Memorial
Kath stood with her back against the wall at Frankie’s funeral, the church was packed. St. Peter’s was the biggest church in town, and still there were people standing outside. She was wedged between a teenage girl in a bustier cut black blouse and a toe ring, and a gray haired woman in sensible shoes; behind three rows of people, mostly teens. Kath clutched her program with Frankie’s high school picture on the cover and several wadded up Kleenexes. She could see Frankie’s family by leaning to the left and looking between two tall boys. There was no casket. Kath couldn’t see her son Wade anywhere.
Frankie had been killed last Friday night. The local paper carried it on the front page, with a picture of the smashed pickup. The truck had rounded the curve by the 7-11 too fast and slammed into a huge Monterey cypress tree by the edge of the golf course. Frankie had been thrust through the windshield and been found flat on his back in the middle of the road, his face unrecognizable. Alison, Frankie’s girlfriend, was thrown , sixteen feet the paper said, and lay in the irrigation ditch by the golf course, face down, also dead. The driver was found kneeling in the road, clutching his head in his hands, screaming, hysterical. All were close friends of Wade. Wade was on house arrest when it happened, playing video games. He found out the next morning. He got high again, he couldn’t deal , and he had flunked his next pee test; they put him back in custody.
The tree the kids hit was already a memorial by the next morning, surrounded by flowers and candles and banners and teddy bears and treasured CDs and a baseball. Someone had hung a banner on
the fence behind the tree and kids had filled it with their signature and sorrows, like a giant yearbook. Kids were signing the sheared section of the tree trunk with marking pens and knives. Kath had been there twice, once to lay flowers, once just to see the silent groups of kids gathered there. She saw an absorbed girl, carefully making her tribute perfect, a labored drawing on pink paper flanked by flowers and pictures; she looked like a child coloring.
The police had blocked off the road, but people parked a block away and walked up, their steps getting slower and slower. Wade hadn’t seen it yet, hadn’t signed or carved his name into the tree. The county let him out for the services, he was on house arrest for the day. The funeral was supposed to be therapeutic.
Kath had never been to a funeral that had so many kids, or in such a modern, California building, with stained glass images of sailboats and sunsets rather than the Biblical scenes of Kath’s childhood church. There was a collection of wooden crosses, at least eight of them, each one decorated differently, with notches or holes or scalloped wood or pastel paint. Wasn’t Christ supposed to be shown on the cross in a Catholic Church? Kath thought the crosses were too pretty. The Sarah McLachlan song. “Angel”, that was softly playing when the crowds streamed in seemed wrong too; shouldn’t it be Schubert or something? Kath kept picking white mohair tendrils off of her black suit , someone in a white fluffy sweater had hugged her.
The whole town was there, everyone who had ever known Frankie. Kath saw many familiar faces ; the woman she had volunteered with when Wade was in kindergarten; the dad who coached the 8th grade basketball, the guy from the candy store that all the kids went to after school. When Kath and Wade had walked up the stairs to the chapel, Wade seemed to know everyone. Kath was surprised how many times he disappeared into an embrace, and then he was gone with his friends. This was Wade’s town much more than it was Kath’s; Wade had spent his whole life here. Kath was more at home in the city where she worked every day, she liked the anonymity, to know no one in the coffee line.
‘Kath, Kath, is that you?”
Kath turned to see Joanne, her neighbor who had moved away two years ago.
“God, Kath, you don’t age!” Joanne whispered.
Joanne was wearing a low cut blouse, and her cleavage was traced with fine lines, sun damage it looked like.
“Oh, come on! But you look great.” They hugged briefly, barely touching.
“Terrible thing, huh? Patrick and Frankie were in football together.”
“Is Patrick here?”
“Yeah, he’s over there.” Patrick was tall and dark now, he had been a blond little boy. He had grown into his nose, and the dark glasses added to the effect. He looked like a man.
“How is Patrick?”
“Not so good. Didn’t want college, and he can’t hold a job. He is going to Arkansas to live with an uncle.
