Life Interrupted

The school year is winding down, with only a couple of days left until vacation. I am seated in the back corner of the last row of the last class for the day. I am daydreaming, staring out the window over the pristine front lawn of Parkersburg High School, the grass glistening in the afternoon sun. My dreams are on the upcoming summer, planning every moment of how I will spend my break. At fifteen, I am finally being given the freedom to stay home alone, make my own fun. Sure, there are things I will have to do, such as soccer practices, soccer camp, and church camp, that will take up some of my free time, but the rest is mine to enjoy and create my own destiny.

A piercing ringing of the phone shatters my fantasy, but it also interrupts the droning on of Mr. Matthews. No one is listening. The final was at the end of last week, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to cling to the last opportunities to pass on knowledge. It is what he is known for. He is clearly disgruntled by the call, barking at us to stay silent as he stalks to his desk to take the call. The conversation is short, a series of ‘yes’, before he slams the receiver back on the cradle. None of that is unusual in this school, as all the teachers do similarly.

“Samantha,” Mr. Matthews drawls out my name, staring daggers into me. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, confusion obvious on my face. I have never been in trouble, nor have I ever called down to any office in my entire school career, except for doctor’s appointments. All of those I knew about. This is out of the blue, and my thoughts are begging to spiral even as he continues, “Grab your things and head to the office.”

I obey as the class mocks with a chorus of ‘oohs’, filling the small, makeshift room. I hear none of them as anxiety takes over, propelling me from the room even as Mr. Matthews works to regain order. What starts as a calm walk out of the storage room in the Field House, now a classroom because of construction, evolves into a dead sprint. My feet race toward the office as my backpack swings against my back, hitting my hips as I run. I know something has happened. In my gut, I can feel something has happened; one of my parents won’t be coming home ever again. I just don’t know which one. Even as I run, I practice my breathing, trying not to break down in the halls as I sprint to the office.

The second I burst through the office doors, sliding to a halt in the middle of the open doorway, I am surprised to see Diane, one of my mother’s friends, standing there, talking with the secretary as she filled out paperwork. She looks shaken, her eyes darting anywhere that isn’t me. Her short hair is a mess, and her clothes are mismatched, entirely out of character for her, almost as if she grabbed whatever she could find to rush over here and gather me. My heart sinks further as I try to catch my breath, my heart sinking as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. “What happened?”

Diane avoids looking at me, meet my eyes, but I catch a subtle shake of her head. “I don’t know, Sam. All your Mom told me was to come get you and take you to the hospital. I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice frantic as she moves toward the door I am still blocking. I move out of the way, following her to her van illegally parked outside the ornate front doors. If Mom got her here, then I have lost my father, but I fight the urge to break down.

Instead, I slide into the front seat, a stoic look on my face, numbness taking over. Diane is muttering about how sorry she is, never stopping to check if I am even listening. In her own panic, I can tell she is on the verge of a complete meltdown, veering sharply as she steers the car. I darkly wonder if we will make it to the hospital, only a couple blocks away, in one piece. Maybe it would be fitting if we wrecked, forcing my family to divide and conquer. Perhaps that would keep Dad alive, even if only for a few hours more. But the road is empty, and she navigates to the front of the emergency room doors without incident, still apologizing frantically. I don’t give Diane the chance to say more, rushing out of the car to make a beeline for the sliding doors. Even my haste doesn’t stop her from screaming through the open window, “Whatever happens, you have to stay strong for your Mom! She has it worse!”

———

The hospital chapel is sterile, with dim lights, white walls, and a horribly outdated tan carpet. I don’t remember who led me to this room as I focus on the back wall where family and friends are sobbing. All of their heads snap to the door when I appear, their eyes softening as they look to my mother in the middle of the mess. She can’t bring her eyes up to meet mine, shaking her head as if to signify that it is too soon for my arrival. “Mom?” My question is soft as my own voice begins to break. Someone’s arms wrap me in a hug, but I am blinded by the tears filling my own eyes.

