Why Did She Have to Die? (4 page)

T
hey went to church together on Sunday. It was strange with just the three of them going. The altar was covered with lilies. Elly watched the light spill through the stained-glass window behind the altar. It covered the flowers with rainbows. The minister smiled at Elly from behind the pulpit. It made her feel self-conscious.

Mr. Rowan fidgeted with his tie and squirmed in his seat. The hymnal looked tiny in his big, calloused hands. After the service, people Elly didn’t even know kept offering their sympathy. By the time they got home, Elly had a terrible headache. Exhausted, she limped up to her room.

It was late afternoon when Elly finally woke up. She lay on her bed for a few disoriented moments. Then she went down the hall, passing Kathy’s room. The door seemed to pull her toward it. Try as she might, she could not walk by without wanting to go inside. Finally, she gave in. Quietly she opened the door to the white and pink bedroom and went inside.

The stillness in the room was eerie. Elly looked around at the familiar objects. Everything was neat and tidy. The bedspread stretched across the bed like a fluffy pink satin cloud. White pillows of eyelet lace nestled in a clump at the headboard. Elly ran her hand up the post at the corner of the bed, feeling the smoothness of the wood.

Kathy’s dresser was still lined with her makeup and perfume bottles. Elly squirted the scent of lavender into the air, and then backed off, afraid that the fragrance might touch her. She couldn’t bear the thought of it clinging to her skin.

Kathy’s CDs and books stood in orderly little stacks. Photographs, taped to the mirror, stared down at Elly. They reminded her of other times, other places—a summer vacation, the Christmas they’d both gotten new bikes, school friends whose names Elly couldn’t remember.

“Elly? Are you all right?”

Elly whirled around at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her heart pounded as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. But her mother’s face looked concerned, not angry.

“I’m fine. I—I just thought I needed to look around.”

“I understand. I haven’t gotten up the strength to go through her things yet.”

Elly saw through a crack in the closet door that Kathy’s clothes still hung in neat color-coded clusters. “What will you do with all of her stuff?”

Mrs. Rowan shrugged. “I want you to take anything you want for yourself. I think we’ll give the clothes away to the church charity fund. The furniture . . . I don’t know yet.”

Given away.
That’s what they were going to do with Kathy. Give her away in bits and pieces. Elly swallowed. “I don’t want anything.”

“It isn’t something you have to decide right now. Someday you’ll be glad you kept some of her things. I took her baby book.”

For a moment, Elly feared that her mother might break down. She pleaded silently,
Don’t, Mom. Please don’t
. Then she asked, “What’s Dad want to keep?”

“He won’t even come into her room.” There was an edge of bitterness in Mrs. Rowan’s voice. “Pretending it never happened won’t make it go away.” Elly realized her mother wasn’t speaking to her, but was saying something about her father.

“I—I think I’d like to go downstairs now.” The walls of the room were closing in on Elly. She felt Kathy’s presence everywhere she looked.

“I’m glad you came to her room, Elly.”

Elly hurried out, stumbling with her crutches and almost falling headfirst into the door. The last thing she remembered before shutting the door was the scent of lavender seeping through the air.

* * * *

Everywhere Elly went in school on Monday, she felt people staring at her. She head them whispering behind her back.
Poor Elly . . . So sad . . . What do I say to her?
She knew they stopped laughing and talking every time she came into a classroom. She lifted her chin and smiled bravely. By lunchtime, her face felt as if it would crack from all of the false smiling.

Kenny Hughes volunteered to get her lunch tray and carry it to the table for her. At one time, this would have sent her soaring into the clouds. Now it only made her nervous and hostile. “I can manage fine.” But balancing the tray and crutches was impossible for her.

“I don’t mind. Any time you need help—”

“I don’t need anybody’s help!” she snapped.

Kenny ducked his head slightly. “Here comes Joy. I’ll see you later.”

Elly watched him scurry off and almost regretted her snippy tone.

“Spare yourself food poisoning and skip lunch.” Joy plopped beside her.

Elly twirled her fork in the unappetizing glob of shredded beef and noodles. “I’m not hungry. I have a headache and I wish this day would hurry up and end.”

“You could call your mom and go home if you wanted.”

“I don’t want to go home either,” Elly said through clenched teeth. “I just want everybody to stop whispering behind my back.”

