18. 14 Years Ago #2
“I’m going to grab lunch too. Give you all some privacy here,” Joanie echoed from her station at the desk. "I'm all set with the mail, anyway." She stood up, pushed her chair in, and put her hand on my shoulder on her way out, her head down the entire time.
Then we were alone, the three of us. Aunt Lucy took a deep breath.
I cleared my throat. “What happened to Dad?” I asked again.
Aunt Lucy’s eyes grew thick with tears. “There’s been an accident,” her voice cracked.
My throat closed. I brought my hand up to my head, pushing the hair out of my face, and saw that I was trembling. Matt placed his hand on my lower back, stroking his thumb up and down along my spine.
The words echoed ones I was far too familiar with, so holding it together was close to impossible. Lucy quickly realized the error she’d made. “He’s okay,” she corrected herself. “He’s alive. It’s nothing like that.”
I exhaled.
“But it’s still bad, honey,” Lucy continued. “He came to see me in Boston for a few days. Your dad’s been suffering a lot since everything happened with your mom.”
I stared at my aunt, steeped in muted emotions, silently waiting for more information.
“He needed money,” she went on. “Because he was fired.”
“What else is new?” I muttered.
“He started drinking on the job. He’s just been so broken up, I guess he couldn’t manage.
Anyway, I won’t make excuses for that. He kept saying he felt like your mom was haunting him in the apartment.
Not like a ghost,” she explained. “Like that she was everywhere, in the smell of the dish soap, or the way the spices were organized on the rack, that sort of thing.” Lucy was rambling.
Nervous. My stomach tried to tie itself in a knot, but I couldn’t feel the words the way I used to be able to.
“So, he came to spend a few days with me. I gave him some money and told him that if he needed to move, he should wait until after you graduate. It’s only one more year, right? That’s what I said.”
Aunt Lucy hung her head and dabbed her nose with the tissue, letting the tears spill freely from her worn eyes. “We got in an argument. He was trying to get me to give him enough to put a down payment on a place in Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn?” I repeated.
Aunt Lucy nodded. “I said no. I couldn’t agree to that.
Anyway, he got angry and he left. I’m not sure where he went.
I got the call hours later, around 5:00 a.m. Your father took something.
I don’t know how he got it. But he was drunk and extremely high on some sort of hallucinogen.
I believe the officer said it was a type of LSD.
” She took a shaky breath. “Sweetheart, he got in the car and decided to go home. To Queens. Only he got on Route 3 and sped off down the highway.”
“So he got arrested for a DUI?”
Lucy covered her mouth with her hand and choked on a sob. She nodded her head, and her eyes rapidly filled with tears. “He got on the highway going the wrong way. Route 3. Top speed. He crashed into an oncoming car.”
“Oh, my God,” I said.
“Your father’s alive, by some miracle. And he’s okay.”
“What about the other car?” I asked.
Aunt Lucy hung her head, as if to assume my father's shame. “They died on impact. It was an older couple. They were heading to the airport for an early flight,” Lucy wept.
“He killed them,” I said, matter-of-factly.
Matt reached for my hand. I pulled away, retreating into myself, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
Lucy didn’t disagree.
I waited while Lucy cried some more. “He’s in jail, honey,” she finally said.
I nodded. “When did this happen?”
Lucy sighed. “Four weeks ago.”
“Four weeks ago?” I echoed.
“A few days after you left for camp, he came to see me. He was only with me for a long weekend, and the accident happened on the way back. So maybe, like a week after you left.”
“How come nobody told her sooner?” Matt asked.
“He was arrested and released on bail. His license was revoked, and they had his arraignment not long after. Then, we went to trial. The trial only lasted two days. The jury found him guilty of vehicular manslaughter due to reckless driving. He was sentenced to prison.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Oh, honey. You’ve been through so much these past few months. I didn’t know how. Especially once I knew your dad was okay, I didn’t think—”
“Okay? What part of this story makes you think he was even okay in the slightest?” I rebutted.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It was a lot to handle on my own. If I should have told you sooner, I’m sorry. I was just doing my best.”
Sometimes you tell lies to take care of the people you love, I remembered.
Even lies of omission, I guess. “First he killed my mom, then he killed two innocent people, and now he’s in jail.
And nobody even thought that maybe I should be made aware of this fact.
” I recite this as a statement, not as a question filled with the kind of bewilderment that rests on Matt’s face.
“Like I said, I didn’t want to lay all of this on you until I absolutely had to. But if that was wrong, I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you.”
“So, what now?” I asked.
“He was sentenced to 15 years in jail.”
My eyes went wide.
“He might be able to get out early for good behavior,” Lucy went on.
Something broke inside me then. Like when a pebble hits a windshield and cracks it so slightly, but then the summer heat radiates on it and the crack just grows and grows until finally the entire window shatters.
All of the emotions flowed into my chest cavity: anger, sorrow, fear, disbelief.
I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent as my aunt, who had always been so good to me, wept openly.
Unable to look Matt in the face due to the shame and disgust I felt for my own family, I moved toward Aunt Lucy.
We were not touchy-feely people, and although I knew this was probably an appropriate time for a hug, I made do by resting my hand gently on her shoulder.
At this, she sat up straighter, wiped her eyes, and tried to pull herself together.
“We have so much to do,” Aunt Lucy explained. “You should probably start packing.”
“Packing?” This hit me harder than the information about my father.
“Yes, honey. I have to get in touch with your landlord, and then we’ll need to contact the movers.
I need to get a room set up for you at my house, and I’ll need your help with that.
Then I have to call the local high school and get you registered.
I have no idea how to do any of it. I’ve never had kids,” she explained.
“Movers?” The gravity of the situation was trapped inside that one word. Of course, I can’t go back to live at home with no parents. That makes sense. Maybe I could live with Matt?
But, no. This was too much to put on Matt’s family.
His father already had high blood pressure and had recently developed diabetes.
I couldn’t expect them to handle an extra kid in their home, not only financially, but emotionally and from a logistical standpoint.
Lucy was right. Her plan was probably the only plan that would make any sense. My mind swirled, but still, no tears.
“You can’t move,” Matt said. “There’s got to be something we can do.” His eyes looked wild, like a caged, scared animal.
“She has to,” Lucy explained. “I’m her legal guardian now.”
Right. “Can I at least stay here until the end of the summer?” I asked.
Aunt Lucy dabbed her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. There’s no way I can clean out your parents’ house—your house—without your help. And I want to get it done before the summer ends, so that you’re all settled at my place before the school year starts.”
Matt cleared his throat. “Then I’ll come with you,” he offered.
I considered this, but Aunt Lucy spoke up. “I’m planning to hire movers, but thank you, Matt.”
“What about camp? My cabin? They need me. For ratios,” I explained, referring to staff-to-camper ratios mandated by the Department of Health.
“They’ll figure it out. They already know. I called this morning and spoke to the director. Pat, was it? He was very understanding.” She blew her nose.