The Album: Book One (26 page)

November 21, 2003

Z
ACHARIE
P
ASCALE
P
ARKER
was a hero.

His journey ended on a dirt road near a goat farm just two weeks shy of his furlough. What started as a routine sweep through the countryside, tragically ended with an IED explosion planted by the cowardly face of the Taliban. Three Marines of the fire team were killed and all three Marines were brought home. Zach’s journey ended in Afghanistan – but his salvation remains eternally present among the stars.

Zach’s body was transported with distinction and respect to the United States Air Force base in Dover, Delaware. Upon arrival, the body was transferred by guarded hearse to the Dover Air Force Mortuary. Our hero was dressed in full Marine Corps blues, shoes polished, nails trimmed, and short hair combed with care. The articles found on the person were catalogued and photographed as well as the footlocker and personal belongings of our hero. The closed coffin was adorned with an American flag and flown with two honor guards to JFK International Airport. The hero was welcomed by military officials and an honor guard, dignifying his return with the ceremonial attention and salute. Zach’s body was then driven by military hearse to McMillan’s Funeral Home in Greenwich, Connecticut.

Home.

Friends and family gather inside the funeral home to remember the valiant life of our fallen hero. Several approach the podium to speak of his legacy and his ultimate sacrifice. They all end with the same sentiments of admiration – a remembrance of the tiny impact humans are capable of leaving behind.

Zacharie Parker will be remembered as the boy with the crooked smile and the floppy mess of sandy hair, the student with a love for science and philosophy
,
the fraternity brother with the charismatic charm, the Marine lieutenant with an amazing lay-up, the son with honorable determination and unwavering integrity, and the prince . . .

Natalie stands slowly with the help of Chloe and walks impassively to the podium. She’s been here before, this same room, less than a year ago – but it will never be a place of familiarity. She glides her fingers over the framed picture of Zach, forcing herself to smile. It was Aunt Patty’s suggestion to have Natalie speak – it was Aunt Patty’s intention to have Natalie heal. But healing a damaged soul is much harder than healing a broken heart.

She stands behind the microphone and angles her body toward the casket. Natalie is speaking to Zach, and everyone else is just here to listen.

“One day, not too long ago, I was lost. And then you found me. To say our love was instant is a little crazy, but for two crazy dreamers, we made perfect sense. Because all men have stars.” Natalie pauses, closing her eyes and inhaling her pain.

“La vie est un interlude au salut. Life is an interlude to salvation. Tu es mon salut. I am your interlude. Mais sans toi, je n’ai rien . . . I have nothing.” She’s lost without her prince. Tears cascade down her cheeks, but she smiles with grace and affection. “I loved you. I love you. I will faithfully love you, and I abso-fucking-lutely, regret nothing!”

The room is silent. Natalie’s words may seem crass to those that don’t understand, but to those who knew of their magical relationship, her words are poetry. Judy and Chloe hug each other tightly. Aunt Patty dabs her eyes with a lace hanky. Raymond Parker lowers his head and whimpers in agony. A few rows back, Molly leans into Mr. Ross and sobs uncontrollably. Several older ladies wail in response to the other’s reactions and several older men, bow their heads in respect. And way in the back, standing in a reclusive corner near the door, with his body limp and deeply affected – Adam closes his eyes.

Natalie returns to her seat as the minister eloquently gives the closing remarks about the soul’s eternal existence after the body’s non-existence. People nod in hopeful agreement, because fear of death forces people to nod in hopeful agreement. The ceremony closes with a lovely alto singing Amazing Grace and the grieving guests lining up to pay their respects to the Parker family.

Six members of the honor guard carefully carry the casket to the hearse to then be driven to the private cemetery of the Parker lineage. A procession of cars follows behind the hearse through the quaint village of Greenwich, Connecticut.

This is Zach’s home.

That’s the park where he played basketball and attempted the death ramp on his skateboard. Over there, behind the bank, Zach smoked his first cigarette. His private school, off to the left, still displays his photo in the hall of class presidents. And up there, in his favorite spot to gaze upon the stars, was to be the location for his proposal to Natalie.

The procession parks one by one along the rocky perimeter of the cemetery. Mourners exit their cars to congregate around the burial site. Family members, including Natalie, are seated in a row near the covered vault. The honor guard marches the casket to the site with cadence and precision, respecting the final steps of our hero’s sacrificial service. The six guards then place the coffin on the covered burial vault and slowly, with military accuracy, lift the American flag and pull it taut. The seven-member firing party shoots three volleys into the cloudy November sky, and with each shot, Natalie mouths:

“I.”
Fire.

“Love.”
Fire.

“You.”
Fire.

Chloe places her hand on Natalie’s shoulder as Aunt Patty takes Natalie’s shaking hand. The silence echoes through the damp air – beautiful and frightening, but for Natalie, it sounds like nothing.

The honor guard folds the flag with care and precision – they are experts in ceremonial traditions. A bugler plays the solemn notes of
Taps
, while the Marine captain standing at attention at the foot of the casket slowly salutes our hero.

