The Plan (9 page)

“Claire,” she whispered. Some nights, when Claire couldn't sleep, she'd come wake Gia or get in bed with her. But the room was silent.
She fell back onto her elbows. Sleep would come easily this time. She was so tired.

Then she heard it again. The sound was loud and violent, as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to the dining room hutch. Glass breaking. Wood crashing. And screaming. Lots of screaming.

Gia jumped out of bed as her brain snapped from a dream state to consciousness. Without stopping to put on a pair of pants, she yanked open the door and ran into the hallway in nothing but a tank top and panties.

“Claire!” Gia called. “Claire!” She rushed to Claire's bedroom and swung open the door. The bed was empty.

Gia heard another crash. This one sounded like a window being smashed in.

The screaming was getting louder. More desperate. More intense. Gia couldn't make out the words being hurled, but she had a feeling she knew the pain they contained.

Gia dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen, toward the sounds. As she turned the corner, her head barely dodged a flying butter dish. It shattered into hundreds of little pieces as it hit the wooden door frame and splattered to the ground.

“How could you do this to me?!” Claire screamed. “I didn't deserve this! You had no right! I hate you!”

A Corning Ware baking dish was launched at the refrigerator, not breaking until it hit the floor, but Gina noticed it left a large dent in the stainless steel door.

“I hate you!”

Wineglass to spice cabinet. Crash.

“I hate you!”

Dinner plate to kitchen island. Smack.

“I hate you!”

Glass measuring cup to tile floor. Bam.

Claire looked around the room, searching for something else to break. From Gia's perspective, there didn't seem to be much left. The cabinet doors all hung open, their contents strewn in tiny pieces over the floor and countertops, as if Claire had stood on the counter and wiped them all out, violently, in one fell swoop.

Then, suddenly, Claire fell to the ground. A marionette with sliced strings.

If Gia had thought she'd heard Claire cry before, she'd been wrong. The crying of the days after the car accident had been sad and grief-filled. Appropriate. Expected. Neat. Yes. That was the word Gia was looking for—
neat.
Claire's weeping had been neat and tidy and could fit snuggly in the box labeled
Grief.

The sounds that came from Claire now were ones Gia had never heard in her entire life. They were the wild cries of an animal. Gutteral. They were dark and black. Catastrophic. Ugly. Macabre.

Gia was embarrassed to be witnessing this very private moment of such raw anguish. It was personal. She had no right to intrude.

Except, Gia knew, she had to intrude. There was no one else to intervene.

She stood, leaning against the wall, watching her very best friend in the whole world purge her sorrow and heartbreak. And then, as quickly as the horror had begun, Claire calmed. The tears continued to flow, but the sounds ceased.

The silence was almost as unnerving as the screams.

Claire lifted herself by the palms of her hands and pushed her torso off the ground. She crawled two feet over to the stove, the way her twins used to when they were getting underfoot in the kitchen. She turned so her bottom was on the ground and leaned her back against the door. Drawing her knees to her chest, she laid her head down and continued to cry.

Gingerly, Gia navigated the minefield of shattered glass—doing her
best to not step on any with her bare feet—and sat down next to her. For a moment, she was unsure whether Claire even knew she was there.

“I'm having a bad night,” Claire said, breaking the silence, her head still on her knees, face to the floor.

Gia surveyed the mess. “Yeah. The mosaic kind of gave you away.”

Claire choked back a sob. “It's just…how can my whole family be dead and I'm
not?
How am I supposed to live in a world where there's no Jack or Luke or Emma or Lily?”

“I don't know.” The response was truthful, though tragically inadequate.

The two friends sat in silence. The weight of the question more than either of them could bear.

Claire lifted her head and looked at Gia, for the first time that night. Her face was red and splotchy. “Do you think there's a God?”

If there was anything Gia hated, it was the topic of religion. If she went on a date and the man instigated such a discussion, their evening would be over before the second course.

