Garrett
Present
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 27
I WIPE THE FOOD FROM KAI’S FACE, and he’s belly laughing.
“Did you ever think you’d see this day?” Peggy asks as she rinses Kai’s bottles in the sink.
“No,” I respond. “A day like today seemed almost impossible to reach.”
I can still hear Kai’s sharp, painful cries if I let myself remember the early days with him months ago. Days when I tried to avoid hearing his screams. I disappeared for days and weeks on end. Escaping the reality that was my life.
Looking at him now, I realize the mistake I made. I should have been here to absorb every cry of pain. Every whimper. Thank God for Sam and Peggy. They did what I couldn’t do and helped Kai without hesitation.
“Thank you, Peggy,” I say.
“For what?” Your niece.
I look at her and raise my eyebrows. “You forced me to face what I didn’t want to face. And you helped me heal my son.”
“You didn’t need my help, Garrett. You just needed to find it in yourself to open your heart and love someone.”
I love your niece, too.
“Are you ready, little man?” Peggy asks. He coos and claps his hands.
“I think he is,” I say, and she lifts him out of his high chair.
“It’s such a beautiful day. I’m going to take him to the park after his appointment, if that’s okay with you?” Kai has a check-up today, and Peggy always insists on handling the doctor appointments. It’s kind of her thing with him, and I don’t complain. It’s hard to see him get shots, and I know he’s in good hands with her.
“We’ll be back in a few hours. Enjoy the quiet while you can,” Peggy says. She knows Sam is going to go back to work soon, and I’ll be adjusting to a new schedule and routine on my own.
“Okay. Take your time,” I say and rush up the stairs as soon as I hear the car pull away. Sam slept in today, and I plan to wake her up the best way that I know how.
I open the door to my room and am surprised to see Sam pacing, holding a pad and pencil. She’s in her panties and tank top and looks so fucking hot. She’s startled when I burst in and close the door behind me.
“Hey,” I say and wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her neck. She smells like vanilla and sex. Two of my favorite smells.
She’s tense in my arms, and I back away a little. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m making a list for you to refer to when I’m gone, and I feel like I’m missing too many things.”
My heart sinks when I realize she’s really going to leave.
“Let’s not worry about the list right now,” I say and plant tiny kisses all around her lips.
She smiles and drops the pencil and pad onto the dresser. She throws herself into my arms, and we repeat last night’s performance several times.
“GARRETT?” SAM ASKS AS I NUZZLE into her breasts.
“Hmm?” I respond sleepily.
“What are you going to tell Kai about me?” she asks, and I’m suddenly wide awake.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, how are you going to explain me to him when he gets older? He’ll see me in pictures and will assume I was a major part of his life. I just want to know what you’re going to tell him.”
She’s serious, and I can’t think of what to say.
“Are you assuming you won’t be able to tell him yourself?” I ask.
“Well, maybe?”
“You’re going to tell him because I’m not letting you go. Ever.” I can’t picture Kai’s life without Sam in it. And I can’t picture my own without her next to me.
“We’re family,” I say to her, and she sucks in her breath.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I just said. We’re family. You’re not just Kai’s nurse. You helped him heal, and you love him as if he were your own. So, yeah. Family.”
She smiles through happy tears and snuggles next to me.
“I want to know more about your family,” she says. “Your parents are great. I want to know more. Do you have aunts, uncles, cousins?”
“My parents are amazing. Mom and Bill have given me a great life. They supported my dreams of becoming a musician and never once questioned my choices. They helped create a stable and loving home that was torn from me when my father left so many years ago. I didn’t realize until recently how lucky I am to have them in my life.” I pause and reflect once again how lucky I am to have them. “My mom’s family is huge. I have four uncles and about a dozen cousins, all living in North Carolina. I’m glad they’re all so close to each other down there.”
“That’s amazing. You’re lucky to have all of them.” Sam met my parents about two months ago. I could tell that my mother adored her, and she kept throwing looks my way. I think she could sense something I wasn’t yet aware of. She looks a little sad, and I hope the talk of my big family doesn’t upset her. I don’t even know anything about hers. Maybe she has cousins out there somewhere too?
“What about your family?” I ask.
“I don’t have a huge family like you. My mother was an only child, and my father’s only sister is Aunt Peggy. I miss my parents so much and I hold them close to my heart. My mother gave me so many gifts, but the most important gift she gave me was to give of myself to others. I know she’s looking down on me right now, thrilled that I’m a nurse. She always told me that I had a higher purpose and I never believed her until I took that oath in nursing school.”
She pauses to reflect on the love she has for her mother.
“When my father saved me from drowning, he also gave me the desire and push to be brave. He gave me the gift of unconditional love and understanding. His gift allows me to open my heart to anyone, and it gives me the desire to help heal. He was a wonderful man, and Heaven is a better place with him there.”
