The Heavenly Heart (28 page)

“Easy does it,” another says.

 There’s something at work in this room. It’s done the impossible. It’s reached Clarence. That’s like a
major
miracle. Clarence’s been drinking since before I was born. And now he’s willing to let it all go. Or at least try to. And to start with, all he had to do was to believe in a power greater than himself.

Clarence walks to the front of the room. Today is his first day he’s
declared
his sobriety, so he gets to pick up a white chip. Later he can exchange it for different colors to mark the days he stays sober. He’s been here a month. And of course he’s been sober all that time. They don’t serve any alcohol. They can’t even have mouthwash that’s got it mixed in.

Tomorrow my mother’s coming to pick him up .He’s being discharged. He’s completed the thirty-day program.

“Ninety in ninety, buddy,” the speaker says to Clarence and hands him a white chip.

Ninety in ninety means he’s supposed to attend ninety AA meetings in ninety days to get off to a good start. Clarence takes the chip and holds it to his chest like it’s made of pure gold.

“You can do it, man,” Rudy says, wiping the tears from his eyes. Rudy’s had a relapse. He went on a home visit last weekend and smoked some cocaine. He’ll be staying for another thirty days.

I hope Rudy makes it. I hope Clarence makes it. I hope they all make it. They’re running out of chances.

*         *        *

Christopher’s having his favorite lunch—pizza. Mine, too. It must run in the family.

“I have to go away,” I say.

“Will you be back?” he asks,

I stroke his blonde hair. He’s so beautiful, each and every part of him. I love his little slanted eyes and the flattened bridge of his nose. He’s perfectly adorable in all his uniqueness.

“I’m going upstairs to that part of Heaven,” I say and point to the gold and purple mist that dances above us. “I’ll be gone forever.”

“Okay,” he says.  “See you later.”

Forever’s not a scary word to him.

“I’ll stay here by my friends,” he says.

He puts his arms around my neck and gives a hug. I hug him back and take in the sweet scent of his hair one last time. I’ll miss him.

Children are so special, so innocent—so blessed. They don’t understand forever, or for always. They only know today.

NINETY-ONE

The Memorial Garden

I’m at the Memorial Garden in Richmond, Virginia, the tribute established by the United Network for Organ Sharing. Maybe if I experience the emotional transformation they speak of in their brochure I can finally let go. You might remember there’s three rooms here: Hope, Renewal and Transformation. The Wall of Sorrow and Joy is in the Hope room. My name’s behind the slow stream of water that runs over this stone wall. I’m using the AA slogans as I walk through the rooms.
Keep it simple Easy does it. One step at a time.
They’re not just for drunks.

There’s a slew of people here. I blend right in.  I go to the Hope room and locate the Wall of Sorrow and Joy. It takes me a long time to find my name, but it’s there. It’s on a wall that’s been newly constructed. The stone is lighter than the others. It looks so pretty.
Lorelei Goodroe
it says in this really nice script.
One angel donor
. That’s me—one angel donor who doesn’t really want to be one. Nothing’s changed inside me. I still want earth and all it was. I watch the stream of water pouring over the stone wall. It’s supposed to honor the tears of those who’ve lost their loved ones. The water’s also supposed to be a tribute to the joy that’s received knowing the gift of life was given after death. I’m a gift! That’s cool. A gift for Mona and for Kirsten who are both doing good. I dry my eyes and go to the Butterfly Lawn which represents Renewal. It’s just like the brochure describes. It’s filled with light with layers and layers of plantings that have attracted thousands and thousands of butterflies. They remind me of our garden at home and all the attention Mr. Daniel, our gardener gave to it. The butterflies are to symbolize renewal. They’re a bronze plaque that explains it. It reminds me of home and all that I’ve lost. I think I’m feeling worse. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, my coming here.

I head to the kiosk across the way which has the online tributes. I find the one that Mona’s written about me. It says a tragic accident took my life and gave her one in return.
Much love to you my always angel
, it says. I’m an always angel. That sounds pretty cool.  That should make me happy. So why am I crying again?  But I blend right in with all the other people who are here crying, too. Maybe some are crying for happy. Could be—there’s happiness here, too.