“Arkansas! What’s in Arkansas?. ”
“I know, but. . . .” Joanne held up crossed fingers.
“Where’s Paul? Did you guys ever get married? Haven’t you been together forever?”
“Oh, Paul didn’t really know Frankie, I always did Little League. No, we didn’t get married, we’re happy the way we are.”
Kath had already decided not to tell her anything about the trouble Wade was in.
“I better go sit down. The service is about to start. Can I get your email?”
Kath pulled out an ATM receipt and Joanne scrawled an address on it. They hugged again. They used to talk for hours, while the kids played, a long time ago. The music began to swell and Joanne moved down the aisle with a quick wave.
The older woman next to Kath whispered to her husband that the hymn “Here I am, Lord”, was one of her favorites, and they began to sing. They had already forgiven God for the death of Frankie, or blamed it on the alcohol, or were just at the funeral for closure. Kath shifted away, closer to the teenage girls on her other side. They had dressed up, done their hair and makeup, and carried their youth with an innocent pridefulness, and they were openly crying.
The boys with them were wrinkling their brows, rubbing their faces, and grimacing as they concentrated on the words in the program; some pretending they had something in their eye, some letting the tears flow.
Kath wanted to comfort one of them, the one with bad skin and broad back, right in front of her, the one who kept brushing his hair out of his eyes; he needed a haircut. She wanted to give him a Kleenex, to pat his back, to give him some kind of comfort; but it was no good. She couldn’t help him any more than she could help Wade.
It was time for the reflections and remembrances, and Frankie’s father had the strength to lead. Wade had gone fishing with Frankie and his dad, lots of the boys had, he was that kind of funny, capable, dad that everyone wished they had. Frankie’s dad led the crowd in imitating the sounds Frankie had made since elementary school, calling the sounds part of a cult, sort of a turkey call through cupped palms. Did Wade join in? Kath couldn’t see him.
And so it went. The uncle reading a poem about Frankie. The aunt bringing up the bad life choices. The baseball coach with the cracking voice, remembering that one great season. The inarticulate grandfather, struggling to read his wrinkled paper. Frankie’s earnest, brave friends, facing the huge crowd, wearing black ribbons that said “Frankie and Alison February 4. 2011” attached to their nicest shirts with tiny gold pins. Then the slide show, with Frankie as a baby, Frankie’s first step, Frankie with his siblings, with birthday cake and pumpkins and roasted turkey and Christmas trees and on fishing trips and Kath had to look away, gasping, feeling the people on either side of her looking, pushing the linty Kleenex into her eyes.
“Now they were praying the Lord’s Prayer, and the old words came back to her. Kath didn’t bow her head or fold her hands, she just stared off into space and mouthed half the words. She looked up and noticed that one of the skylight windows was clear rather than stained glass, and through it she could see the gray sky and one spindly branch of a tree.
The pastor said the blessing and benediction, and the family began to file out first, with “Consolation” by Liszt playing. Kath avoided people she recognized, she couldn’t chat, she felt too numb and didn’t know what she could say about Wade. The whole town probably knew anyway, small towns throb with gossip and news. Kath had always hated that common knowledge, that’s why she left Prince William, Maryland so long ago. And she wasn’t sure how long Wade had before the officer called the house. Wade had only been given a few hours out.
Kath made it to the parking lot, and saw the black Mustang parked in front. This morning Kath had driven by Frankie’s house, she didn’t know why; she felt drawn there. She saw Frankie’s dad looking into the trunk of the Mustang, he was already dressed for the service though it wasn’t for hours. As Kath drove by, she saw him reach up to close the trunk and sag there, barely holding on. He didn’t see her.
Wade sidled up out of nowhere.
“I’m going home with Vince.” He looked directly at her. Wade had the same delft blue eyes that Kath’s mom had, with those dark lashes.
“Be careful! You aren’t supposed to be out! Don’t stay long, the p.o . could call!”
“I won’t. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in jail like you want by tonight.”