But religion and God were two different things in Gia's mind. She had no interest in formal religion, but a belief in a higher power? That was a concept she could get behind.

She sighed and, looking directly at Claire, nodded.

“If there is, why would He take three little children?” Claire asked. “They hadn't even begun to really live. And, if He was going to take them, why did He give them to me in the first place?”

Her eyes bored into Gia, as if she thought, deep down inside of her, Gia might actually have an answer to such a question. There was, of course, no answer, nothing that would make sense of the senseless.

“That's going to be the first thing I ask when I meet Him someday,” Gia said.

“Yeah…me, too.” Claire's voice drifted off, as if her body was present,
but her mind was elsewhere. She shifted her eyes from Gia to somewhere in the distance. Gia glanced over, almost wondering if there was someone outside the back patio door, someone she couldn't see because of the darkness.

“I thought that might be tonight.” Her voice was so tiny, Gia had to lean in to make sure she didn't miss a word.

“What would be tonight?” Gia whispered.

“Meeting God.”

Gia sighed.

“Oh, Claire…”

“I just want the pain to end. I want to be with my family again. I want to
die.”

Gia wanted to scream. To slap Claire. To yell at her and say, “Are you crazy!?” But, she did none of those things; frankly, she couldn't blame Claire. There wasn't anyone on this planet who could fault Claire for those thoughts. There was no worse a loss than the one Claire had experienced. It wasn't only one loss. She'd lost everyone. Everything. What Claire had experienced was worse than death. Passing away, in comparison, would seem like a respite from the world.

And that was exactly what Claire was thinking. Death would be a relief.

“Claire…”

“I came down here looking for a knife. I'd thought about swallowing pills, but I couldn't find any of them.”

Gia was thankful she'd taken proactive steps a few weeks back. She hadn't really thought Claire would try to harm herself. If nothing else, Claire seemed too catatonic to go off in search of pills or a weapon. But then Lucy, the woman who was subbing for the third-grade teacher on maternity leave, had made a comment in the teachers' lounge that had rattled around in Gia's brain until she couldn't stand it any longer.

“If someone killed my entire family, I'd blow my brains out!”

All the teachers had frozen, their sandwiches immobilized in midair. Upon realizing what she'd said and how callous it was, Lucy had tried to recant it, but the words were out there and Gia hadn't been able to forget them.

Luckily, Claire and Jack didn't own any guns, but there were other ways to commit suicide. Gia did some research and found the most typical way for a woman to take her life was to ingest pills. Thus, Gia had cleaned out the medicine cabinet and removed every bottle from Claire's nightstand. She'd shoved the prescriptions under her mattress, knowing if Claire were to attempt to concoct a lethal cocktail, she'd have to move Gia's sleeping body to do it.

“That's because I hid them.”

“Oh.” Claire didn't seem surprised or annoyed or even thankful. The “oh” just lingered in the air of the messy kitchen, like the fog over the Golden Gate Bridge.

“I don't see any blood,” Gia finally said.

“I couldn't do it,” Claire said, her voice bland, as if reading one of her kid's math word problems aloud. “And, the thing is, I don't even know why I couldn't. It's not like I'd be leaving anyone behind.”

Gia's shoulders slumped.

“I know,” Claire continued. “I didn't want to do that to you. I knew it would be a shitty thing to do, especially to have you find me. But…”

Where was Jack?
He'd know what to say. But then, if Jack were here, there'd be no need for this conversation.

“I had a friend once tell me the most powerful prayer he ever read was, ‘Let me not die while I'm still alive.' ”

“I don't even know what that means,” Claire said.

“Don't you?” Gia asked pointedly. “Claire, I have no idea what it feels like to be you. But, if you ask me, I think the only way to get to the other side of the pain is to walk right through it. You can't just
give up on life. Jack and the kids aren't here, but you
are.
And yes, you're the only one here to feel the pain, but maybe once you force yourself to walk through it, you'll feel like you can begin to live again.”