“Honey,” Mom finally begins, dragging her eyes from the floor to meet mine, but before she can say the words I know. Dad isn’t coming home. She begins to say, “Your Daddy,” but I don’t hear the end of the sentence, lost to my cries.

“No. No, no, no…” I can hear the words trail off as my knees give way, dragging whoever is holding me to the floor with me. I can hear my mother break again, losing what little composure she had gotten together to tell me. I lose track of time, all of us silent, sobbing with our own grief. We stay like that until the door opens, a solemn-looking doctor appearing in the doorway. He takes a moment, studying the room as if trying to find the people who belong to my father, but the truth is, we all do.

“If you would like to say a final goodbye to Mr. Cooper before the funeral home comes, I can take you back,” he offers, his voice low and deep, somber for the occasion. He is uncomfortable when I get to my feet, nodding.

“Please.” The word is more a whispered prayer than a demand. No one in the room tries to stop me. My mother steps up to accompany me back to the room, though I can’t tell if it is something she truly wants. My aunt claims the spot on the other side of me, and the doctor nods, turning to lead us down a short stretch of hall to a private room, opening the door for us to enter.

I hesitate for a moment, fear paralyzing me to the spot even as I know I have to do this. I have to see for myself that he is really gone or I’ll never believe it. With a steadying breath, I gather what little courage I have and enter the room, taking measured steps to the bed where my father lies. A white sheet covers the majority of his body, only leaving his face visible. For a second, I don’t believe it. He looks too peaceful. I have never seen my father look like that. Then my eyes fixate on the bit of tape left near his nose, drawing his trademark mustache into an unnatural position, and the realization hits me.

Slowly, I reach for his hand, needing to find some form of comfort, but I am met with the cold, unfeeling flesh, and I break. “Daddy.” The word is barely a whisper, but it draws my aunt and mother to me, surrounding me in what little comfort they can offer.

———

The red brick home is packed with people, filling every available inch of space. I gingerly move through the space, offering glasses of water and Diet Coke, the only drinks we have in the house, trying to take up as little space as possible. These people, more family and friends, are not here for me. They have swarmed around my mother to offer clichés. Their voices clash together, sounding like nails on a chalkboard to me, and I fight the urge to cringe.

Once the tray is empty, I return to the kitchen, where people are trying to rearrange the fridge to accommodate the influx of casseroles that have already begun to arrive. For a moment, I think about sneaking upstairs, locking myself in my bedroom to pretend this day never happened, though I know I would never hear the end of it. My job is to be a good host and take care of the swarm of well-wishers that have gathered at the house. “Sam, can you come hold this for a moment?” my aunt asks, drawing my attention.

“Sure,” I numbly respond, moving with lead feet to take the casserole from her hand so she can better attempt the disastrous game of food Tetris she is playing. There is no way the two of us will ever be able to eat this much food, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

“Thank you, dear,” she finally says, taking the casserole to slide it into the space she has just created. When she stands up, she pulls me into a hug I don’t feel, though I attempt to hug her back, my eyes limply wrapping around her.

“Yeah. Can you cover me for a moment? I need some air.”

“Of course. Do you want Emma to go with you?”

I appreciate my aunt not wanting me to be alone, but that is what I need at the moment. I shake my head, tears beginning to form in my eyes again. “Thanks, but no. I just need a moment alone.”

She nods, and I can see the pity in her eyes as I move toward the back door. Already I have begun to hate the pitying looks that seem to follow me as I move throughout the house. As my hand hit the handle of the backdoor, Coach’s voice halts me in my tracks. “Sam, you want to come with me for a bit?”

