Elijah opened up a can of potted meat and green beans and put them on the ground in front of him side-by-side. He produced two beat up tin plates and two plastic spoons.
"It might not be four-star restaurant quality, but it will take the hunger pangs away," he said sheepishly.
"I'm definitely grateful that you have this out here. I turn into a real bear when I'm hungry. I wouldn't want you to see that."
"Trust me, I've seen some things that are worse than anything that you could ever imagine."
The way that he said that chilled my bones. It was almost as if a dark cloud had descended down over his head. Whatever it was, it was enough for him to feel like he needed to go out into a cave and try to forget about it.
He heaped a few spoonfuls from each can onto a tin plate and handed it to me. I took it graciously and began eating it. It was cold and didn't taste all that great. But, I smiled and thanked him anyway. I wanted him to know that I really did appreciate the effort he was making.
"So, tell me about these nightmares," said Elijah, wiping gravy away from his mouth with his sleeve.
I stared down at my plate trying to figure out how exactly to begin.
"It's a long story..." I said, turning my head and looking away from him.
"It's okay," he said, winking. "We've got a little time."
I laughed. He put his hand on mine, encouraging me to continue.
"To understand my nightmares, you would have to know the situation between my parents..."
As I began to tell him the story, my mind went back to what I call the day that changed my life.
I had been at the shopping mall to pick up new headphones so that I could listen to music on my phone. I had found some really nice ones. I was excited because they were on sale, so I was able to get them plus a new pair of tennis shoes that I really liked.
I walked in all proud of myself. I went to my parent's bedroom, eager to tell my mother about my shopping win and found her running around their bedroom stuffing clothes into a giant suitcase that was becoming fuller as she gathered up handfuls of clothes and threw them on top of the suitcase. She looked frantic, like she was afraid of something.
"Mom! What's going on? What's wrong?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, hung her head, and turned to face me.
"What's wrong?" I asked again. My mother had always been the glue that held out family together. She was soft spoken and accommodating. I couldn't remember her and my father even having so much as a fight. I couldn't fathom what was happening and I needed for her to help me understand.
"Honey, I'm leaving your father."
The words seeped into my brain like venom. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't see this coming at all.
She sighed deeply, walked over to me, and held my face in her hands.
"This might be too much for you to understand right now. Maybe once you get older, you might understand. Your father and I have not been happy for a very long time. Your father doesn't care, either. He is fine with just coexisting with each other. Me, I want passion. I want the same things that he talked about when we were dating. I want that exciting man back that I dated all those years ago. I can't remember when life stopped being fun."
I looked at my mother, a nervous, frail woman. She had gotten thinner in the last few years. She was really beginning to show her age. I hadn't looked at her the way that I did that day. I saw a tired woman, a woman so desperate that she would be willing to do anything for tiny corner of happiness. I guess I had been so caught up in my own world to notice that she wasn't happy. Things were just so normal at home I hadn't thought about my mother as a woman with needs that I couldn't quite comprehend yet since I have never been with a man. I thought that my throat was going to close up as I told Elijah the story.
"It's okay," he said softly, reassuring me to continue.
My tongue felt thick in my mouth and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep talking. I tried to talk and choked on sobs that I didn't know were about to come out.
"It's all my fault!" I said remorsefully.
"What is?" said Elijah, confused.
So, I told him the rest of the story.
"I tried to talk her out of leaving, not necessarily for my dad, but for me. My dad and I didn't exactly have the worst relationship, but it certainly wasn't the best, either. I didn't know what would happen if she left. For as long as I could remember, she had always been the one to make things work in our lives. I have vivid memories of my father sitting on the end of the bed waiting for my mom to bring him a pair of socks.
She told me that she had to leave right away. I begged her to let me come with her. She refused, saying that she didn't really have all of the details worked out yet. But she promised to come back for me as soon as she could. I cried and told her that I didn't want to wait and that I didn't care where we went, as long as I could be with her.
She caressed my face and smiled. She kissed me on my forehead and brushed back loose curls that had fallen over my eyes.
“I know that you don't understand, but I am doing this for you just as much as I am doing it for me. I want you to always remember that you have to go after what you love and what makes you happy. Don't settle for a life that isn't the best life that you can have, of your own design. And if ever you feel that you are stuck or unhappy, run. Run as fast and as far as you can until you don't feel that stuck feeling anymore. If you don't remember anything that I say to you honey, please remember that.”
She slammed her suitcase shut, told me that she loved me, and disappeared quickly out the front door.
That was the last time that I would ever see her. Alive, that is. She got into a really bad car crash and died instantly. My heart was ripped to shreds. I loved my mom so much. And the worst part about it is my father was completely heartbroken. I had never see him cry up until that point. The way that he cried tore me apart. He seemed so lost. He would go between blankly staring and crying.
At her funeral, everyone said very nice things about my mother. They called her an angel and talked about how she always made everyone feel welcome and loved. They were right.
There was a man there that I didn't know. When the ceremony was over he came up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and told me that he had something to tell me. I was curious as to what he had to say, so I walked out of the funeral home and talked to him.
