A Lovely Shade of Ouch, Page 3

  It wasn’t comfort, but maybe it would help in some small way.

  When John arrived at their house just north of Osprey, in a rural neighborhood, the driveway and yard were full of cars and several more had been parked along the street. He grabbed the card and the two sandwich platters and walked up to the front door. He didn’t even have to knock, because Paul had already opened the door for him as he walked up.

  He clumsily hugged John. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He took the sandwich platters from him. “Come on in. Mom will be happy to see you.”

  “I need to get some other groceries out of my car first. I brought drinks and stuff.”

  “Oh, hey, thank you. We were going to send someone out. I’ll come help you.” He foisted the sandwich platters off on a woman John didn’t know and followed him outside.

  “How’s your mom holding up?” It felt like a dumb question, but one he was supposed to ask.

  “Not good. I don’t think any of us are. It was a shock.”

  John unlocked his car and, without rumpling the card, managed to help Paul get the rest of the stuff out and into the house in one trip.

  Matt, their youngest at seventeen, was in the kitchen and helped them put things away.

  “Mom’s out on the lanai,” Paul said. “Come on out.” He started leading him that way.

  John knew the way, had been here countless times in the past. Nancy looked horrible, as expected. Heartbroken, grief-stricken, her eyes red, nose swollen from crying, her hair a mess.

  She stood when she spotted him, practically falling into his arms. “What am I going to do, John?” she softly keened. “What am I going to do without him?”

  He held her as she sobbed against his chest, Paul taking the card from him and carrying it inside.

  John knew the right words to say, the motions to make, the expressions to hold on his face.

  Inside, he felt the walls descending, stony, hard, cold. The emotional watertight compartments slamming shut and separating that part of him from the rest of his world.

  He also knew, sooner rather than later, he’d need a good beating to short-circuit that and deal with it. If not, it would seep into other areas of his life, until he wouldn’t be able to sleep, concentrate, focus.

  Function.

  Not until he dealt with it.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he hugged her. “I don’t know what to say.”

  That much was true. He was still trying to deal with the reality that his friend wasn’t just upstairs and missing out on the gathering below.

  He didn’t know what to say to her, because he wasn’t even sure what he would do yet with Mick gone from his life.

  After a few minutes, she peeled herself off him and someone John thought he recognized from previous gatherings as a friend of Nancy’s pressed tissues into her hand.

  “We’re going to have a memorial on Saturday morning at ten,” Nancy said. “At Moalen Brothers in downtown Sarasota. He wanted to be cremated.”

  “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help? Is there anything you need?”

  She looked around, bereft, lost. She shrugged, then nodded, then shook her head and burst into tears again. It was open his arms to her or have her fall against him.

  Finally, about fifteen minutes later, more of her family arrived including her brother, allowing John to tactfully untangle himself from her and escape to the backyard.

  This had been Mick’s pride and joy, besides his family. He loved gardening and landscaping.

  Taking a deep breath, John felt a wave of nausea sweep through him. He bent over and put his hands on his knees, knowing it would pass soon enough.

  This doesn’t feel real.

  He wished it was a nightmare he could awaken from, but the worst things in life usually weren’t. He’d rather choose a truckload of monsters from the darkest recesses of his subconscious chasing him through sleep every night over having to deal with this.

  Once he knew his stomach had steadied, he returned to the house, glad that, for now, Nancy seemed to be engulfed by other friends and family. Matt stood in the kitchen, intently staring at one of the sandwich platters as if trying to make an earth-shattering decision about it.

  “Hey.” John wasn’t sure what else to say. His own situation had been so different than this, from start to bloody, tragic end. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  Matt nodded. His eyes were also red, but he looked like maybe he’d gone from crying to numb, while his mom was still trying to process what had happened.

  John offered him a hand, to shake with him. But the boy didn’t let go, and then dipped his head, his shoulders silently shaking.

  Okay, so maybe not numb.

  John hugged him, the boy crying as silently as his mother was now loudly sobbing again somewhere in the vicinity of the living room. He knew the boy should be out there, with his mom and older brother and sister, and other family, but didn’t have the heart to make him move yet.

  And John knew the things he couldn’t say to him, things on the tip of his tongue that would sound so wrong if said aloud, but would be meant well.

  At least you still have your mom.

  At least you have older siblings.

  At least you’re seventeen, and not twelve.

  At least your dad didn’t beat your mom to a pulp, and then she shot him after he got drunk, and then she shot herself.

  At least you didn’t walk in on it.

  At least you didn’t have to call the cops.

  At least…

  Perspective that would neither be appropriate nor warranted. This kid was the victim of a different kind of tragedy, whether malpractice or misfortune as yet to be seen, he supposed.

  The irreversible result remained the same. Matt would start college next fall. This was his senior year of high school, supposed to be the best time of his life before the next stage started.

  And now…

  The boy sniffled a little and pulled away, quickly turning to rip a piece of paper towel off the roll next to the kitchen sink. After blowing his nose, he washed his face. Only then did he turn back to John.