Once the flag is folded, the captain carries the symbol of national gratitude and kneels before Raymond Parker. “Please accept this flag in appreciation of Lieutenant Zacharie Parker’s faithful service to the United States Marine Corps. Semper Fidelis.”

Raymond Parker nods in acceptance and places the flag in his lap. The captain rises to his feet and returns to the foot of the casket. In unison, the honor guard slowly salutes Zach’s coffin as it is lowered into the desert of tears.

One last salute.

Le Salut.

Zacharie Pascale Parker has found his salvation.

November . . .

I
SIT ON
the chintz sofa.

I stare straight ahead at the stone fireplace.

I bite the inside of my lip until it bleeds.

I bob my head to strangers offering kind smiles.

Mom sits next to me on the couch and cradles me in her bosom like a child. My head rests on her shoulder as I emit agonizing shrieks of sadness. Big fat, sobbing tears. My eyes explode, my heart disintegrates and my dreams shatter.

Simultaneously. Repetitively. Painfully.

“Oh baby girl, please don’t hurt. Give me your pain, I’m your mother.” Mom strokes my head as my tears bleed onto her silk shirt. There’s blood everywhere, but who’s bleeding? Where am I? Why am I here?

“Natalie, come with me.” I hear the familiar voice of my cousin, but I only see her hand. I take her hand. I’m incapable of forming any speech. “We’ll be right back, Aunt Judy.”

Chloe squeezes my hand tightly. But who is squeezing my chest? We walk to a bathroom. I’ve been in here before – when I was alive. The door shuts and it vibrates through my emptiness, ringing inside my hollow chamber like a gothic church bell.

I hear running water and I desperately want to jump in and suffocate. I’d rather have water flowing through my body than the never-ending emptiness. A cool rag burns my skin. I slap at her hand, screaming and shaking.

“Nat, Nat!” Chloe’s arms wrap around me tightly and for a brief second, I feel love. And then it’s gone.

“Natalie. This is not going to be easy. Love is never easy. And you’ve been dealt a really shitty hand . . . but I promise you, things will get better. Let me love you. Let me help you.” Her fingers swipe the tears scorching my face. I can finally see.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“That’s better.” Chloe continues to clean my face with the damp cloth. “Do you ever think about how lucky Zach was – to have met you? A beautiful, smart, funny girl that made this past year bearable. You always talk about how much he sacrificed for you, but think about what you did for him.”

What I did for him? I was just a silly girl that made him laugh.

“Natalie, you gave him friendship, the pure and honest kind. You gave him hope. You gave Zach a reason to live during dark times – and you loved him.”

“I – I – loved him so much. I’ll never be able to tell him. He’s gone . . .”

“Shh, look at me, sweetie. Zach knew you loved him.”

“But I have nothing without him.” I gasp for air.

“Oh Natalie, you have the greatest of things – you have a purpose. You have a responsibility to honor the love you were lucky enough to experience. Let him live inside you. Let him live among the stars. Don’t bury Zach in your sorrow.”

“I’m so weak, Chloe. I can’t seem to string thoughts together. I’m scared.”

“I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. Give
me
your burdens.”

Chloe pulls out a brush from her purse and begins to comb my hair. Long, soft strokes – relaxing me, comforting me.

“Now, we’re going out there to show the world how brave Zach Parker makes us feel. We’re going out there to follow our dreams and open our hearts to endless possibilities. We will honor our friend and we will do it together. Are you ready?”

“No,” I say.

“Good. Let’s face the world together.”

Chloe manages to lead me through the dozens of mourners, chit-chatting quietly about anything but Zach. People grieve differently I suppose, but the price of stocks seems so irrelevant. I take a glass of wine from the waiter and chug it down.

“Hey, take it easy,” Chloe whispers.

I take another glass of wine and sip it slowly with my pinky high in the air. When Chloe’s not looking, I throw it back in one long gulp. She’s still holding my hand but her grip loosens and her palm suddenly feels clammy. “Oh fuck. Shit. Fuck me,” she snarls under her breath.

I follow her seething glare to find Raymond Parker. Raymond Parker shaking Adam Ford’s hand –
holy shit!
Did I say that out loud?

Adam pats Raymond’s shoulder and then walks toward us. He’s as handsome as ever, but his eyes are as bloodshot as mine. Chloe lowers her head in embarrassment and tries to pull me in the other direction.

Adam approaches us, sighing heavily and shaking his head. “Natalie, I had no idea. It seems I’ve been wrong a lot lately.” He glances at Chloe and then back at me. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love and how it feels to be watched when you’re trying to grieve. But there are people who truly care about you – don’t close them off.” The magnitude of this moment is so weird and yet surprisingly natural. He’s totally sincere when he speaks, and I know he would do anything to help me. If not for me, then because he’s hopelessly in love with Chloe.

“Er, thanks. But why are you here?” I ask.

Adam glances at Chloe before answering. “My law firm represents Raymond Parker – I represent Mr. Parker.”