Turning, I nod, the tears freely coming now, and I stubbornly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I have known my high school soccer coach since I was a young child, growing up with his own daughter, attending the same church. He leads me to the glider on the front porch, navigating the still overly-full house. Taking a seat at one end of the bench, he sits down beside me, remaining an arm’s length away. “You don’t have to say anything, but I’m here if you want to talk.” His words strike me as odd given he has always been a man of few words, and I can only bring myself to nod once more, tears silently falling from my eyes.

We sit there for a long time, each silently thinking about the day. There are so many things I want to say, scream, but I can’t do anything but sit there and silently cry. Slowly, Coach puts his arm around my shoulder, and I can’t help but lean into his touch, needing to feel the hug of a father at least one more time. Though it isn’t from the man I want.

“Why?” The word slips out of me, masked in a sob. I know he won’t have an answer. No one does.

Coach shakes his head, rocking the glider as he does, and lets out a long sigh. “I know what our faith teaches us, and I am sure you have heard that repeatedly today already. It doesn’t help. All I know is you can only put one foot in front of the other and keep going. That is how you honor your Dad’s memory. It’s what he would want, and you don’t have to do it alone.”

He’s right, of course, but I barely hear the words, so lost in my own grief. The front door opens, and my mother stands in the frame, scowling until she sees Coach sitting there, then turns away to walk back to the couch. I am sure that is my cue to head back in, but my legs are weak. Coach picks up on the sign, too, standing to help me to my feet and give a hug. “I understand if you aren’t up for it, but the three weeks of summer practices start Monday. It might help to have a bit of normalcy.”

“Thanks, Coach. I’ll try to be there.” Even as I say it, I know there is a good chance I won’t be. Already, I know my dream summer is over before it ever started.

— — —

After hours of entertaining people, the house is silent, empty of people, and the only noise comes from the television. My mother is on the couch, her eyes red and puffy from crying all day. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, but I can tell she doesn’t see. She looks as though she is about to fall asleep on the couch, though I doubt either of us will actually sleep tonight. Grabbing the controller, I click the power button before turning to the broken shell of a woman. “Mom, why don’t we get you up to bed? I’ll come back down and clean up after,” I offer, trying to coax her from the couch.

I’m surprised when she lets me manhandle her, guide her up the stairs to her bedroom on the right, and help her into bed. Nothing else matters. “Margaret gave me a Xanax for tonight to help me sleep as we met with the funeral home. Would you get me a glass of water?”

I nod, disappear for a moment, and by the time I return, Mom has changed into pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed. I hand her the glass and watch as she downs the small pill before trying to ease herself back onto the pillows. She rolls away from me, and I turn off the light, leaving her to try and sleep. I head back downstairs, loading the dishwasher with all the glasses and dishes used throughout the day, and then make sure it is running. On silent feet, I step out onto the back porch, my mind racing. There is one call I need to make, but haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.

Pulling my cell from the back pocket of my jean shorts, I scroll through the contacts, my finger hovering over the call button when it lands on the number I need to call. I’m searching my brain for the words to say, but I haven’t found an answer when my finger places the call. It only takes a couple of rings before Bill answers, his voice soft. “Sam, I’m so sorry.” From his greeting, it is obvious someone has already told him. He was friends with my parents long before we ever met, before he became a mentor to me.

I shake my head even as I know he can’t see it. “No, I’m sorry. I should have called sooner. I really didn’t want you to find out from the news or someone else.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. What do you need me to do?”

I let out a sob. While I have only known him for a couple of years, Bill has already become a safe space for me, and so I don’t find the tears that spill from me. “Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you knew before it was everywhere.” I can’t bring myself to admit that I wanted to hear his voice, feel like someone was there for me, and not focus on my mother.

Bill is silent for a long while, giving me time to cry. “How are you?”

I can’t help chuckling through my tears. “Honestly, I have no idea. Most of me can’t believe this is real when I’m not completely numb. I’ve had to stay strong because Mom has completely fallen apart. And, I feel guilty because I know this has completely ruined any plans I had for the summer, which seems incredibly selfish given I’ll never see Dad again.”