  “Thanks,” he quietly said. Then he walked out of the kitchen.

  John stared at the sandwich platters, wishing they held answers.

  * * * *

  More family, friends, and coworkers poured into the house, stuffing it nearly to bursting. John made sure to give all three kids a hug, and then Nancy, before excusing himself just before dark fell. Too much grief, too much visible suffering in the faces and voices, Nancy’s renewed cries every time someone else arrived and she was forced to tell the story again.

  Necessary for her process. Necessary for her grief to flow and not get bottled up to rot her from the inside out.

  John’s grief process had taken a different route long ago. His was like slow-flowing lava, cooling and leaving cold stone in its wake. All he could do was seal off the compartments until he could chip away at it later, once it was safe to handle.

  Once it no longer possessed the ability to burn him from the inside out.

  He stopped by a liquor store on the way home and picked up a bottle of rum and a two-liter bottle of Coke.

  Mick’s favorite drink.

  John wasn’t much of a drinker, not even in college. He’d had to work too hard and had too much to prove.

  Now…

  Now he was successful by all the usual benchmarks. Owned his house, owned his car, had a great job he could conceivably retire from eventually, as long as he didn’t commit any massive fuckups in the next several years.

  Mick had been the one person who’d known the full truth about his life. About that night. About what had happened.

  Everyone else knew his parents had died when he was twelve, and he’d come to Sarasota to live with his father’s parents.

  No one else knew what had happened out in Los Angeles. That had been before the
Internet really became a thing every kid his age had access to. Not like today. Now, someone could easily go onto Google and plug in his parents’ names and come up with if not the newspaper articles, then at least a police report, or vital statistics documents stating their manner of death.

  Homicide and suicide.

  He’d told people they were from Atlanta, which wasn’t a lie because they’d lived there until the disastrous year in California. His dad had moved them out there for a job, but his drinking got worse when he’d lost it. And his temper got worse.

  Until that final night.

  By the time John got home it was full dark. He made himself a tall glass with ice, added Coke to the halfway point, then finished it off with rum. Stripping, he walked out to the hot tub on his lanai and climbed in. The benefit of an eight-foot privacy fence around the backyard, he could skinny dip in his pool or hot tub whenever he wanted.

  Without any lights on along the lanai, he could look up and see stars in the sky. As he lifted his glass, he contemplated what to say. He wasn’t a religious person, and neither was Mick.

  “I’m going to miss you, man,” he finally said. “Going to miss the bullshit sessions that went on till midnight, going to miss the phone calls on my birthday. Going to miss you.”

  He downed half the glass, waiting a moment for the inevitable belch as the soda worked its way through his digestive tract.

  “That was a good one, huh?”

  An old joke between them.

  With Mick in his life, even though they didn’t talk every day, he hadn’t felt quite so…alone. Yes, he had coworkers and distant relatives and acquaintances. Even a few people who knew about a small part of his life, again compartmentalized by necessity but for a different reason, that no one else knew about.

  And he was still alone.

  With Mick gone, he was a little more alone than before.

  John sat back in the hot tub and downed the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the edge, leaning his head back, and staring up at the cold, distant, silent stars.

  Chapter Four

  Abbey wasn’t sure where she was going at first, until she realized she was heading toward Tilly’s house. She almost drove past Tilly’s driveway and kept going, but knew her best friend would be upset if she didn’t come to her now, of all times.

  I’ve hit rock bottom.

  That was exactly what it felt like when she parked behind Tilly’s SUV and shut the car off.

  Abbey sat there for a moment, working up the strength to endure the painful struggle to get out of the car when Tilly’s front door opened. Cris appeared, with a curious look on his face, followed by a frown as he stepped outside, closed the door behind him, and walked down the driveway to her car.

  She opened the door.

  “Abbey? What’s wrong?”

  The tears started, sobs wracking her body. Then she heard Cris yelling for Tilly and Landry, and he was gently getting her out of the car after unfastening her seat belt for her. Abbey was still sobbing as Tilly and Landry joined them, the three of them helping her inside and to their sofa.

  Tilly, a former nurse who’d been closely following her friend’s health ordeal, gently held her, rocking her as Landry sat on Abbey’s other side.

  “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Tilly asked. “What happened?”

  Cris disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a box of tissues, pressing a couple of them into Abbey’s hand. It took her a few minutes, but Abbey finally got everything out. From her news about needing surgery to the bombshell Tom had just dropped on her.

  “That son of a bitch,” Tilly muttered. “I’ll fucking castrate him my—”

  “Love,” Landry interrupted. “I don’t think revenge fantasies are appropriate at this juncture.”

  Abbey managed a bitter, snot-filled laugh. “And if you castrate him, he won’t be able to move my shit. Not that I have any idea where I’m going to move to yet.”

  “Don’t worry, babe,” Tilly said. “You’re moving in here, with us.”

  “I appreciate that, but don’t you think your guys should get a say in that?”

  “We don’t need a say,” Cris said. “You’re moving in here.” He looked at Landry, who nodded.

  “Agreed,” Landry said.