Kath involuntarily reached out her arms to him, with a “No” rising in her throat. She didn’t want to shout after him, grab him, and blurt that all she wanted was for him to be safe, to do what they said, so he could get his life back, his freedom back. She couldn’t say those things her, and she watched him walk away, with that curious loping style he had. His hair looked good so short.
Kath drifted into the parking lot. She saw a boy, thin and bony, with the stretched, thin look of someone who had just grown several inches, his face contorted in anguish, walking through the parked cars; she thought she knew him, pizza delivery? She saw the administrators at Yerba Buena High School, three women, all wearing looks of professional sympathy; as if they were ready to start leading the seminars about teenage drugs and drinking that were probably already scheduled. They hadn’t helped Wade one bit, and Kath moved away from their gaze.
She saw Wade’s friend Luke, and stood about two feet away from him, knowing he wouldn’t want to be seen with a mom. He kept putting on his hat and taking it off again. Kath had never seen him without his ragged gray hoodie. She caught a glimpse of a new tattoo under the sleeve of his shirt, she thought you had to be eighteen.
“Where’s Wade?” Luke asked.
Kath gestured to the outbuildings of the church, where they used to have the parent meetings for the boy’s basketball. That was where you stored the snacks when you were team mom.
“I don’t know, but I just saw him a minute ago. Maybe he is in the reception room with Frankie’s mom and dad. You should go find him, I know he’d want to see you.”
“Oh yeah, I think I see him, his blue shirt.”Luke delicately moved away. He soon found a friend and shook his hand, bumping chests the way the boys did.
Kath squinted at the crowd on the patio in front of the all purpose room, and saw that Luke was right, she could see Wade being hugged by Frankie’s mom, and she wasn’t letting go.
Kath hadn’t known that Wade knew Frankie’s family so well; Kath had never met them. Before Wade went into custody, Kath had picked Wade up, drunk out of his mind, at 3 a.m. at Frankie’s house. He slumped in the seat and closed his eyes. It was the drunkest she had every seen him, or was it something else, too? Frankie’s parents were in Cancun that week.
It was still gray and chill, suddenly dark and grim again after a small burst of spring. The cherry and apple trees were losing all their blossoms to the wind, and the ground was plastered with them. She called Paul to pick her up.
Kath stood quietly for a few minutes , next to another woman who seemed to be waiting for someone. She wanted to see Wade in the crowd. He could have at least listened to the service with her, she wouldn’t get much of a chance to see him. It wasn’t very nice of him to ditch her this way, other parents sat with their teens. But Wade would never see it that way, getting angry at him had always made things worse.
Finally Kath started walking slowly to the back of the parking lot, she didn’t want to be picked up right in front. The car was so banged up, too, with the huge dent in the back and the crack in the windshield from Wade punching it. The front of the church should be saved for the family.
Kath heard the light tapping of a horn behind her, and there was Paul.
“Where is Wade?” Paul asked.
“He is going to go home with Vince.”
“Do you really think that is a good idea?”
Kath shrugged and put on her seatbelt. As they pulled forward, Paul saw Joanne in the groups of people mingling in the parking lot, and again tapped the horn. Joanne rushed over and stuck her head in the car window, giving Paul a quick kiss. Kath worried about the cars behind them, they shouldn’t be blocking the way.
“Paul, you two should come see me in Santa Rosa. I have a hot tub and a pool. I gave Kath my numbers. I even have a fold out couch, I’d love to see you!”
“Sounds great! Its been too long!”
“Paul, we better go, people are behind us,” Kath said, and he eased the car forward. He stuck his arm out of the window both in a final salute to Joanne and an apology to the waiting car behind them.
“Wow, she really wants us to come see her!” Paul said.
“Oh, I don’t think so. That’s just the kind of thing people say. She’d freak if we showed up.”
“No, Kath, I think she wants to see us.”
“Well, she gave me her email.”
“How did Wade do?”
“He sat with his friends, I didn’t see him. .”
“I just can’t believe that Frankie is gone. So sad.”
“Alison too.”
