chapter
14
There had to be a hundred people here. At least that’s how it felt as I listened to the laughter that filled my house. The sound of my sons arguing on the back patio. My daughter and daughter-in-law in the kitchen, laughing as they baked and shared gossip. And then my grandkids, who ran across the living room as if they had no home training. The only one acting like he had any sense was my grandson Jeremiah, who sat in his usual spot on the end of the sofa, headphones on, drowning out the noise as he played on some handheld video game.
Yes, it seemed like a hundred people were here.
In reality, though, there were only about twenty. But that was more stimulation than my seventy-nine-year-old mind could handle. I longed for the silence that I had been encased in for the past six weeks—before my children decided that they needed to celebrate my birthday today. They just didn’t understand. I had no desire to celebrate my birthday anymore, especially since my beloved wife, Elizabeth, died one year ago today. Why my kids had the cockamamie idea that a party on the day I lost my soul mate was the answer to my grief was beyond me.
Stop being a pessimist.
I heard Elizabeth’s words in my head. And that brought a smile to my face. She used to always complain about how much of a grouch I could be. I didn’t used to be that way. Old age had brought with it a shorter temper. Right now, though, if I could just get Elizabeth back, I would never utter a grouchy word again.
“Hey, Dad. You sure you don’t want a beer?”
I thought about taking a beer just so that my youngest son, Cole, would quit asking. But while their parents didn’t seem to care, I didn’t like drinking in front of my grandchildren, especially my grandsons. I wanted to make sure they always saw a good example, since alcohol brought out the worst in people, especially my sons.
“No, thanks,” I replied.
“Jeremiah, how long are you going to play that game?” my oldest son, Charlie, said as Jeremiah continued tapping away at the screen. He kicked Jeremiah’s foot when the fourteen-year-old didn’t answer. “Boy, do you hear me talking to you?”
Jeremiah removed one headphone from his ear. “Yeah, Dad?”
“Put the game down and go play with your cousins.”
Jeremiah stared at his father in disbelief. “My cousins are four,” he finally said.
“He’s all right,” I said, tousling the curly red mop atop his head. Jeremiah was the quiet and reserved one of my grandchildren. He was a loner, who I could tell felt like he didn’t fit in anywhere—even with our family. And Charlie didn’t make things easier for him. He hated that Jeremiah wasn’t an aggressive bully like him, and he constantly gave his son a hard time. “Jeremiah’s enjoying quality time with his grandpa,” I said.
“You call that quality?” Charlie said, pointing at the TV. “You’re watching some show in black-and-white.”
“It’s Gunsmoke. It’s a classic,” I said.
“You’re watching Gunsmoke and he’s catching Pokémons. Yeah, real grandfather-grandson bonding time,” Charlie quipped.
“Are we bothering you?”
Charlie threw his hands up. “Fine. Do whatever makes you happy.”
I looked over at Jeremiah. “This makes us happy, right?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yep.” He put his headphone back on his ear and went back to playing his game.
Charlie shook his head and headed outside onto the deck. I went back to watching TV. The show had just gone to a commercial break when my four-year-old twin grandsons raced through the living room. One bumped into an end table and caused a picture of Elizabeth to topple over, fall to the floor, and the glass to shatter into a million pieces.
“Jacob, Jonathan!” I screamed as I jumped up. Both boys froze in fear. I’d been yelling at them for the past hour, telling them to stop running in the house. But since my daughter Marian was into that New Age “let kids be kids” discipline, the twins didn’t listen to anyone.
The outburst caused the women to come running in.
“Oh, my God. What did you boys do?” Marian said.
“They broke Grandma’s picture,” Jeremiah responded, not looking up from his game.
I stared at the shattered glass as mist covered my eyes. It was my favorite picture of Elizabeth. She’d picked this frame out on my twenty-fifth birthday.
“Dad, I am so sorry,” Marian said as she stooped down to help me pick up the broken glass.
“They broke it . . .” I said as I continued picking up the pieces. The corner of the ceramic frame was cracked beyond repair. I was so upset my hands were shaking.
Marian kept uttering apologies, but other than that, silence had filled the room and the twins looked terrified. If Elizabeth had been there, she would have told them not to worry about it as she cleaned up the mess. But all I could do was shake in anger.
“Dad, it’s okay. We’ll get another frame,” Charlie said.
“We’ve had this frame for fifty years,” I snapped.
Jacob stepped toward me and extended a piece of paper. “I sorry, PawPaw. I drewed you a picture.”
“See, he’s sorry,” Marian said, smiling like everything was okay.
Despite my anger, I took the paper—and then I noticed the scribbled crayons over the words on the page.
“Did you . . . ?”
At that point I noticed torn pages leading a trail down the hall. “Oh . . . my . . . God.” I darted over and picked up the pages—ripped from the Bible that sat on the nightstand in my room.
I raced to my room and saw Elizabeth’s Bible on the floor with half the pages haphazardly torn out.
“Oh, boys, what did you do?” Marian asked, appearing behind me.
Once again I fell to my knees as I picked up page after page. And each crumpled and torn page pierced my heart.
Everyone must’ve followed me to my room because Charlie reached over to touch my shoulder. I snatched my body away. I needed to get out of this place. It was suffocating me. I didn’t want all these people in my house. I didn’t want these people around me. The only person I wanted, I couldn’t have.
I stood and stomped back into the living room, picked up the photo, shook the glass off, then stood and headed toward the door. “Dad, where are you going?” Charlie asked. I ignored him as I grabbed my keys off the table by the door and headed out.
“Dad . . .” Marian said as she, Charlie, and Cole followed me out.
“Come on, this is your party. Don’t be like this,” Cole said.
“You’re getting all worked up for nothing,” Charlie said.
I didn’t say a word as I clicked the remote to unlock the doors to my 2001 Ford F-150. My pride and joy. The truck Elizabeth had finally broken down and let me get.
Charlie said, “Where are you going?”
Still, I didn’t reply. I rolled down my window and put the truck in reverse. Cole jumped in the back to keep me from leaving the driveway.
“Dad, it’s your birthday. We’re not letting you go,” he said.
“Cole, if you don’t want to end up in the grave next to your mother, you will get out of my way,” I hissed. My chest heaved as I struggled to keep my calm.
“Dad, the twins didn’t mean it. We’ll buy you a new frame,” Marian said.
I just glared at her. That was her solution to everything. Just buy a replacement. Some things couldn’t be replaced.
“I’m just going out to clear my head. I’ll be back,” I finally said, hoping that would be enough to get them to leave me alone.
“How long will you be gone?” Charlie asked. “Yvonne and Mandy are on the way over,” he added, referring to his sisters.
He was holding that out as bait. Yvonne was the only one of my kids that I could stomach for more than a couple of hours. She was the only one with an iota of sense.
My first instinct was to tell them that where I was going was none of their business. But when I did get back, I wanted everyone out of my house. And I knew anything other than a “soon” would lead to another twenty minutes of them pleading with me not to leave.
“Soon,” I said. “Fifteen, twenty minutes. Go back inside and enjoy yourself. I’ll be back.”
“You know we all have been worried about you,” Marian said. “These emotional outbursts, your sadness . . .”
I should’ve known that was coming. Ever since Elizabeth died, my children had been complaining about how “different” I was. I lost my soul mate. How did they think I was supposed to act?
“I was doing some research—”
“I’ll be back.” I cut Marian off before she could finish. She had done two years of community college, but the Internet made her act like she had three medical degrees.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I stared at my family staring at me.
“I’ll be back soon,” I repeated.
The words danced in my head and I fought off the urge to add, “Just please be gone when I return.”