“Gee, Elly, everybody’s just sorry. We don’t know what to say to you.”

Elly grabbed for her crutches and shoved her chair backward. “I’m getting out of here. I don’t want everybody feeling sorry for me.”

“We can’t help it. We miss Kathy, too.” Joy’s eyes looked misty, and Elly hobbled away from her before she, too, began crying.

In English class, Mrs. Wenzel welcomed Elly back and asked if she thought she could catch up. Elly replied that she could do her work and that she’d done extra reading in the hospital. She tried to pay attention during class, but her mind kept wandering. She doodled on her notebook instead of taking notes. When the bell rang, Elly almost jumped out of her skin. She started toward the door, but Mrs. Wenzel stopped her. “Elly, could you come up here, please?”

She hobbled obediently to the front of the room. She forced a big smile on her face.

“How are you doing, Elly?” Mrs. Wenzel asked.

“Just fine. I think I’ll be ready for your test on Friday.”

“I mean, how are you and your family doing? I spoke to your mother. She tells me it’s been very hard on all of you.”

“I’m okay.” Elly fought down a rising wave of panic. She didn’t want her private feelings spilled all over Mrs. Wenzel’s desk.

“There are support groups, Elly—”

“What?” Elly shuffled her feet. She felt sweat on the grips under her hands.

“Support groups. People who have gone through the same thing your family is going through. Counselors and kids just like you. People who’ve lost someone close to them.”

Elly felt her cheeks flush hot. She didn’t want to be talking about this with Mrs. Wenzel. She didn’t need any support groups and she didn’t want to sit around talking to a bunch of other kids about her dead sister.

“I—I think we’re doing just fine, Mrs. Wenzel. I think it’s nice of you to be concerned for me. But I don’t need anybody else knowing right now. I think the whole world knows already.” She forced another smile.

Mrs. Wenzel gave her such a probing look that Elly was afraid she might crack. She tapped her crutch impatiently. “I really should be going. It takes me longer to get down the hall with these crutches.”

“Of course. But, Elly, I mean it. If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

Elly slipped behind her pasted smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Wenzel,” she said. But inside she thought,
No one can help
.

A
lone in her bedroom before supper, Elly stared long and hard at her reflection in the mirror. She saw dark circles under her eyes. Despite her blush and freshly applied lip gloss, she looked pale and thin. “So, is that the best you can give me?” she asked the mirror in an accusing tone. “Where’s your smile? Where’re your dimples?”

The mirror’s sullen reflection glowered at her.
Ugly
, she thought.
Why does my hair always hang so limp and ugly?
Elly tipped her head and picked up a hank of her hair. It hung in a clump from her fingertips. Memories from the past began flooding her.

“Aw, come on, Elly. Just let me cut some bangs.”

Five-year-old Elly thrust out her lower lip at Kathy. She didn’t want her hair cut. “You’ll make it ugly.”

“I will not. I’m six years old and I know all about cutting hair. Tell you what—if you let me cut your bangs, I’ll let you play with my doll.”

Elly perked. “The doll with the wedding dress?” “And the boy doll, too. You can have a wedding for them.”

Elly looked at her hazel eyes and round cheeks in the mirror. She tried to picture herself with straight bangs. She thought of the beautiful doll that was Kathy’s special favorite. How she’d begged to play with it before! Now Kathy was almost letting her. “Well, if you promise not to poke me with the scissors.”

Kathy gave her a smile. “I’ll be real careful.”

Elly watched as her sister lifted the scissors along with a hank of Elly’s hair. Kathy’s blue eyes danced with delight. The scissors snipped away. Finally, only one tuft of hair was left. It stood straight out from Elly’s forehead. Kathy’s eyes grew wide and she tried to smooth it flat. The stubborn strands refused to obey.

Elly squirmed. “Can I play with your dolls now?”

“I—I guess so.” Kathy quickly slid the scissors intoher dressing table drawer. “Uh—Elly. Do you like your bangs?” Kathy nodded as if to encourage Elly’s approval.

Elly tipped her head from side to side and watched the prickles of her hair bob. “It’s all right. Let’s go show Mom.”

“No, let’s not. You can show Mom and Dad tonight. Let it be a surprise.”

Elly shrugged and wiggled off the chair. “Let me have the dolls, Kathy,” she pleaded.