I wander out to the Memorial Grove which represents Transformation. Holly trees are everywhere. It’s an awesome place. There’s a bunch of white benches to sit on. They’re scattered everywhere and there’s clusters and clusters of trees. The water that flows through this room forms a huge waterfall that pours down into the Gift of Life Fountain in the garden below. It’s like a mini-Niagara Falls. My knees grow week. I find a bench off to myself and bury my head in my arms. I want so badly to be transformed, to be glad for all the good things that have come from my death. I want to let earth alone and go on my way and be done with it, already. I cry until I’m sure there can’t be any tears left in me. That’s when it hits me—the memory of the night that ended with my no longer being part of this earth. I look at the waterfall. It’s a giant screen right before my eyes. The night I’ve been avoiding, the night I died—there, I’ve said it—is on that screen. It starts out the same as in the Silver Lining. I’m waiting for my mother to turn her light out and fall asleep. The problem is she’s reading a book—
Water for Elephants
. It’s a New York Times bestseller. It must be one that deserves to be. She’s been up reading for hours. It’s almost eleven thirty and her light’s still on. I tiptoe down the stairs and through the kitchen and out the back door. I make my way to the portico where the Land Rover is parked. I look up and see that my mother’s light’s still burning bright. I’ve got to hurry if I want to be on time to pick up Paige and Annalise. If I’m late, they’ll think something’s wrong. Annalise will call to see if I’m still up and ask my mother if I might come to the telephone. She’ll say she’s sorry to call so late, but it’s very important that she speak with me. My mother will go to get me and find that I’m not in my room. Oh boy, from there it will only get worse. Soon she’ll find that I’m not anywhere in our house and she’ll call the police, just like last time!

Why didn’t I tell Annalise,
never
,
never
call my house if I am late. Wait for me to call her! But I didn’t and knowing Annalise, she’ll call. My mother’s light’s still on. My mother usually goes to sleep promptly at eleven. It’s now eleven thirty. I can still just make it if I hurry. If she’ll turn off her light, put on her sleep mask, and go to sleep!

Finally, there’s no light in her window. It’s totally black. I wait fifteen more minutes, then, climb in the Land Rover. I don’t put the headlights on until I’m out the driveway and onto the main thoroughfare. I take the shortcut to pick up Annalise first. It will take me past the public high school and the old cotton mill next to the train tracks. I have the CD player going full blast. One of my favorite songs is playing by Fergie:
Big Girls Don’t Cry
. I’m pounding the steering wheel, keeping time with the music. And I’m driving too fast. I’m on my way to pick up Paige and Annalise, just like I was in the Silver Lining. I’m sixteen years old without a care in the world. I think I’ll live forever. I have no fear. My foot leans even harder on the gas pedal. I’m going eighty. The road is narrow and dark. The music builds to a crescendo. I’m giddy. We’re going to have so much fun. The music puts me into orbit. Now I’m doing ninety. I’m almost there. It’s one second to midnight—I’ll make it just in time! I fly over the tracks, Fergie’s clear voice is roaring in my ears.

I don’t see the train. It slams into the Land Rover on the driver’s side and slices it in two. Then it careens off the track and into the path of the oncoming Amtrak train on its midnight run to Atlanta.

There’s an elderly lady who’s tossed out of the car like a rag doll. Her face is peaceful in sleep, her silver hair barely out of place. She looks like a broken porcelain doll. I know that lovely, delicate face.

It’s Miss Lily.

NINETY-TWO

The Step of Denial

I leave the Memorial Grove with the magnificent Holly trees and make my way to the Step of Denial which holds my own forest of trees that are covered with leaves that list every minute of my life. I run through the forest and find my last tree. It’s the tree Carla poked around in the day we first came here.

I’m not here to deny that this tree exists. I’m here to claim it. To make it all mine. Because my mother was reading her book, I was late in picking up Paige and Annalise. In the Silver Window the train hit the passenger side of the Land Rover right at midnight. But that was the Silver Window, which portrayed the circumstances that would have unfolded if I’d lived. But, I didn’t live. I was on my way to get Paige and Annalise, running late, all because of that wonderful book
Water for Elephants
which kept my mother reading well past her bedtime. This time the train slammed into the Land Rover right at midnight, too. But I was going to get Paige and Annalise, not coming back. So the train hit the side I was sitting on. I didn’t kill Paige and Annalise. I never even got to them. They were saved by that book—I could kiss that author.

