Double Tears
Chapter 145
“We raised our glasses and drank. It didn’t taste good but it tasted necessary.”
—Nathan Everett, Municipal Blondes
I SWAM UP into consciousness and tried to will myself back to the land of bliss. I wasn’t ready to meet what was waiting for me. My first conscious thought was simply, “Pey.” She wasn’t yet eleven years old and she was gone. I’d known her only two and a half years and she was gone. She wasn’t finished with fifth grade and she was gone. If I ever found those bastard powers that be, I’d do my best to kill them all.
I sensed hands before I actually felt them in mine. They could apparently tell I was waking up because they both squeezed. There was nothing I could do but sigh and let my eyes crack open. Rachel and Beca sat on either side of my bed holding my hands. Their eyes were bloodshot, witness to their own sorrow. These two had probably spent more time with my little sister than any of my other girlfriends had. They were my first study partners at the dining room table… with Pey.
I looked at them through the water in my eyes.
“Is it true?” I whispered, hoping they would just ask what was true but they both nodded their heads. “It’s not supposed to be like that,” I whined. “Peyton lived to be sixty-five. She can’t die fifty-five years too soon.” Beca and Rachel were the only ones I’d told the truth to about my previous life. They understood better than anyone could what I was talking about.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Rachel said. She leaned over to kiss me gently, our lips a salty mix of tears. When she pulled away, Beca took her place. She cuddled her head against my cheek without saying anything. A nurse came into the room and I wondered if the girls had called her when I woke up. I didn’t see a button handy.
“Good morning, Mr. Hopkins,” the nurse said calmly. “How are you doing this morning?”
“Was something wrong with me that having my little sister back wouldn’t cure?” I sniped at her.
“I’m sorry to say, no. You had a rather nasty blow to the head, but I’m not seeing signs of concussion. Only grief and we can’t fix that for you, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I guess I should just go home then,” I said, struggling to sit up. I flopped back down. “Except I don’t have a home anymore, do I?”
“Your father sat up most of the night with you and your mother. He’s in the room next door with her. With the help of these two loving women next to you, can you wait for him to wake up? He’s… Your parents are… Jacob, you aren’t the only one grieving,” she said. I wondered if this was a special kind of nurse that dealt with shock and grief. It wasn’t possible to get angry with her and if I did, I thought she wouldn’t be moved at all to fight back.
“Can I sit up?”
“Certainly.” She busied herself elevating the head of my bed. The last time I was in one of these, I couldn’t move my arms or leg and my ribs hurt like hell. I lifted a hand and felt the knot on my head. Damned rescue crew could have been a little more careful since they were worthless anyway. Soon I was sitting up. “Now, is there anything you need that I can get you?” I started to snap back at her that she could bring me my sister and held my tongue. She didn’t deserve that.
“Coffee?” I asked. She nodded.
“I’ll be back soon.” Yeah, she had to be some kind of special nurse. She checked the IV bag and disconnected it, leaving the cannula in the back of my hand. She promised that would come out as soon as the doctor okayed it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t… talk… Not yet,” I whispered to my girlfriends.
“You don’t need to say anything until you’re ready,” Rachel said. “We’ll be here. We can talk or just stay quiet if you want.”
I buried my face in Beca’s hair and squeezed Rachel’s hand. They would be here with me.
I had a continuous headache. I couldn’t tell if it was from the blow I took or from the crying. My throat was sore. Otherwise, I was pretty much just numb. After hearing my stomach growl, the nurse made sure I got some food, too. Just cold cereal and fruit, but I didn’t taste it anyway. I guess I hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day.
“You two need to go to school,” I said. “I’ll be okay.” They just shook their heads.
“We need to be with you,” Beca said. “It’s where we belong. We’ll go to the airport and meet Emily with you.”
“She can come?”
“They allow bereavement leave in the case of parent or sibling death,” Rachel said. “It’s not much but she’ll be here for the… memorial.”
Memorial. She’ll be here for the funeral. Then she’ll have to go back to fucking Kansas by herself. I thought maybe I should drop out for the rest of the term and go with her so she wasn’t alone. I’m sure that would go over big.
“We’re going to go look at the house, son,” Dad said as he came up to me in the hall. Mom was sitting in a wheelchair. I’d simply refused to wait for one. “There are so damn many calls and arrangements to be made. We need to see what is salvageable and make arrangements and find a place to live. I don’t know what we’ll do. We’ve lost everything.”
Everything. Nothing seemed important next to losing Pey.
Footsteps approached from down the hall and I looked up to see Nanette approaching. She had workout clothes on but wore her hospital ID around her neck. She came straight to me and hugged me—a hug she held for long enough that I finally relaxed into her arms.