“Are you going to tell them I cut your hair?”

“But you did cut it.” Elly didn’t understand why Kathy seemed nervous. All Elly wanted was the dolls.

Kathy put her arm around Elly’s shoulders. “Tell you what. If you don’t tell them I cut it, I’ll let you play with my dollhouse, too.”

Elly clapped and giggled. “You will? Oh, Kathy, you’re the bestest sister ever!”

Elly shook off the mood of the memory. She recalled that they’d both been spanked and that it had taken her bangs six months to grow back. But she never forgot the wonderful afternoon she’d spent playing with her sister’s dolls. Now, as her reflection stared back at her, her hair looked particularly unattractive.

“Wonder what it would look like real short?” she asked herself out loud.

A sort of excitement rippled through her as she imagined her hair in short hunks. With a little work, she could make it look very different. She could even dye it afterwards.
Different
. Yes, with a little cutting and coloring, she could look very different.

Elly fumbled in her drawer for the scissors. She stretched a hank of her hair outward and thrust the scissors through the light brown tresses. The cluster fell to the floor.

* * * *

“My goodness! What have you done to yourself?” Mr. Rowan stared in disbelief at his daughter.

Elly felt tears sting her eyes. She knew her hair looked awful. No matter how hard she worked or how much she’d cut, she couldn’t get it to come out right. She raised her chin and looked straight at her father. “It’s not that bad.”

“Bad? You look like a circus freak!”

“Mike!” Mrs. Rowan broke in, stepped to Elly’s side, and squeezed her shoulders. “Let up. I’ll take her to my hairdresser tomorrow afternoon.”

“Let up?” he exploded. “Why would she go out of her way to make herself ugly? Why?”

Elly trembled, not from her father’s anger as much as from her own sense of failure and disappointment. “It’s the latest thing.”

“Be quiet,” Mr. Rowan demanded. “You’d better shape up, young lady. Hasn’t this house been through enough grief without you acting like some weirdo? Cutting your hair like that. What’s the matter with you, Elly?”

Her lips trembled, but she refused to break down in from of him. All at once, she hated her father. She hated the way he’d treated her. “I’m sorry you think I’m ugly. I know I’ve never been pretty and smart.”

“Well, cutting your hair that way certainly wasn’t a very smart thing to do. Now fix it or shave it off and be done with it!” Mr. Rowan gave a disgusted snort and stomped from the room.

Mrs. Rowan turned to Elly and touched her arm. “He didn’t mean it, Elly. He’s just upset and angry. We can fix your hair. But you’ll have to wear a short style. It’ll be cute on you, honey. Wait and see.”

Elly nodded, feeling broken and scattered. Yes, they could fix her hair. But how could they fix what was happening to their family?

* * * *

Elly woke up from a deep sleep startled. She was unsure what had awakened her. Through the darkened house, the sound of whimpering came to her, making her skin prickle. She scooted out of bed and opened her bedroom door cautiously. At the end of the long hallway, she saw a bright line of light from beneath the bathroom door.

Elly inched down the dark hall. Her heart thudded with uneasy dread. She stopped in front of the door, cracked ever so slightly. The sound of muffled crying made her heart pound faster and her mouth go dry.

She shoved the door slightly and it inched open. In the glaring white light of the bathroom, reflected in the mirror, she saw her father. He stood against the white-tiled wall, his hands covering his face. His body was shaking with racking sobs.

For a few moments, Elly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Fathers don’t cry. They are big and strong and brave. And her father was the strongest of all. Elly remembered the time he’d been hurt in a construction accident. He’d been in terrible pain, but he hadn’t even complained, let alone cried.

She wanted to say,
Don’t cry, Daddy! I’m so sorry I cut my hair. Please don’t cry.
But instead, she pressed her back against the wall and hid in the shadows. She didn’t want her father to see her or to know that she’d seen him. She knew it would embarrass both of them.

Elly padded swiftly back down the hall to the safety of her room. Her teeth chattering, she burrowed under the covers. She hugged her pillow to her chest, trying to push aside the memory of her father’s tears. “It’s my fault,” Elly told herself. “It’s all my fault.” If only she hadn’t cut her hair. He had so much on his mind. Now she’d made it worse for him.

She stared straight up at the bare ceiling. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she said into the darkness. “I’m so sorry.”