“I know you’re right,” I say, and realize that my father is probably in Hell.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t pretend my life was a fairytale when I was younger, but I have to believe in the gifts my parents gave to me in order to make sense of their deaths.”
“Can you tell me about it?” I ask, expecting she’ll decline.
“About their deaths?” she responds.
“Yes.”
“They were murdered.” She tenses next to me, and I softly run my fingers up and down her arm.
“I know. But how?” My morbid curiosity takes control as well as my sudden desire to take this awful memory from her forever.
She inhales deeply and says simply, “They were blown up in their own home by a deranged man looking for money and drugs.”
My head begins to spin as the reality of what she just said sinks in. “What?” I ask, and I’m not prepared to hear anything more. I sit up in bed and place my head on my knees. Her voice becomes distant and is replaced by Bill’s voice.
“He killed himself,” Bill says to me solemnly through the phone.
I almost crumble in place as his words hit me in the chest. “How?” I ask again, but know I don’t want to hear anything more.
“You should come home,” he says, and I immediately deny his request.
“No! What good will that do? He’s dead. I haven’t seen him since I was seven, and he killed himself before he could see me now.”
“Garrett, you don’t understand. There’s more that we need to tell you,” Bill pleads with me, and I can hear my mother sobbing in the background.
“What more could you possibly say? He’s dead, Bill. He’s been dead to me for years.”
“He killed himself along with two other people. It was a murder-suicide.”
“What?” I ask, barely audible to myself.
“He was in a treatment facility not too far from here when he disappeared. They called your mother the other day to see if she’d heard anything from him. She explained that she hasn’t heard from him in years and had no idea he was even in this facility. They told her she was listed as his only relative and that if she should hear from him, they needed to know immediately. They explained that he was a danger to himself and others.”
I can’t take this all in. It’s too much to comprehend.
“Who did he kill?” I ask.
“A husband and wife in Newtown on Hickory Avenue.”
“How?” I ask in disbelief.
“The police believe he filled their home with gas from their stove and used a lighter. The explosion leveled the house.”
I drop my phone and make a mad dash for the bathroom. I puke up everything in my stomach and more. How could my father do this? Why would he do this?
I curl up in the bathroom stall and try to drown out the noise from the bar. Animated voices joking and flirting. People who have normal lives with normal families. None of them are related to a murderer.
None of them have to look in the mirror and be forever branded with the sins of their father.
“Garrett?” Sam’s voice echoes in my ears and I snap out of my daze. I flinch when she touches my shoulder.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asks, and her concern turns to fear.
“Sam…” I say weakly and place my hand over hers. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Garrett. Even though it was difficult, I’ve come to terms with their deaths in the best way that I can. Please don’t look at me like that. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a look filled with pity.” She pleads with me, and I can’t help but feel worse.
I need to tell her.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Stop,” she says, begging me not to continue. Her eyes are huge with fear.
“My father… died in a similar way. Sam, he’s killed people. He died at 842 Hickory Avenue.” I almost choke on the words that come out of my mouth.
Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she whimpers next to me. She begins rocking in place on the bed and shaking her head violently from side to side. “Stop. Stop talking,” she screams. “This isn’t true. No. No. No. NO!” she yells and starts hyperventilating. Her breathing is erratic and shallow.
I don’t know how to calm her down, and the memories of the days that follow are so vivid and clear.
“June McAllister, reporting live from 842 Hickory Avenue in Newtown. The scene of an apparent murder-suicide. Benjamin and Katherine Weston, unsuspecting parents of a teenaged girl, were overtaken in their own home by John Horton. We’ve since learned that Mrs. Weston was several months pregnant, expecting their second child. Family of Mr. Horton was unavailable for comment, but his former wife Claire Armstrong released a statement through her representative.
“’My heart goes out to the family of Benjamin and Katherine Weston. I can’t erase the pain John has caused all of you, but I can tell you I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss. I don’t ask you to understand his actions but that someday you find it in your hearts the power to forgive him. I’m so sorry.’
“John Horton’s son was also unavailable for comment, and his whereabouts are unknown. John’s former wife, Claire, asks that you respect her family’s privacy at this time and focus on offering prayers for the Weston’s orphaned teenaged daughter.”
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” I pull her shaking body into mine. “I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t know. Oh my God. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t touch me,” she screams as if I’m stabbing her repeatedly. “Get away from me!”
I release her from my grip and she bolts out of the bed.
“Sam?” I say as she pulls on her clothes and runs for the door.
“Sam!” I yell after her as I hear her running down the hall and the stairs. The front door opens and slams shut and tires squeal as she tears down the driveway.
I’m unable to move from the bed. I’m frozen in place with the vision of her family home charred and burned to the ground.
An ash-filled house of death where our families are forever entombed together.