Past Heaven (2 page)

“Hush. Let me take care of you.” I turned on the faucet to Liz’s bathtub and adjusted the knobs until the temperature was right. I wanted to support Liz in a way I had never done before. I had been the one to make her laugh, to stop by uninvited with a Diet Coke and juicy gossip. I never had to help Liz. She was the strong and steady one.

Until now.

Helping her off the floor, I turned her away from me. She was frail. Just yesterday, we had played with our kids at the park, and tonight she could barely stand unassisted. Her shoulders hunched over, and she shook as I eased the zipper down her back. The dress stuck to her skin where the blood had soaked through. Gingerly, I pulled the dress away from her, starting at her shoulders until she could step out of it. Then, I wrapped the ruined garment in a ball and shoved it into the waste basket. I’d get rid of it before she had a chance to see it again.

The hum from the ventilation fan and the sound of rushing water filled the small room. We didn’t speak as I unclasped her bra and set it aside. I was a chatty person by nature. I talked. All. The. Time. It was kind of who I was. I was also crass. I told a lot of jokes and was the life of the party. Silence made me uncomfortable, so I’d babbled just to make noise.

Not now. Not with Liz. Unspoken words flew between us. In the quietness, I reinforced to her that I would not leave her. She wasn’t alone.

Liz stepped out of her underwear and into the warm water. I knelt on the side of the tub and used a washcloth to wipe the remnants of dried blood from her body. Cupping my hands, I wet her long hair. As if she were one of my daughters, I worked in her shampoo, and the scent of lavender filled the air.

Liz sat in the tub with a blank stare. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She watched me, searching my eyes for an answer. I had never felt more helpless in my life. I looked away as my eyes brimmed with tears. The look of despair and her need for resolution were too much. Neither of us were ready for those answers.

Helping her out of the tub, I dried her and pulled a pink nightgown over her head. She took the valium I had brought from home and slipped it into her mouth without question. Her trust for me was unconditional, and I bit my bottom lip, fighting back the never-ending tears.

We faced the mirror, staring at our reflections, as I ran the brush down her hair in long strokes. I couldn’t look away from her. The empty hollow look in her eyes, the look of life leaving her, made me feel sheer desperation. I had to find a way to bring her comfort.

I walked her to her bed, and we both fixated on his nightstand. Glasses were perched on top of a pile of books. A cell phone charger waited for use. Liz was paralyzed, and I was unsure how to help her move forward from something like this. The reminders were everywhere. He was gone, but not. She could not escape this. Finally, I took control and pulled down her comforter. She scurried over to his side and wrapped her arms around his pillow, burying her face in it. Turning off the lights, I slipped off my shoes and climbed in next to her.

She rolled over and found my hand in the dark. I squeezed her fingers tightly.

“Cindy?” Her raw, pained voice hurt my ears.

“Yes, hon?”

“I can’t do this. Not without him. I can’t live my life without Jack.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she sobbed. Body-wracking, breath-stealing, soul-shattering sobs. Yet, her cries were silent.

I held her body to mine as she wept. I wasn’t cut out for this. I was the fun friend. I didn’t know how to help someone stay alive when their heart was barely beating, but I would try. I would keep Liz alive when she didn’t know how. She would do the same for me. That was what happened when you loved a friend so much that they had become a part of you.

I laid my cheek on the top of her head and stroked her hair. “I know, but you will. For yourself and your boys, you will go on. Your life has changed, but it isn’t over. I promise, I’ll be here every day until you believe this yourself.”

I held her until her sobs slowed. I held her until her breaths became deeper. I held her until she fell into some kind of tortured sleep. Then I did something I hadn’t done since I was a child. I prayed to God—to help me be strong, to find the right words, and to make my words be true.

Dear God, let her survive this.

24 hours earlier

“CHRIST, YOU LOOK stunning,” he said with a devilish grin.

I sipped my chardonnay and winked at my husband, not sure if he was being truthful or kind. Either way I’d take it. My friends all envied me for having a husband like Jack. He made me feel adored no matter where we were or what was going on around us.

I carried an extra ten pounds on my curvy body, and my dress was a bit snug. Jack and I budgeted carefully, and we didn’t have the funds for a new outfit for this occasion. I scanned the room while tugging on my dress and squirming to get it just right. I should have tried harder. I should have borrowed something from a girlfriend—this was Jack’s big night. Person after person shook his hand, hugged him, congratulated him, and I felt guilty, unworthy. He should have a looker on his arm, not a housewife who had barely taken the time to style her hair and hadn’t taken a second to apply makeup.

Nabbing a mini quiche from the passing waiter, I looked up into the loving, brown eyes of my husband.

“I need to steal you for a moment,” he murmured in my ear. Peeking over his shoulder, I noticed a line of people had formed behind him. Everyone waited to grab a minute of his attention, but he politely ignored them. Instead, he took me by the elbow into the hotel lobby. A small knot grew in my stomach. Jack never walked away from someone wanting to speak to him. I pulled back to ask him what was wrong, but he hurried us into a private corner.

“Are you okay?” My hands rested on the lapels of his jacket. I searched his face, concerned. This was so unlike him. My husband was nothing if not a giver. Jack was that man—the one who had actually given someone the coat off his back.

