chapter
18
The gravel crinkled underneath my tires as I navigated down the long, winding path that led to the back of the cemetery. I could navigate this path in my sleep. I’d come here so many times. My truck could get here on autopilot.
I’d been driving around Houston for the past three hours—just driving and thinking. As always, Elizabeth clouded my thoughts, but for some reason the image forefront in my mind was the first time that we met.
I watched in awe as Max Porter walked with confidence toward the new girl. She wasn’t exactly new. She’d been at our school all week. She was the most beautiful girl most of us in the small town of Sealy, Texas, had ever seen. And every boy in school wanted her, including me. I wanted to speak to her, but I had yet to get up the nerve, and when I saw Max, who had been out on a football injury, saunter over toward her, I knew I would never stand a chance.
“Hello, pretty lady,” he said. “I’m Max, the star quarterback.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“So, your name is Max The Star Quarterback?”
I couldn’t help but snicker. Max wasn’t fazed, because he replied, “Nope. It’s just Max, and I’m the star quarterback. But you probably already know that.”
“Actually, I don’t,” she said. “Excuse me,” she added, trying to step around him.
My heart tightened. There had to be at least fifteen people standing around, since we had just gotten out of school. Max didn’t like to be embarrassed and he didn’t like rejection. Not that I ever saw anyone reject him. Max usually got what he wanted. And it was obvious right now he wanted the pretty new girl. But she didn’t want him.
“Excuse me,” she repeated when he jumped back in front of her. “I need to get home.”
“Well, I’ll walk you,” he said.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“So, are you too good for me to walk you home?”
She took a deep breath and pulled her books even closer to her chest. “Look, Max, that’s your name, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m not interested, so, if you will please excuse me.”
Her bold confidence made me smile until I saw Max’s brow furrow.
“What?” he said. “Did you just try to brush me off?”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” she said. I could tell she was a tad bit scared by his change in demeanor. “I just want to go home.”
“Nah, I want to know why you don’t want me to walk you home.”
She just ignored him this time and walked around him. He grabbed her arm, which caught her by surprise. I could tell she was trying to jerk it away, but he had a strong grip on her.
I don’t know where the strength came from. My self-esteem was in the tank because of my abusive father, so when it came to violence, I usually ran the other way. But I jumped my puny fifteen-year-old body next to her and said, “You heard her. Leave her alone.”
Max looked at me, paused like he had to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, then said, “Aren’t you the doofus that sits in the front of the class?”
“Leave her alone,” I repeated, this time with a bravado that I didn’t really have. He released his grip on her arm and took a step toward me. I balled both of my fists up. For what, I don’t know. I had never been in a fight in my life. When my dad beat me, I just cowered. I’d mastered the art of cowering. So right now, there was nothing in me that believed I could beat Max. But I was going to try. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. And Max looked like he was gearing up for one, because he began rolling up his sleeves as he took another step toward me. But the gods must have been on my side that day—or really, Mr. Lewis, our high school principal. Because he stepped to us just as Max was about to haul off and punch me.
“Max, I know you’re not causing any more trouble. You know one more strike and you are off the football team altogether,” Mr. Lewis warned.
That struck fear in Max, because he backed down quickly.
“Nah, Mr. Lewis. We were just messing around.”
Mr. Lewis looked at me and said, “Is that true, son?”
I glared at Max. “Yes,” I said, not taking my eyes off my nemesis.
Max looked at me like he was relieved I hadn’t gotten him in any trouble.
“Well, good,” Mr. Lewis said. “You fellas run along.”
I didn’t relax until both Mr. Lewis and Max had rounded the corner and were out of sight.
I felt the air release from my body once I could no longer see Max. And the new girl, who I had forgotten all about, said, “Thank you. I’ve never had anyone take up for me before.”
“M-my pleasure,” I said. I pushed back all the nervous bubbles in my stomach and said, “I’m Ollie Moss.”
She smiled as she extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Waters.” Her smile widened even more as she said, “Would you like to walk me home?”
That memory made my heart smile. I walked Elizabeth home that day and every day thereafter. We became inseparable. I didn’t have to worry about Max because two days after our incident, he’d gotten in trouble and his mother had sent him to the Army. And Elizabeth and I began our life together.
That had been in 1954. Elizabeth and I had married five years later. She stayed while I went off to fight in the Vietnam War. She’d waited on me and had taken care of our two boys—Charlie and Bert—until I was discharged because of an injury.
Elizabeth had been my life and now that she was gone, I questioned everything about my life. No, now that she was gone, my life wasn’t worth living.
I pulled my truck into park in front of the headstone where my beloved wife was eternally resting. The vibrating of my phone caused me to look down. Yvonne’s name glared across the screen of my cell. I hated these contraptions. My kids had insisted I carry one, but I liked it back when people couldn’t get in touch with you. When they had to wait to talk to you until they could reach you.
Only because it was Yvonne, I picked the phone up.
“Hey, baby girl,” I said.
“Hi, Daddy,” she replied. “How are you?”
“You know I’m not happy.” Yvonne was in the perfect position as a nurse. She was caring and sensitive. And the only one of my children who was always concerned with how I felt.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry I left early. I just . . . We’ve just been fighting about this for a while.”
I wondered how long my children had been secretly talking behind my back about putting me in a home.
“Everyone outvoted me. But Daddy, you can come stay with me. I’ll take care of you.”
A warm smile filled my heart. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I’ll be living in my own house until the day they put me in the ground. Where are you headed?”
“You remember my best friend, Savannah?”
“Yes, the reporter?” I wondered if she agreed with her siblings that I was getting forgetful. She’d been friends with Savannah forever, so of course I would remember her.
“Yes. Well, she’s going through some personal issues and I’m trying to help her. I’m on my way over there.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, not asking any questions only because I couldn’t take on the weight of anyone else’s tragedies.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“At the cemetery to see your mama.”
She was quiet. Then, “Tell her I love her.”
“She knows.”
“I love you, too, Daddy. And I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mandy.” I choked back the heaviness in my throat.
Another silence filled the phone. “It’s Yvonne, Daddy,” she said.
I rubbed my temples. Of course I meant Yvonne. Shoot, I was just getting mixed up from the stress of everything.
“Sorry, that’s what I meant. But I need to go.”
“Can I come by and take you to lunch this week? I’d rather have my own private birthday celebration. Jeremiah asked if just the three of us could go out somewhere.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
We exchanged goodbyes and I sat in the car for a moment. I know thinking this was probably bad, but Jeremiah and Yvonne were the only ones I would miss from my family when it was time for me to join my Elizabeth. With the exception of Yvonne, my children were entitled pompous brats who were raising entitled pompous brats, well, except for Jeremiah. Don’t get me wrong. I knew that they loved me, and I loved them—but they were still brats. Jeremiah reminded me of myself at that age. Maybe that’s why we were so close.
I got out and made my way up to my wife’s grave. I sat in front of it, cleaning off the wilted flowers from my last visit, two weeks ago. I filled her in on the birthday party and what the kids were trying to do. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I finally said, “I miss you so.” And then my next words were unexpected: “I’m ready to be with you.”
I waited to hear my wife’s voice telling me otherwise, telling me “No, it isn’t time.” Admonishing me for even thinking such thoughts.
But there was nothing.
A plane buzzed overhead. A car honked in the distance. But outside of that, there was nothing.
I took the silence as Elizabeth agreeing. She was ready for me, too. The thought brought me an undeniable sense of peace.
I stood, genuinely smiling for the first time since I’d put Elizabeth in the ground. I was more sure now than ever before. I knew exactly what I needed to do.