“Yeah, yeah. I guess her service was yesterday?”
“I think so.”
They drove home, past the library she used to take Wade to every Saturday, past the church where they had Cub Scouts, past the high school he stopped going to, past the hydrant Wade had driven into, and finally to their street. You could see Frankie’s house from the corner when you turned.
Several neighbors gave a little wave as they passed. The same neighbors who kindly looked the other way that day when Kath had chased Wade down the street, screaming and crying for him not to leave. He was on home supervision then and would be taken in if he left the house. The two men in the gray house discreetly kept raking their leaves, never looking their way. The older man right on the corner, who was working under his car, had heard it all, but didn’t move.
There was a creek that divided their neighborhood down the middle, and the other side of the street continued beyond it. Wadehad run into the creek, crashing through the poison oak, despite her desperate screaming, and there was a boy Kath had never seen before waiting for him on the other side. Neither of them turned to look back at her.
By chance, Paul had pulled up in his Jeep.
“Kath, get in the car! Don’t be out here with it in public!’
Kath shook her head and walked along the street, sobbing and clutching her stomach. Paul manuevered the jeep close to her.
“Cmon, Kath, get in. If he left, he left. There isn’t anything you can do about it. Just come home.”
Kath kept walking, shaking her head. She saw the young couple she knew working in their yard, and she couldn’t bear to see them. She had become an hysterical, desperate, screaming mother. She stopped, and Paul threw open the door so she could climb in. Eventually, Wade had come home. Like he would today.
When they pulled up to the house Banjo parted the vertical shades with his nose to peer out, barking eagerly.The black suit and heels had been to court a few times, now it had done double duty for the funeral. She had a huge hole in her stocking, though, she hadn’t noticed earlier. Kath put on jeans and a sweatshirt and drifted back to the front of the house.
Paul sat in his Eames chair, his usual place. He turned CNN on, but muted the sound. He flipped through a stereo magazine.
“Do you want some tea, Paul?” Coffee would just make her more tense.
“When is Wade supposed to be back?”
“He didn’t say a time. I hope it’s alright that he gets a ride with someone else, no one told me not to.”
“You didn’t tell him what time to come home? Do you think that was a good idea? I thought you were always supposed to be clear with him.”
“Well, he knows he has to come back.”
“He’s your child, I know, I just hope you are doing the right thing. You have to be consistent.”
“You always do that, you know? I’m not blaming you, we both set things up this way, but you always take one step back from being the parent.”
“But that was what we decided from the beginning, that we didn’t want Wade to call me dad and stuff, that you had the final say.” Paul raised his arms between a shrug and surrender.
“I know, I know, that’s the way I wanted it.” They had been together since Wade was three. This was the first time she had wanted more. She could always handle the school issues and the doctors and the cooking and shopping and the homework on her own.
Kath turned into the kitchen. Lately she felt like Paul was talking too much, and always saying the same things. That Kath had to be consistent. That Kath shouldn’t have let him out for the Super Bowl. She should cut his allowance. The day Wade kicked in the wall Kath should have been there. Wade should fix some of the things he had broken. That somehow it was her fault.That everything would be alright. That they would look back on this year and laugh. That she had to be consistent. That she had to be tough, but still show him she loved him. That being tough would show him she loved him. That she shouldn’t baby him. That everything would be alright. That they would get through it.
Everything was rubbing her the wrong way.. Any little thing could set her off. Kath had found herself crying at stoplights. And when she saw young children with their parents, she had to look away. They didn’t know how fleeting that love and closeness could be, they couldn’t even conceive of it ending.
Kath turned on the kettle. On the refrigerator, there was a picture of Wade , about four years old, on a pony. Paul must have dug it up somewhere. Wade’s hair was bright blond then, and he looked so happy. The next day, he complained of a stomach ache, and the doctor told them it was appendicitis. He had to have surgery right away. Kath had held his heavy, sweet weight in her lap when they gave him the anesthetic, and he smiled at her right before his eyes rolled back in his head from the drugs. The masked doctor took him from her and turned to go down the hall into the operating theater. He swore he would take good care of him over his shoulder. Kath hadn’t wanted to hand him over. It still felt the same, to have the authorities in charge of Wade. Except they didn’t care about him this time, he was just a punk kid. Kath took down the picture and slid it into the dish towel drawer.