“Oh, well that’s fucking fantastic!”

“I’m sorry?” Adam’s tone is defensive yet apologetic.

An internal debate about whether I should air the Parker laundry swirls through my limited consciousness. Am I really here? Is this an actual conversation? Zach would want me to drop it.

Jack, the former attorney of the Parker family, taps my shoulder gently. “Natalie?” It was just a year ago that we stood in this same room after Claire’s funeral.

“Jack, it’s nice to see you. You remember Chloe, my cousin? And this is Adam Ford, a friend.” Jack nods hello to Chloe and extends his hand to Adam.

“Natalie, we have some things to discuss regarding Zach’s will – can you swing by my office later this week?” Jack waits for my response.

“His will? I don’t understand,” I respond.

“It’s customary that I meet with the beneficiaries when money is involved. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t. And I don’t want money. Where’s his stuff?” My tone is harsh and offensive – not directed at anyone particular, it’s just the anger seeping through my veins.

“His stuff? Now I’m confused. There weren’t any specific items listed in his will besides Claire’s wedding ring.”

“Where are his clothes, his camera, and his letters . . . where are my letters?” My palms are sweaty as I bring them to my neck. I grasp my necklace, fidgeting uncomfortably in front of all these people. Chloe wraps her arm around my shoulder, but I push her away.

“His personal effects were catalogued and sent to Raymond. They customarily go to the next of kin.”

“Raymond Parker has my letters? Well that’s fucking awesome!” I’m sick. I want to throw up. I want to scream. I want to . . .

“Nat,” Chloe begs.

Sensing my growing hostility, Jack adds, “Natalie, I’d be happy to ask Raymond for the contents of Zach’s footlocker, is that what you want?”

“No. I’ll do it.” I storm off from the three of them before they can stop me. Chloe chases behind me and tries to grab my hand. When I reach Raymond, I give the young woman he’s speaking to an evil glare. She takes the hint and leaves with her slutty face between her legs.

“Raymond – I want Zach’s footlocker and all of the personal effects that belong to me.”

“Natalie, you’ve always been a little too forthcoming for my taste. You can’t walk into my house and demand things – it doesn’t work like that.” Raymond glowers.

Chloe tries to settle the tension by defending me. “She’s just emotional and . . .”

Before Chloe can finish her sentence, Adam appears at my side and calmly interjects. “Mr. Parker, Natalie is a friend of mine. She has a right to request the things that belonged to her. All of which were sentimental objects that were personal between the two of them, and you really have no need for letters and mementos.” Adam smiles sarcastically as Raymond rolls his eyes. He’s so fucking childish and he knows it.

“Mr. Ford, I would gladly hand over whatever it is that she feels entitled to, but the truth is, I don’t have anything. Now, if you will excuse me, there are guests that need my attention.”

Oh yeah, I’m sure of it. Like the little hussy in the red dress at a fucking funeral.

“Mr. Parker.” Adam says firmly. “Please keep me updated on Ms. LeGrange’s request.”

Raymond furrows his brow and stares at me, demeaning me and quite frankly, making me feel like shit. Adam places a hand on Raymond’s shoulder and shakes his head slowly. Raymond returns Adam’s serious gesture by frowning in disdain. The tension is  unbearable, and I never want to be the victim of Adam’s fury.

And then, Raymond reaches inside the pocket of his suit jacket like he’s pulling out a concealed weapon. All of the sudden, he whips out a 3 x 5 photo of a teenager with a horrible haircut. What a freak!

“Here, this picture was in Zach’s pocket. I assume it’s you.” Raymond sneers.

Oh my fucking god. Raymond passes me a photo of myself from the seventh grade – the time I decided that I could trim my bangs into a nice straight edge. It’s horrible – I look like Oliver Twist in a purple sweater. I flip it over to the back and find two inscriptions:

Natalie’s bangs debacle of ’92 ~ Judy

And,

Ma femme ~ never apologize for being you.

Only Zach would find humor in my stubborn craziness, and only Zach would love me for being me.

I couldn’t stand the haunting silence, let alone sleep in my parent’s house. Without waking Chloe, I put on my sneakers and wandered to a nearby park in my pajamas. It’s freezing – a sign of the desolate winter that’s in store. But nights like this also bring clarity among a star-filled sky. I pick a bench near the playground and pull my arms inside my shirt. I used to love flapping my sweatshirt arms like a penguin, but now it just seems pointless – lots of things seem pointless.

“Zach!” I scream at the stars. “Why? Am I being punished? Why – why were you taken from me?” The tears start to roll down my face. My skin is raw and chafed and every drop stings like acid – but I would spend an eternity with acidic tears and horrible hair if I could just tell him goodbye.

Do you hear me, God?

I guess I expect some sort of flicker of light, some poetic justice to a crappy week. A sign of any kind, something to give me hope. I look around at the quiet streets of a place where our souls connected. Nothing.

I gaze at the sky twinkling with stars. Nothing.

I clutch my necklace and force my eyes shut . . .

Rien.