Megan had inched further away.
“Just ask your mother.”

Megan turned and wondered how it was that in
fourteen years she had never noticed how much strength her daughter
possessed. How could she have let this distance come between them?
“Olivia, come here.” Yearning to say more, but unable, she pulled
Olivia into her arms, and held her so close that she could count
the beats of her heart. She had to protect Olivia from becoming too
close to her, from seeing the outcome of tonight’s ritual. “I’m
sorry.”

“See! I knew it! Whatever!” Olivia ripped
herself from her mother’s arms and stormed into the house.

“What the hell, Megan?” Holly demanded. She
walked purposefully toward her and stopping within inches of
Megan’s pained face. “You two were so close, what happened? You
guys act like strangers! I’ve never seen you so cold.”

“It’s just that…I can’t be close to her now.
It’s not the time. It will hurt her too much. I’m not myself, it’s
not like it was years ago.” Megan’s eyes filled with tears as she
lowered herself onto her heels, elbows on knees, no longer having
the strength to stand up.

“Meg, this is the time. There is no better
time. She
needs
you. She needs to feel close to you,” Holly
said, suddenly seeing Megan again as a young girl, a mere shadow of
her former self.

“It will hurt her too much. It’ll make it
harder in the end,” Megan said, quietly.

Holly knelt down, and laid her hands on
Megan’s shoulders. “It’ll be harder if she remembers you in a bad
light. Let her in. She can handle this. She needs this. Let her
know how great you are for god’s sake.” Holly looked at Peter. “We
already know how great you are, Meg, she needs to remember you as
we all do.”

Megan stayed there, unable to stand, for a
long time. When she stood, her legs felt unstable. Holly reached
down to help her up, but Megan swiped at her hand, shooing her
away. She steadied herself and took careful steps toward the house,
unsure of each step, and unsure of her own emotions.

Megan approached Olivia’s room with a
pounding heart and a veil of confusion. She loved Olivia and didn’t
want to hurt her. Couldn’t Olivia see that she was trying to create
space so it wouldn’t hurt so badly when she was gone? Then it hit
her—hard. If all went as planned, tomorrow, she would not be there.
What the hell was she doing? Olivia was her daughter! Megan stood
up straighter, chiding herself for being so selfish. She smoothed
her hair and put one hand on Olivia’s doorknob, assuming she would
be met with Olivia’s pouting and angry face. She pushed the door
open and took in the colorful dragonflies that hung from the
ceiling, remembering the laughter that filled the room as she and
Olivia stood on the bed and reached for the ceiling to tack them
up. The bright quilted comforter displayed haphazard shapes and
forms, covered by neon and fuzzy pillows in greens and oranges, and
stuffed animals that had been slept with for so many years that
they had become dingy and matted. Instantly, she recognized the
feeling of emptiness in the room, and wondered if that was how her
own room would soon feel.

She yielded to the pain that was burning in
her stomach and accepted it as Olivia’s anger, her hatred. She
walked to the dresser and ran her finger along the edge,
remembering when Holly had given it to Olivia. “every little girl
needs white furniture with gold trim,” Holly had said. Megan smiled
at the memory. She sat in Olivia’s chair, and swore she could feel
her daughter’s body within her own.