NINETY-THREE

The Golden Window

My mother’s picked up Clarence and she’s headed to Joseph Banks—the fine men’s clothier. She’ll instruct them to put a wardrobe together for casual living.

“And one good dress suit,” she says when she arrives.

Clarence’s a bit bewildered but doesn’t complain. He’s always been a bit intimidated by my mother. Most people are, except for my father. He knew how to keep her off balance. Mr. Warren’s not with them, and I am anxious to see what’s going on with him and my mother. It’s possible that their relationship is what caused my father’s heart to fail—not that he didn’t have it coming, but who am I to judge? I kill old ladies.

Onetta’s waiting at home, taking over her old duties and driving Eunice up the wall. My mother’s instructed Eunice to let Onetta do whatever it is she wishes to do, but Eunice under no circumstances is to let Onetta overdo it. Onetta is bossing Eunice around.

“You needs to dust under these beds,” she tells Eunice, who is really glad when my mother finally gets home.

Clarence has been given his old job back, which consists of doing odd jobs around the house.

It’s a very tender moment to see Onetta reunited with Clarence, who looks really great in his new clothes.

“My you is handsome,” Onetta says. “And you smells like heaven!”

Clarence has made twelve meetings in twelve days. First my mother put him up at a local hotel to make sure he’d make good before she offered him his old job back and told Onetta that he’d be returning.

“He’s been through treatment, Onetta,” my mother explained. “He won’t be up to his old tricks.

My mother should’ve left Clarence at that motel for a few months. On the thirteenth day Clarence meets up with an old pal of his and shows off his new clothes.

“I’m a sober man,” he says proudly.

His friend pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his well-worn jacket and offers a toast. That’s all it takes—a bottle shoved under his nose. One hour later Clarence is wobbling around like a whirling dervish.

My mother sends the gardener, Mr. Daniels to bring him home. Onetta strips Clarence of all his new clothes and puts him in the bathtub.

“Oooeee, he stink to high-heaven,” she says, and dunks his head under the water.

My mother’s a firm believer that once you spend thirty thousand dollars on treatment, it’s forever. Mr. Daniels will go get Clarence in his drunken state as long as my mother keeps sending him. And Onetta—well she’s spent thirty years with Clarence and his drinking. It’s nothing new to her.

There’s no telling how long this revolving circus will go on.

NINETY-FOUR

The Steps to the Hereafter

I’m back at the Step of Acceptance, the beautiful beach with the sun and the sand. When I get here I find that the mist of water that Carla and I ran through is really a fine mist of oil!  And when I get out of this shower, the same gentle wind storm breathes on the leaves that I’ve carried with me from the Step of Denial. They cling to me like lint on a sweater. But I have no fear. I quickly run to the Step of Attrition and jump into the crystal clear water. I’m bathed in sun light and washed clean of all the memories that haunt me. I’m lighter than air. No wonder Garrett and Miss Lily and Carla and my father were laughing and carrying on the day I watched them climb this step. I am dizzy with gladness. The Step of Devotion is next. It’s a crystal cathedral like none I’ve ever seen before. The music that fills my ears is a sound only the angels could bring. There’s a serenity here I don’t know how to describe. It’s the most peaceful moment a mind can imagine. I’m light-headed and giddy. When I had my appendix out the nurse gave me this shot before they wheeled me to the operating room. I remember floating on a cloud so high and so wonderful that I never wanted to it to stop. The feeling here is ten thousand times—no ten millions times—stronger. Clarence will absolutely love heaven. He better clean up his act to make sure he gets here. Then I remember what Pete said about not having to earn it, only having to want it, to accept it, so I just wish Clarence well on his road to recovery.

Before me is a golden staircase studded with diamonds, rubies, and pearls. Above me is the Step of Discovery—the final step. I’m so happy! My laughter fills the sky. I want to run up this step and begin my new life. But this is the step of no return. I can’t take this step. Not yet.