Excerpt from The Seat Beside Me
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind. ECCLESIASTES 1:14
I don't want to go. Dora Roberts tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and flipped through her mail, quickly setting it aside. She was too tired to deal with bills and solicitations now. She’d do it when she got back. I really don’t want to go. It wasn't that she didn't like visiting her mother in Phoenix, but Dora had just been home for Christmas the month before, and her bank account was strained by two plane flights spaced so closely together—especially this latest flight that had been booked at the spur of the moment, costing her a bundle. And yet, how could she not be there when her mother went in for gallbladder surgery? A painful flare-up had sent her mother to the doctor for tests and a quickly scheduled surgery. If only it had happened while I was down at Christmas... Dora closed her eyes against the selfish thought and shucked off her shoes. Her mother was all alone in the world except for her. Daddy gone. Dora, an only child. It was her responsibility to be there whenever she was needed, even if it was financially draining. Even if it had made her stay at the office of the Chronicle until nearly midnight, getting her work done so she could— The phone rang, sending her heart to her toes. She glanced at the clock on her microwave. It was nearly twelve-thirty. No call at this time of night could be good news. "Yes?" "Dora, you don’t have to come! You don’t have to come!" "Mom? What are you talking about?" "I've been trying to call you and call you. Didn't you get my messages?" Dora glanced at the answering machine. The message light was blinking. "I just got home from the office. I didn't think to listen." She’d gotten off track. "What’s your message?" "I don’t have to have the surgery! It all started yesterday when I did a no-no and ate pizza. You know how hard it is for me to resist pizza, and so I had it for lunch knowing the pain would come. But then it didn't. And that was so remarkable, and I felt so good that I got my doctor to do another ultrasound. And am I ever glad I did. The ultrasound revealed there was nothing there. No blockage. No problem." "But the previous ultrasound—?" "The doctor doesn't have an explanation for it. One day it was there and I needed surgery, the next day it wasn't and I didn't. He didn't have an explanation, but I do. We do." Dora’s thoughts had taken the same path as her mother’s. "You think it’s a God-thing, Mom? You think God healed you?" "What other explanation is there?" "Perhaps they merely made a mistake." "It was my innards in both those ultra-sounds, Dora." "Perhaps the doctor read them wrong?" "Even I could see the difference." "Or maybe—" "Dora. Dear child, I’m ashamed of you. Quit trying to explain away a miracle. You've been praying for me, haven’t you?" "Of course." "And I've been praying, and I know a lot of people at church have been praying. It’s a miracle, and nothing you say can prove it otherwise. But the bottom-line blessing is that you don’t have to rush back down here. "I really don’t mind," Dora said, hoping it was at least partially true. "I know you don’t. You’re a good daughter. But I also know money is tight and you’re swamped at the paper. Didn't you say so at Christmas?" "Yes, but—" "Well, now you don’t have to come. Save your money and come down later in the spring, like we’d planned." A wave of relief flooded over her. "Are you positive?" "Absolutely. Now get to bed. You've got to get up to go to work in a few hours. "Thanks, Mom. You know I love you." "And I love you too. But the thanks? I didn't do anything. God did. So thank Him, all right?" Dora hung up the phone and did exactly that. 11:30 A.M. "It’s good you’re leaving." Merry Cavanaugh coughed at her husband’s statement. "It is?" Lou turned the van into the terminal entrance leading to Sun Fun Airlines. Snow pummeled the windshield. "Sure. I know how close you were to Teresa in college. How long has it been since you've seen her?" Merry was disappointed Lou was oblivious to her real reason for leaving. "She was here after Justin was first born." "She’s still single, right?" "She’s a vice president in her company." Merry said it as if one fact had something to do with the other. "That’s too bad—the single part, that is. I bet she’s jealous of you." Merry lifted an eyebrow. "I don’t think—" "She sees you living the ideal life with a husband who adores you and a fantastic little boy who likes nothing better than to climb on your lap and give you a hug. What does she have?" Merry took a breath to answer, but Lou continued. "She has a stressful job and a lonely house. Thanks, but no thanks." No thanks? Are you crazy? Merry looked to the Sun Fun entrance coming up on their right. She only had a few moments before she was free. And yet she longed to let him have it, make him understand how she really felt. Lou was so clueless sometimes. Her chest heaved; her hands gripped and regripped the handles of the carry-on bag in her lap. The awful truth threatened. Lou looked over at her and smiled. "You are so beautiful. Did you know that?" She hugged the door to get as far away from the words as she could. The fight left her—as it usually did when he said nice things. Maybe it was better he was ignorant to reality. After the trip…after she’d had time to think things through and get Teresa’s advice... The truth was, if she brought it all up now, he might not let her go. "Here we are." Lou pulled up front, the tires slipping on the snow-covered street. He got out of the van to get her suitcase. Merry put her hood up, got out, opened the side door, and gave Justin a hug. "I’m going to miss you, sweetie." In spite of everything, it was the truth. "I’ll miss you too, Mommy. Daddy says he has a surprise for me." "He does?" "I hope he’s taking me to McDonald’s for breakfast. Do you think that’s it?" "Sure. I bet that’s it." Merry gave her son a kiss and closed the door against the snow. She waved good-bye through the window. Lou appeared at her side, suitcase in tow. The weather would prevent a lengthy good-bye. Just as well. "Have a good trip, Mer. Love you." She accepted his