  Tears threatened to overwhelm her again. “Thank you, guys, really, but I can’t impose on you like that.”

  “Where else are you going to go?” Tilly asked. “You’ll probably be in the hospital at least two nights, maybe three. When you get home, you’ll need help. What better place than here? We can store your furniture in the garage so you don’t have to pay a storage fee. Then, once you’re healed, we’ll all help you move to wherever you’re going.”

  “You guys have a life and jobs.”

  “Yeah, so?” Cris said. “Tilly’s either home during the day, or doing volunteer stuff with Leah and Loren. And she’s a nurse. It’s perfect. She can drive you to your appointments and everything.”

  “What about George?”

  Tilly frowned. “George?” Then realization set in. “Oh, your turtle. He can move in, too. No worries.”

  “Tortoise. I’ll have to keep him in my room.” They didn’t have a screened lanai big enough for his enclosure, and she didn’t want to keep him out in the open because of mosquitoes and other insects, or predators, like raccoons, dogs, or cats.

  Landry took over. “George is welcomed in our home.”

  Abbey didn’t have the energy to fight them. She knew her friends meant well, and she loved them for it. “Okay.” Despite her best efforts, she started crying again. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to stay here with us tonight?” Tilly asked. “I’ll drive you back home and—”

  “No,” Cris and Landry vehemently said, actually bringing a small smile to Abbey’s face.

  “Not about the staying here part,” Landry quickly amended. “But if anyone goes back with her, it’ll be myself or Cris. Not you.”

  “Why not me?” Tilly indignantly asked.

  “Because you’ll end up needing to be bailed out of jail,” Cris said. “You’ve got a temper, sweetheart. You can’t deny that.”

  Yes, Tilly did have a temper. But as large as her temper was, her heart and her love for her friends were even bigger, by a thousand times.

  Tilly wrinkled her nose at her men. “Okay, fine.”

  “Your choice,” Landry told Abbey. “You are welcomed to stay starting tonight. I’ll talk to the others and get a moving committee arranged for this weekend.”

  Abbey thought about how their friends had rallied around Mallory when she’d needed to move, literally an emergency, out of the house she’d shared with her uncle. He’d been threatening her, and Tilly had been the first to arrive on the scene to back the uncle down until everyone else could get there.

  They’d moved her out in about an hour, although she’d just had a bedroom’s worth of furniture, not half of a house. And they’d had at least eight people helping.

  In fact, Mallory and Askel’s collaring ceremony was that weekend.

  Now, Abbey didn’t know if she even had the heart to go.

  “I have to work tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe it’s better if I just go home tonight and come back Saturday.”

  “Are you sure?” Tilly asked. “I mean it, it’s okay.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it. But I need to pack. And get stuff ready for George. And…” She choked back another round of tears.

  “Change of plans, then,” Tilly said. “I’ll stay at your house tomorrow night and help you with all of that—”

  “Love,” Landry interrupted. “You’re forgetting your role on Saturday.”

  Tilly winced. “Shit. Okay, scratch that. After the collaring on Saturday, we’ll coordinate the effort to get you moved and Sunday we’ll actually move you. How’s that sound?”

  “I don’t know if I can even go on Saturday. I’ve been spending weekends recovering from work. Driving hurts like hell.”<
br />
  “No, you will go. We’ll come pick you up on our way there so you don’t even have to drive.” Tilly scowled. “Is Tom going?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say he wasn’t. He was invited. Maybe he won’t go now. I don’t know.”

  Cris laughed. “Well, when you tell him Tilly’s picking you up Saturday, he might decide to uninvite himself.”

  “If he’s smart,” Landry added. “If he’s brilliant, he’ll make himself scarce all day Saturday and Sunday.”

  “No,” Tilly darkly added, “he’s a fucking moron. If he was smart, he wouldn’t be acting like a such a goddamned dick.”

  * * * *

  Tilly insisted Abbey was staying for dinner. And, Tilly added, they’d be driving her home that night so she didn’t have to.

  Well, Cris and Landry would drive her. Landry decreed Tilly would remain behind.

  Which pissed Tilly off, but she finally accepted.

  Landry actually drove Abbey’s car for her, after he and Cris helped her ease into the passenger seat. “Our offer is sincere,” Landry told her as they drove toward her house. “It won’t be an imposition having you there. You already know our secrets,” he added with a playful smile. “Although I can’t promise you might not need noise-canceling headphones from time to time at night.”

  She’d been friends with the triad for a couple of years and already knew all about their dynamic. “No problem there.”

  “We won’t upset George, will we?” he joked.

  “No, he pretty much puts up with anything. If he doesn’t like something, he buries himself in his house, covers himself up, and pulls his head and legs in.” She let out a wistful sigh. “Wish I could do that.”

  “I’m sorry you’re having to face this additional stress right now.”

  “Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate all of this. I know it’s a burden—”

  “Stop. You’re like family. If you honestly think we’re going to let you deal with this alone, you’re mistaken.”

  “Thank you. I think I’m going to be saying that a lot in the near future.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”