“I don't want to live again.”

Gia put her arm around Claire and pulled her friend close. Claire rested her head on Gia's shoulder. “I know, sweetie. I know. But, if I were going through this kind of hell, I know you'd remind me there's some sort of plan for all this, a bigger picture. I don't know what it is. I certainly can't see it from where we're sitting on this trashed kitchen floor. But there's a plan for your life. That much I do know.”

Claire sat up quickly, a snicker slipping from her lips. “A plan?” she asked, choking over the words. “What kind of plan includes killing my
entire family?”

Gia could see rage blazing in Claire's eyes. She was grateful there wasn't much left to break in the kitchen.

Gia shimmied her body around the floor, so she was in front of Claire on the tile. She grabbed Claire's hands.

“You know how they say, ‘God only knows'? Well, I think that's true. You didn't die that night. You just
didn't.
You may wish you had,
but you didn't.
There's got to be a reason you're still here.”

Claire shook her head.

“Hold on, sweetie,” Gia said, squeezing Claire's hands.

“I don't think I can.” The tears were streaming down Claire's blotchy cheeks.

“Yes, you can,” Gia said, with a certainty that surprised even her. “I have faith in you. You can. And, when you can't, I'll hold on for you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Gia spied a spider crawling through the broken glass on the floor, making its way over and under the slivers. How did it avoid getting hurt with all the jagged pieces surrounding it? How did
anyone
avoid getting hurt in this world? If Gia had learned anything, it was that no one escaped the painful shards
of life unscathed. Some pain was small and some was monumental like Claire's, but it existed for everyone.

If there wasn't a reason for it, she didn't think she could bear to go on, either. She knew for certain, Claire couldn't.

“I love you, Gia,” Claire finally whispered.

“I love you, too,” Gia said, moving back to Claire's side and wrapping her friend in her arms.

Claire wiped at the tears, surveying the room. She'd done some serious damage. “This place is a mess.”

Gia gave her a half-smile. Talk about understatements.

“I'll help you clean it up.”

Claire nodded. Gia waited for her to make some movement to indicate she was ready to get up off the floor, but Claire remained still.

The silence was excruciating, like the torture of Zen meditation.

A sob escaped from Claire. “I just want my babies back.” She laid her head on Gia's lap as she wept. Gia stroked her hair, the way she'd seen Claire do to the soft hair of her babies so many times before.

Babies who would never need their hair caressed again.

For the first time, since she'd heard the news on that terrible night, Gia let the tears cascade down her own cheeks. She owed it to those children—the ones she'd loved as if they were her own—to take care of their mama. She couldn't let anything happen to Claire. But if there was a plan for this whole hideous situation, she definitely hoped it included a Gia-assistance program. How could she handle this weight alone?

And then, with the idea that perhaps she wouldn't have to, Gia closed her eyes and began to pray.

Florida, 2012

“Hold on! Hold on!” Claire called out. She straightened the family photos she'd been dusting on the top of the piano. Heading to the front door, which was shaking from the heavy banging on it, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the hand that held the feather duster.

Unlocking the top bolt, she opened the door. A sweaty and irritated- looking Gia stood on the doorstep.

“What's all the pounding about?” Claire asked.

“I was starting to melt on your doorstep. It must be close to a hundred and ten degrees out here.” Gia strode through the door, making her way past Claire and into the air-conditioned house.

“I think they said it was ninety-four.”

“Whatever.” Gia shrugged, walking into the kitchen as Claire followed behind. “Please tell me you have something to drink.”

“I have ice water.”

“I was hoping for lemonade, but water will do.”

Gia grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the spout on the refrigerator door.

“Did you lose your key?” Claire asked, beginning to wash the few dirty dishes in the sink.

“No,” Gia replied, giving no other explanation as she sat down at the kitchen table and began to flip through the newspaper that was placed on top of it.