”My name is Jean,” he said, nervously. “I didn't know if I should reach out to you, but I figured that I would rather say something than not. Your mother was coming to meet me the night that she got into the accident. She and I had been seeing each other for a few years. The reason that I wanted to tell you that is because I believe that she was going to tell your father about us.”
“So, why are you telling me now? And at her funeral of all places!”
I was livid! I understand that it was my mother's choice to be with this man, but I certainly did not have to stand there at her funeral while I was grieving and listen to this. And I absolutely wasn't about to let this man upset my father any more than he already was.
“Look sir, I appreciate what you trying to do in keeping my mother's wishes and memories alive, but I think that you need to just go away.”
“I see,” said Jean, hanging his head turning to walk away.
“One last thing,” I said. “The next time that you feel that you want to ruin your dead girlfriend's funeral, please don't.”
I knew that my words were mean, but I didn't care. He was rude and inappropriate and what he told me wasn’t the right time or right place.
The night that my mother left, she made me promise that I wouldn't say anything to my dad until long after she was gone. I was hesitant because I didn't want to have to be the one to tell him. But more than that, I didn't want to take any part in breaking my father's heart. I had never really seen him upset, but I'm sure that knowing that his world was being turned upside down would have been enough to upset him, at the very least.
So, I didn't tell him. And when he cried out, asking where she had been going begging for answers, I felt so guilty. I felt like I personally had something to do with her death. No, I wasn't the person who killed her, but I had more information on what was going on than anyone. And now that her boyfriend had come forward with more details, I had even more information.
But I would never tell him. I vowed that I would never tell him. I would just do my best to be a good daughter and hope that he will somehow come to terms with the fact that his wife was gone. Anything more and god knows what kind of strain it would put on him.
I thought that he was going to figure it out one day because about a week after she left, he called me and asked me if I knew where their old suitcase was. “
Why are you looking for it?”' I asked curiously.
“Oh, I just noticed it was gone. It's been in our closet for years and it's not there anymore.”
“I think mom donated it to Salvation Army like a week ago.” I lied. “Mom had me drop off a load and if I remember correctly, the suitcase may have been in the donation pile.”
He paused like he was processing what I was saying.
“You can't remember if you dropped off a huge suitcase?” he asked.
“No, dad. It was a crazy week for me. I was trying to figure some things out with the kids that I work with, so I really wasn't focused on what she told me to donate. I just made sure that it got where she told me to take it.”
“Ok.” he said, hanging up the phone.
I hung up and blew out a huge breath. My heart was beating fast and my palms were sweating. I felt like I was doing something wrong to my dad, but I also felt like I had to keep my mother's memory pure and untainted. I couldn't imagine what he would feel like if he knew that my mother had been running away with her boyfriend the night that she’d been killed.
She had been killed by a drunk driver. I wondered what she had been thinking in those final moments right before she was hit. Had she been thinking about me? Did she consider what her choice was going to mean for her only daughter? I tried to tell myself that she really had been thinking of me and not selfishly thinking of herself.
I was awake many nights beating myself up. I felt like I should have tried harder to convince my mother not to leave, to make her stay. Then maybe she would still be alive. Maybe we wouldn't have had to bury her and say goodbye forever. Even though I had promised my mother that I wouldn't say anything, I keep thinking: should I have said something to my dad and perhaps he would have stopped her from leaving? Would he have been able to talk her out of it? Would that have caused the first argument that I would ever remember them having? There were so many different scenarios that I was working out in my mind that I was on the verge of driving myself crazy.
Would my dad have mourned her the way that he did for the past five years if he knew that she had been unfaithful and had been planning to leave him? Not only was she planning it, she acted upon that plan and left him. Would he have felt that she got what she deserved?
I shuddered at the thought. No, I knew that it was better for my father to believe that she was gone and that they stayed on good terms. There was nothing that could be done to change things anyway. That's why I was so eager to dismiss Jean, my mother's boyfriend who showed up to her funeral. Nothing was going to taint my mother's memory as long as I had something to say about it."
Elijah stroked his beard, pondering on everything that I had said.
After a while, he finally spoke.
"Well, it seems to me that you need to have an honest conversation with your father and tell him the truth."
I didn't expect him to say that.
"Why tarnish my mother's memory? There's nothing that can be done about it now."
"No nothing can be done to change the facts of what happened. But you are holding on to guilt about the situation. And both of you have been grieving so much. Sharing the information that you have with him could be a key part in helping both of you to heal."
I thought about what he said. Maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. I would love to release the heavy load that was weighing me down. I just didn't want to do it at the risk of breaking my father's heart. Losing my mother had already done a great job of that.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I would tell him, but I just don't want him to think I’ll of my mother."
"It's okay," he said, reaching his arms around me in a big hug. It felt nice nestled in his arms. As he held me, I started to get turned on again. I wanted him so bad. I couldn't get enough of him. He was so sexy and he fulfilled me in ways I never thought were possible.
I had escaped from my life with my dad to deal with my guilt. Being here with Elijah was just what I needed to be able to face my guilt and fears.
I was both hopeful and curious about what was going to happen next with this welcoming cabin man.