Kath stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, just a few feet from Paul’s chair. No sign of Vince’s car outside. She was so sick of seeing Paul always sitting in that damn chair. At least he had left off the orange chenille throw that he usually tucked around himself, that she always folded and put back on the bench in the hallway. She sipped her tea, facing into the living room from the open kitchen door. Paul swiveled to face her, and she heard the Eames chair squeak slightly.
“Kath, all this is taking a toll on our relationship. We need to get some romance back, maybe take a vacation, you know?”
Kath smiled, hoping she looked agreeable and accepting, so he wouldn’t label her as being negative again. She could give a fuck about their relationship right now, it was the lowest of her priorities, and if he thought she could enjoy a vacation now, he was nuts.
“Really, Kath, we haven’t been anywhere in a while, not even to a movie.”
“We had fun in New York that time.”
“That was over a year ago, Kath!” Before it all happened, or most of it.
“Well, maybe when this is all over, we can go to Kauai or something.”
“When will this all be over?”
“The judge makes a ruling on March 11.”
“I just have to say, Kath, this is really getting old. All you do is worry and obsess about Wade. I’m getting tired of it. I don’ t want to deal with it anymore.”
“I don’t have the luxury of getting tired of it. I’m in it until the end.”
“Maybe it is time to let go, to let Wade make the decisions, even if they are bad .You always babied him.”
Kath said nothing, and turned back into the kitchen. What if Wade didn’t come home? What if he did something crazy, like try to run away? What if she lost him all the way? Paul didn’t know that Wade told her he wished he had died instead of Frankie. He told her when she last visited him in the hall and tears had sprung to his eyes when he said it.
Frankie couldn’t be dead. How could Wade deal with it? Who would he talk to? Wade never talked to Kath anymore. Ty had sat in his cell mourning alone these last few days. He should have been with her, but it seemed that she was no help to him now. How was sitting in jail going to help him quit drugs? As soon as he got out, would it be the same?
Kath sat down at the kitchen table and leafed through the paper. She couldn’t read. He had to come home, he had too, before they called or came to the house.
“Kath, remember, it could be worse. What if you were going through what Frankie’s parents are going through right now? At least Wade still has a future, you know, he’ll get out and we can move on from this, right?” Paul was speaking to her through the wall.
“Right, I know, I know, I should try to feel that way, I should.”
Wade had to come home. There was no way to get in touch with him. She didn’t know Vince’s number, she wasn’t even sure how to spell his last name. Just for a second, she lay her head down on the Arts and Leisure section and breathed in the inky smell. He had to come home. Then they would go on. She’d figure it all out. Banjo came and sat next to her, putting his head in her lap. She stroked his soft head.
Kath started to cry silently into the paper. Paul had turned CNN back on and he couldn’t hear her. It was so deep in her, that stab of guilt and fear. She got that feeling at night sometimes, waking up with that ache in her head, and those thoughts. The time Wade had been punched in the stomach by a friend who came over while she was at a class. The time his friend ditched him and he didn’t know how to get home on the bus and he called her at work, crying. The time his friend from the neighborhood told him “You can go now” when he was standing with him and his friends on the first day of second grade. The time Kath had said she hoped his therapist was doing him some good and his face crumbled.
All the times she couldn’t protect him or help him and now she had lost him.When everything began to turn, she should have done more. She should have waited up more and called his friends more and not defended him so much, maybe she did baby him too much. She should have told him she had found the dope and the other stuff. She should have stopped him and saved him. She had wanted to make his life better than hers had been, and instead she had lost him. Just like Frankie was lost. Kath couldn’t go on.
“Here comes Wade.” Paul said.
“Oh, thank God.” She straightened the papers and got up.
Thriller in the scary night