“John,” she said to my father, “I drove by this morning and saw but I didn’t know about Peyton until I got here. I’m so sorry. Please, come to live with me while you get things straightened out. I have plenty of room for you and Mary and you’ll be near where you’re needed.”
“Well, Jacob…”
“John, Jacob can sleep with me. Or if you prefer to have more quiet privacy, I’m sure we can both go out to Donna’s for the time being. Please take this so you don’t have that to worry about,” she said.
“Thank you, Nanette. That is a huge worry off our minds.”
Shortly we were all checked out and headed over to what remained of our house. If you stood right in front of it, you couldn’t tell there was anything wrong. But just behind the façade, the tree had pulled everything in on it where it fell across the middle of the house. It looked possible that we could get things out of the garage, the living room, and kitchen, but the bedrooms were demolished. I walked around the house to my own bedroom, still cuddled and comforted by my girls. I could see straight across the rubble to where I’d crawled in to reach Pey and they’d cut through everything to get us out. I could still hear her voice. Nearer to me was my bedroom. If I’d been sleeping in my bed, I wouldn’t be worried about anything right now. I’d be gone, too. There in the middle of my bed was the broken remains of my guitar.
It was too much. That final nail in the coffin. Too much to bear. I crumpled and my beautiful girlfriends knelt and wept beside me.
If I was seventy or eighty, I’d lay a kindly hand on my shoulder in sympathy. Then I’d say something like, ‘Life’s unpredictable.’ I’d think for at least a second about the people I’ve lost and then I’d continue. ‘You need to not dwell on it. You have responsibilities. Your family needs you. You need to be strong for them. Stop your crying now and act like a man. You need to get hold of yourself and help the family.’
Right. The seventeen-year-old in me told him to shut the fuck up! What did he ever know about love and family? What does he know about grief? He hardly knew his sisters. He didn’t even cry for Renie. Sanctimonious bastard! Get the fuck out of my head!
Maybe we feel more when we are young. Is that the only answer? I thought it was just experience and the callousness of the world that made me feel emotions less strongly when I was an old man. But maybe it is something physical in our bodies that dies with each passing year and hardens our hearts lest we crumple under the burden of our lives.
Certainly, standing with Rachel and Beca in the airport waiting for Emily to get off the plane, the enormous emotional weight of sorrow crushed me. She would hate me. I let our sister die. How could I let her die?
She came through the doors from the tarmac and spotted us. I could see the bloodshot eyes and tracks of tears on her cheeks from across the barrier. As soon as she was clear of the security gate, she ran and threw her arms around me. And with Beca and Rachel holding the two of us, we stood in the middle of the airport and cried.
I’m sure that to a passerby we looked like we could be a strange batch of siblings mourning a passing parent. How could they tell we were lovers and mates mourning the loss of a piece of our souls?
I was thankful for Rachel driving. Beca sat up front with her and I held Em in the back seat as we headed to Nanette’s house where Mom and Dad were trying to piece together our lives without a home and without our sister. When we got there, a subtle shift occurred as Rachel and Beca kissed us before they left and Nanette and Livy took over as our strength and support.
Through the rest of the afternoon, people stopped by as word spread through our community and our extended family. Bert and Dee Evans, Rachel’s parents, were almost constantly by my parents’ side. My girlfriends switched on and off. Other parents brought enough food to feed us all for a week.
They stood with us outside our home and talked to the insurance company about salvaging our personal items. Of course, the insurance company just wanted to bulldoze everything so there was no risk of injury but that was just a starting position. When Randall Dayton, Livy’s dad, got hold of them, they started putting together a sensible plan.
“Kids, we love having you with us. Thank you, Nanette, for offering us shelter,” Mom said. “With so many people coming in and out, why don’t you kids all go out to Donna’s. I know you need to be with your family, too.”
Our family. My mother had been one of our fiercest supporters as we formed our pod, even negotiating with other parents. Jamie Brown and the Adamses were sitting with them after dinner and Mom just recognized us as having our own family to deal with and be close to. Sophie thumbed her phone and then nodded to me. Apparently, she’d already contacted Donna. At least I had some clothes at Donna’s house. I only had a toothbrush and some underwear at Nanette’s.
Sophie drove Brittany and Desi, who were with us. Nanette said she’d meet us after she was sure the folks were settled in okay. Em tossed her overnight bag in the truck and I drove us out to the farm while she leaned against me in the front seat. We didn’t… couldn’t say anything.
By eight o’clock, all our pod but Joan had gathered. When Betty brought Cindy out to the farm, she’d stopped and hugged me for a long time. I know… I could tell whenever I looked at one of the parents… she was imagining that it had been one of her own precious children. When she released me and whispered to let her know if there was anything she could help with, Cindy hugged me fiercely. Betty hugged each of our mates and left us.