Just last week, as we left a benefit concert at the Meyerhoff Symphony Orchestra, I had watched Jack spot a homeless man shivering from the fall cold. Without hesitation, Jack had removed his coat and had given it away. He was the most generous and caring person I had ever known. I was lucky enough to be married to him, but unlucky to have to share him with enthusiastic supporters. I adored him, but I was selfish—I wanted him all to myself.

“I’m fine, honey. I just needed a second alone with my gorgeous wife.” He rested his hands on my waist. “These have been the craziest months of my life. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’m so sorry for that, but it’s almost over. We’re almost there, Liz. So much good is about to happen.” Jack’s eyes glimmered, and he couldn’t keep the excited smile off his face. His tone was convincing, like he was trying to reassure me, but I already knew this. Jack had sacrificed his personal life—our life—to achieve his goal. His work was for a higher purpose, but my understanding that hadn’t made these last few months any easier. I missed him. We all did.

“I know. Don’t worry about me and the boys.” I tilted my head to the side, proud of what he had accomplished, and smiled. “We’re fine. Lobbying for new laws and funding is a long process, and we know it’s for the greater good. I’m so incredibly proud of you. I just want some you and me time.”

Jack pulled me closer to him. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him gently, and a moan escaped his lips as he pressed them more firmly against mine. A tingle rushed through my body, and a smile touched my eyes. Even though we had been together for almost seventeen years, his kisses still had the power to make me tremble.

“Mmm. I needed that. Thank you. And thank you for your unwavering support. I love you.” Jack squeezed my upper arms and stared into my eyes. He knew how much his extra hours at work had impacted our family. The boys missed him desperately, as did I. He would make it home several nights a week for dinner and almost always for bedtime stories, but he had been working much more than any of us were used to. Still, his body vibrated with energy. He was proud of his work, and he should be. A goal he had tirelessly worked toward, almost since I had known him, would come to fruition next week.

With his hand wrapped in mine, Jack walked me back into the hotel ballroom. A slideshow of photographs of Warren agency clients was shown in a loop. Uplifting and inspiring songs played, setting the tone for the night. The lights in the room flickered and people hurried to find a seat.
With a swift kiss on his cheek, I whispered in his ear, “Good luck.” Jack’s face beamed with exuberance as we parted.

While he walked to the podium, I searched for a spot in the front row. I was anxious to claim a seat where Jack could catch my eye, and I could give him the smiles and winks he didn’t need, but always sought out.

The chattering in the ballroom rose in pitch as Jack approached the podium and tapped the microphone. Several of Jack’s co-workers waved to me from across the aisle. Everyone looked forward to this night in November all year long. Their happy smiles were contagious. Even though the room buzzed with energy, everyone quieted down quickly.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. For those of you who may not know me, my name is Jack Atwater, and I’m Executive Director of the Warren agency. It’s a pleasure to stand before you tonight, on one of my favorite nights of the year, to celebrate the achievements and dedication of our staff and volunteers.”

The audience clapped as Jack spoke. Looking around the room, I watched the familiar faces of colleagues and friends. This was one of the things Jack did best. He captivated the room with his vigor and warmth. Sitting on the edge of their seats, people waited to hear if Jack mentioned their name for something they had done to help the agency.

That was my husband. He would walk the floors of his office building every day, supporting, encouraging, and reinforcing the work of every staff member—from the janitorial staff to his head of development. Jack wanted everyone he worked with to know they were appreciated and loved. And they did—and they loved him back—with a fierce loyalty that never failed to surprise and please me.

At tonight’s event, awards would be handed out and individuals recognized. However, what each person in the room was most excited about would take place in eight short days. Jack, as well as many other dedicated people, had worked to close the last state-run institution for people with disabilities. He had dedicated his career to ending those jail-like conditions. The individuals with intellectual or physical disabilities currently residing there would be moved next week into alternative living units with support staff to help care for their needs.

I shook my head, picturing Jack’s face when the Caldwell Center would officially close. He might do something crazy like take a few days off work.

I would love to spoil him for a while. I imagined cooking him his favorite meals, watching his favorite sci-fi movies with him, playing with our boys, and having fun. He had been working hard for so long. My daydream was cut short by yelling in the back of the room, and I jerked around.

“Move! Fuckin’ move! Get the fuck out of my way!” A wild, disheveled-looking man, who looked like he was in his seventies, pushed a woman in a wheelchair quickly down the center aisle.

Immediately, butterflies rioted in my stomach. I leaned forward in my chair, trying to make eye contact with Jack. Something felt wrong.

The man had combed his greasy hair sideways over his bald spot. He had a large pot belly, causing his tight flannel shirt to gape open at the button holes. His eyes bulged out, and his mouth hung open as he gasped for air. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and he had prominent dark circles under his eyes.

One of the staff members walked up to intervene, but Jack waved him off. I caught Jack’s attention. He shook his head to me and moved closer to the approaching man. The woman in the wheelchair was slumped over and wearing dingy pajamas. Her short hair was sticking up, and her mouth hung slack as she drooled.

The man stopped directly in front of Jack and pointed a shaking finger at my husband. Jack appeared calm and in control. I looked between the two a couple of times. Did Jack know this man? Why didn’t he seem the least bit unnerved?