hug and kiss. "Love you too." It was the truth. But not all the truth. Merry hurried inside the terminal and removed her coat, brushing away the flakes that melted in the heated building. She rolled her suitcase to the check-in line and allowed herself a deep breath. I’m alone. Finally alone. No husband. No son. No plan except to have fun and remember what life was like before a family had tied her down with responsibilities. Twenty-nine was too young to feel so old. She felt absolutely decadent, even though part of the thrill had been dampened by the fact that Lou wanted her to go, urged her to go. When her old college chum had invited her, Merry was afraid to even mention the idea to her husband, and yet, when she did, he jumped on the plan, even offering to dip into their meager savings to fund the trip. At first she was suspicious. Why does he want me gone? But she soon tossed such ridiculous notions away. Above all else, Lou could be trusted. Lou was true-blue, honest, hardworking, kind, generous, loyal... Everything she was not. But maybe a little time away would change all that. Maybe she was so down about her life because it was so disgustingly normal and routine. Maybe she was simply having a case of thirtyitis. Had her twenties been all she’d wanted them to be? Although she’d always wanted to be a mother, Merry thought it would be more...rewarding. Like in the TV commercials with the ever patient mother, ruffling the naughty son’s hair while she gave him a forgiving smile. Always under control, always smiling, always fulfilled. Life didn't work that way. Although she loved her family, she often found herself on the verge of strangling them—at least in theory. When Justin had gotten into Merry’s brand-new eye shadow, putting water in it, using it like watercolor paints, or when he had scribbled on the walls with red crayons, Merry never considered ruffling his hair and smiling. Not once. And those women who pined for their man to come home, whose hearts beat a little faster at the sound of their husband’s car? As often as not, Merry was relieved when Lou left in the morning, and her stomach grabbed ever so slightly when he returned. Not because she didn't love him, but because he thought so much of her—was constantly telling her what a wonderful wife and mother she was—she felt obligated to try to live up to his opinion. When he was home she couldn't let down her guard and be herself. She was way too flawed. Lou deserved better. And she deserved... She thought of Teresa and Phoenix and four days of fun, sun, and free— An announcement came over the loudspeakers. "We’re sorry, folks, but the airport has been temporarily shut down due to the blizzard. Please continue to check in and remain at your gates until further notice. Hopefully we’ll begin boarding soon, and your delay will be as short as possible. Thank you for your patience." Merry joined the groans of those around her. Apparently the fun and sun would have to wait.
Suzy lifted her father’s suitcase from the trunk of the car. "This is heavy. I thought you were only going for a few days." George stifled a laugh. If only Suzy knew what was in the suitcase. The only reason it had any weight at all was so she wouldn't be suspicious. At the last minute George had scooped up two drawerfuls of Irma’s things and dumped them in the suitcase for weight, adding as an afterthought his favorite framed picture of her. Of the women’s clothing, a picture, and the pills, the pills were the only things that were a necessity. Suzy closed the trunk and hurried to her father’s side. She kissed him on the cheek. "Have a good trip, Dad. Stan and I think it’s wonderful you’re going. You and Mom loved to travel. It’s good you’re back at it again. Seven months is a long time." Seven months, two days, and seven hours to be exact. And he wasn't getting back to anything. His life was winding down and he had no intention of grabbing any key to wind it up again. George hugged her longer than usual. This will be my last hug. He didn't let the thought linger but, with a final wave, hurried into the terminal and took a place at the check-in line. He’d check in, get to Phoenix, then check out. Literally. George had big plans. Once he was settled into their favorite condo in Sun City, he would visit some of his and Irma’s old haunts—to say good-bye. Then he would take matters into his own hands. Fun, sun, and suicide. Bon voyage, adios, auf Wiedersehen, arrivederci, sayonara. Soon, Irma, soon. But then what? What happened after death? Would there be an angelic chorus to greet him for the good things he’d done in his life? Or the devil’s jury to condemn him for his last act of desperation? Was it desperation? He didn't feel desperate. Only weary as if the air itself was too heavy to deal with. How could he be expected to go on living when breathing had become a burden? Planning his suicide hadn't been easy; he tried to think of everything, but why did every moron on earth have to come into his presence these last few days? First it was the stupid travel agent who booked him in coach when he specifically asked for first class. Then his cleaning lady got all suspicious about why George had canceled her services. Then his lawyer made a huge to-do about his wanting to update his will. So what if George wanted to cut the church out of the bequests? Things had changed. It was his money, and he could toss it to the wind if he wanted to. People needed to mind their own business. The final straw was the fiasco at the bank where he’d gone to withdraw all his money—all $68,392 of it. They acted as flustered as firemen forced to start a fire. Withdraw money? Oh no, no, no, no, no. He wondered if they even knew the difference between a Czech and a check. They were such a pain about it that he considered asking for it in ones, but he relented, not wanting to give the poor teller a heart attack. But no matter. The money was now sitting in a desk drawer with a note to their daughter. Now that Suzy and her husband were taken care of, George could take this one last trip—in Irma’s honor...(continued) Copyright 2002 Nancy Moser Multnomah Publishers |
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