“Well,after I called 9-1-1 and the paramedics came, I called Zach and Jenna. We wereat the hospital for a longass time before they finally let us see him. And thatwas ...” He shook his head, still disbelieving that new reality. “It was crazy.They had him strapped to the bed, tellin' us he was a danger to himself. And, Iguess, at the time, he was.”
Vinnie.Suicidal. It was difficult to grasp, but looking back, hadn't there been signsall along of his depression and anger?
AndI had missed them all.
“So,he was in the psychiatric ward,” I croaked.
Moenodded solemnly. “For a week. Then, he was upstate with Zach for a while,before heading up to Boston.”
“Boston?”
Exhalingheavily, Moe turned and took a seat on a rocking chair that once belonged to mygrandfather. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held them up. “Mind if Ismoke?” I didn't, and so, he lit one before continuing.
“Vindidn't think he could handle going to rehab in New York. He thought it was thebest idea to get away for a while and really separate himself from the shitgoin' on here. So, he and Zach found this really nice place in Boston.” He tooka long drag from the cigarette and left a silvery cloud in the frozen air. “Hefound this really great doctor up there, who had him write all these letters toeveryone he hurt or, I dunno, had somethin' to say to.” That was when he pulledan envelope from his pocket and handed it over to me. “And this one is foryou.”
Itook the white envelope from him to look at the big, boldANDYscrawledacross the front in black marker. Seeing his handwriting and the creases in thecrisp paper where his hands might've been, made me realize that this was theonly piece of my husband I physically had in my possession. There was nothingelse. No threadbare t-shirt that smelled of his skin. No photographs or simplemementos from past holidays. Up until just seconds ago, he might as well hadbeen nothing more than a ghost of my past. But whatever this might have been,it was now the most precious thing I owned.
Itwas proof that he'd once existed in my life.
Islid my finger beneath the sealed flap and began to rip it open when Moeprotested with a frantic wave of his hands.
“Oh,hell no, girl. You are not opening that right now. It's takin' everything in meto keep my shit together as it is, and—”
Hiseyes locked on something in the front yard, his mouth frozen around what he hadmeant to say. Beside him, was Jamie, jumping ecstatically, as Moe stood up withthe cigarette between his fingers.
“Ican't believe it's still here,” he muttered, walking down the porch steps andacross the winter brown grass, to the bird bath in the center of the yard.
Jamiewas on his heels the whole time.
Curiously,I watched him, not daring to follow father and daughter, as he crouched to thecircle of rocks surrounding the old stone bath. It had been right where itstood ever since my parents bought the house twenty-four years ago and wore itsage gracefully. Not a chip or stain marred its etched surface and the samecould be said about the rocks that surrounded it. Our parents had forbidden usfrom touching it as kids and not a single rock had been turned in over twodecades. Until now, as Moe knelt beside the circle and lifted one specificstone.
Heturned it over in his hands, brushing away the dirt from its surface. A singletear trickled down his cheek and he hastily swatted it away, leaving a smudgeof soil in its wake. Then, he smiled and came back to the porch.
“MyJamie gave me this rock for my last Father's Day,” he said, using her name forthe first time, giving me all the confirmation I no longer needed. He turnedthe rock over and showed me the message written in worn, but still legible,marker.
Ilove you, Daddy. Love, Jamie
Myheart sat heavy, weighing against my lungs and gut, and making it so difficultto breathe. I was trapped. Caught between wanting to do the right thing andwanting to keep her to myself forever. What if I never left? Couldn't she and Ilive happily together, until I died?But then, reason asked,whathappens to her after Moe dies, or hell, afteryoudie?I didn't knowthe answer. Would she be trapped here for all eternity, or would she, bydefault, be set free once her tether to this earth was severed? Was I reallywilling to find out? Was I truly that selfish, to ignore her silent pleas andkeep her here, when I had set so many others free? Hadn't she waited longenough?
Thebattle against my emotions was lost as I looked at the pleading eyes of myfriend and released a sob.
“Andy?”Moe's hand drooped to his side, still clutching the rock. “Baby, what's wrong?”
Iclosed my eyes to his concern and let the images speak. “She found that rock inthe woods across the street, before they tore them down and built the houses.It reminded her of you, of when you'd take her camping by the lake. She saw itand brought it home.”
Moeremained as silent as his daughter, and I continued, pulling at another image,another piece of proof.
“Itwas you that did her hair, not your wife. Jamie thought it was funny, how youwere more like the mommy and your wife was more like the daddy, with the goodjob and all the money.”
Thatbrought a hushed chuckle. “My wife was a surgeon, and when we had our firstdaughter, we decided I'd be a stay-at-home dad.”
Inodded, opening my eyes to find his stare pinned on me with a cocktail ofastonishment, sadness, and speculation swirling around in his misty eyes. Jamiestood beside him, smiling with so much warmth and just a dash of sadness and Iknew that smile was for me.
“Youhave blamed yourself for too long for what happened,” I stated, holding Moe'sunrelenting gaze. “She has never, ever blamed you. But she has always felt sadfor what happened after. She hates that she was the reason you and your wifedivorced. She hates that you ruined your life, because of her.”
Therewas no attempt to stop the tears as they began to fall from his big, browneyes. His gaze left mine as he searched the ground, the sky, anywhere she mighthave been. I smiled at his attempt to catch any glimpse of the daughter hethought he'd failed, and I reached out, touching his hand.
“She'sbeside you,” I informed him gently, and he looked at me, bewildered, as henodded.