Donna brought three bottles of wine out and poured glasses for all of us, ignoring completely who was of age and who wasn’t. We raised our glasses in silent homage to Peyton Hopkins, age ten years, nine months, and four days. It was a bitter drink.
She sent Em, Rachel, Beca, and me to her bedroom. Our girlfriends sandwiched the two of us between them just holding us as we tried to go to sleep.
“I’m so sorry, Em. I let her die. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Shh. It wasn’t your fault. At least you were there with her. She didn’t die alone.”
“I told her I wouldn’t let go. I collected all the strands of her thin thread in my hands as I tried to keep her warm. As I lied to her about never letting go. And then the threads all dissolved and were gone. Vanished. They just disappeared as I was holding them. I kept talking to her, telling her about all the wonderful things we were going to do. Telling her we’d visit you in July and bring you home. Telling her we’d be running together this summer. Telling her about how the rescuers were near. I was in there for hours with her, Em, and they told me she’d been dead since soon after I got there. I thought I held the strands of her life together and if I just kept talking, she’d suck them back in and be alive again. I didn’t let go. I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. I know what you felt, Jacob. I watched the threads of your life disappear from my hands,” she said. “There was nothing I could do.”
“What? But you pulled me back. You never let go. You’ve always been my anchor.”
“J, shh. I’ve always known you aren’t my brother.”
The three of us were stunned to silence as I heard a creak of floorboards settling as the night cooled. Em had known? Always?
“But… That’s… I’m…”
“Don’t explain. I don’t want to know who you were. I held my brother’s hand while the strings of his life faded out. I know he died in that hospital. Then suddenly you were there. I was confused but so happy my brother was back. You were with me and I just lost myself in the joy of not losing all of you. But you asked strange questions. What date is it? Not just the day, but the year. Would Francine get kicked out of school because she was pregnant? Then there was the inexplicable way I felt attracted to you and was willing to do things that a sister wouldn’t do. And how easy it was to crawl in bed naked with you. It was like the desires we’d always had were still there but there were no longer any barriers. And I finally let it all go just before I entered service and crawled into your bed to make love. And that time—when your heart stopped—I gathered up the threads of your life and pounded them back into your chest. So, whoever you are, you’ve made my brother into a temple where I come to worship. And I love you. Peyton’s death was not your fault.”
Tears streamed down my face. Em kissed them away and then found my lips to kiss as Beca and Rachel held us. We didn’t make love. We just held each other and held our girlfriends as we went to sleep.
“So, you don’t like your life? You’re ready to end it?” the voice said in my head. I breathed deeply to test my lungs. No, I wasn’t dead and standing before the powers that be. I was dreaming. Perhaps I was here to visit Pey. Or maybe just to bring my accusations before whoever the fuck these creatures were.
“I like my life. I want to live.”
“You’re sure? You seem weighed down by grief and tragedy. We could nudge things to create an embolism where you were hit in the head. You’d die in your sleep.”
“No! I don’t want to die. I want my sister back.”
“Her body is too far gone to put her back in it. It couldn’t live to support her.”
“Why? Why did you take her away? She wasn’t supposed to die. She lived to sixty-five.”
“We don’t control the world. Any of them. What happens in your life is a combination of what you cause and random events like weather. We told you when we sent you back that you could die tomorrow of a different cause. We don’t control your timeline.”
“Can you give Pey another chance? I just… she shouldn’t have died so soon. I hardly got to know her.”
“How well did you know your sister in what you call your V1 life?”
Fuck. It hardly registered that I had a younger sister when V1 grew up. When I left home, I never looked back. She was mad at me when I didn’t attend Emily’s funeral and didn’t speak to me again. Not that we’d spoken often before. I didn’t bother to go to her funeral. I was seventy-two years old and living in Arizona for the winter. It was too much trouble for someone I didn’t…
“I didn’t really know her.”
“And here you are in this life with two-and-a-half years of knowing and loving a wonderful little girl. Two-and-a-half years of knowing and loving versus sixty-five years of being strangers. That’s not so bad, Jacob.”
I recognized they were right. The short time I’d spent with her was still longer than I’d really known her in V1. I just felt like she’d been cheated. I’d been cheated.
“I have another question.”
“Of course you do. You’re seventeen. Life is made of questions.”
“In this timeline, was I Joseph Hennessey?”
“You found out about a man whose life coincided with your V1 life. He wore the same size hat. Maybe you were the same build with the same hair color and the same number of children. But were you the same person? You lived in a different reality from Joseph Hennessey.”
“But so many things are the same.”
“The possibility of a coincidence occurring at any given time is always 100%.”
“Sage. Why are you having this conversation with me?”
“We’re not. You’re having this conversation with you. It’s your dream.”
I swear, the fuckers laughed at me and vanished. I felt Em’s fingers enclose mine and heard her whisper, “It’s just a dream, J. Just a dream.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
