The Rainy Night in Georgia

Imagine if you can, the cold, rainy night in Georgia that created a hard dividing line for my life: before and after. I’m living the ‘after’ but it’s damn hard to send my mind reeling back into that night. But I think it’s important to share. Sigh. Here goes:

November 6th of 1997 we were all three working at the Renaissance Concourse Hotel in Atlanta. Our daughter Jennifer at front desk, me in convention sales, and Marvin as concierge. A title he loved and elevated to its highest definition.

Jennifer was actually in Washington, DC, having been flown there by corporate Marriott execs to interview for a promotion. We were very proud parents and hopeful her career was about to be launched into the stratosphere of the hospitality industry. Ashley was still in high school and had a part-time job at an Italian restaurant.

Darkness had descended early on that freezing wet November day, like a curtain blocking out any signs of light in the universe. Only car headlights and streetlamps struggled against the veil.

I was in the photocopy room with my back to the door when I felt hot breath on my neck. “Here’s some money,” a voice said, and a hand went into my slacks’ pocket. “Pick up some fried chicken or something on your way home. I’m outa here.”

His voice sounded weak and tired but I smiled and said I would. “Be careful,” I cautioned. “It’s raining.”

“Yep,” came the standard reply.

The machine beeped with my finished copies and he slipped away with a quick ass grab. So juvenile, I thought, wondering if he would ever outgrow those boyish instincts.

At five I packed up my desk and headed out into the dark, wet parking lot, noticing that Marvin’s black Buick was still in the lot. Then I remembered that he was “test driving” a hotel guest’s Pontiac Sunbird; she wanted to sell it and he said he would help her. But he had to test it out first to see if it needed work.

I headed home, fighting the snarled traffic that is always worse when it rains. I cursed and decided to get home as soon as I could so I would not stop for food. I felt sure there was something in the frig I could make. I had that “going to the dentist” or about to speak to a large crowd knot in my stomach.

There were two ways to get from Atlanta to Griffin and I exited at the first available route. I hate driving in the rain, after dark, and had a sense of foreboding that drove me toward our little rental house. My windshield kept frosting over and the wipers couldn’t keep up with the deluge. “Fuck!” I yelled, probably more than once. Did I mention I hate driving in the rain? After dark? In heavy traffic?

I turned onto our street and immediately noticed there was no car in our driveway. No lights were on in the house.

As I slammed the little Plymouth wagon into park and jumped out of the car, I saw mail sticking out of our mailbox.

Where is he?

Why isn’t he home?

Did he go for food, not wanting to wait for me? No, he would have left lights on. And gotten the mail.

As I raced toward the back door I prayed, “God, don’t let this be bad. Please, God. Don’t let this be bad.”

I heard Blackie, our lab mix, barking from inside the kitchen. Poor thing had not been let out since morning, apparently.

As I opened the door, she raced past me to relieve herself and I realized the phone was ringing. With a sense of mixed dread and hopefulness, I snatched it off the cradle. “Hello?”

“Is this the residence of…” A long pause, then, “Marvin Barnhart?” asked a deep male voice.

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, this is the Griffin Police Department. There’s been an accident and you need to get to the hospital right away.”

Despite my questions, he refused to give me any further information, stating that they had found me after calling the Lavonia Police Department (where we had been living and running Southern Trace Inn for many years). I hung up, my mind racing with questions, primarily how to get to the hospital. I had no idea.

As Blackie came back inside, her tail wagging, her face smiling with joy at someone finally being home, I apologized to her, shut the door, and quickly backed out of the driveway. My heart was pounding. Stuff like this is always handled by Marvin. I felt scared and alone. And I had no idea where to go.

Then I remembered a blue ‘hospital’ sign near the grocery store, so I headed that way and turned to follow the arrow. Soon, I was in the parking lot of a white institutional building within which lurked my future. My very life was behind those electronic sliding doors. I was not yet in a full-blown panic, having believed for over thirty years that Marvin was invincible. But I was ready-to-throw-up scared.

At the desk I asked about a patient admitted from a car accident and was quickly and silently shown into a treatment room. “The doctor will be with you in a moment,” I was told. It was said in a way to prevent my asking her any questions, so I didn’t.

A man in a white lab coat soon stepped in, pulled the curtain, and said something like, “Mrs. Barnhart, your husband was in a very bad car accident. I’m told it was head-on. We did everything we could but he did not make it. The coroner will be making a complete report for you. There’s also a police report he can share with you. Here’s his card if you have any questions.”

He handed me a business card and walked out of the room. I was stunned. Beyond stunned really. It was as though I were a clock and had simply stopped. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I couldn’t even cry. What I felt was so far beyond what tears could wash away. The effort to cry was too much for me. I couldn’t summon the energy to cry.

A nurse walked up to me and asked if there was anyone she could call. No cell phones then. I told her my daughter was working at Guido’s Italian Restaurant. Could someone go get her and bring her to me?

“Yes,” she said softly, and walked away. I continued to sit, lost and sad. So sad. So helpless.

Soon…or a long time later…time was suspended…Ashley came in and I had to explain to her what happened. She asked about Jennifer and then I remembered that she would be arriving back at Atlanta Airport. Soon? I looked at the large wall clock. Amazingly, it had not stopped. Why was the world still going on, I wondered? Then I told her we had to go home so I could make some calls.

Together we walked out into the relentless cold rain, silent, not crying, just letting the rain soak into our souls. Honestly, I don’t remember much of the rest of that night. I do remember calling the hotel and speaking with my boss, Judy Turner-Meyer. Bless her. A hard, cold, demanding woman turned into a solid rock of support. I told her about Jennifer and how she would be arriving at the hotel via the shuttle bus to get her car. Would she intercept Jennifer and give her the news?

She did. The next thing I remember is sitting on the sofa with Jennifer and telling her what I knew of the night’s events. I told her the coroner had said we could view the body but I had declined. She had a different idea and insisted she had to see her dad. “I have to see him, Mom.”

And so we did. We went back to the hospital and stood in an ice-cold room where the very kind coroner pulled out the tray and left us alone. He looked fine, as though he were sleeping. How could he be gone? I wanted to collapse on the floor but I couldn’t let myself do that. What would be the point? That would accomplish nothing. It wouldn’t make him wake up, get off that metal table and tell me it was a joke. I was at the bottom of a barrel of sadness and there was no help or hope in sight. Nothing mattered except my daughters. I knew he would want me to keep them from falling apart. I was no longer a wife but I was still a mother. I had to put one foot in front of the other and move.

For the next few days and weeks, I did everything I was supposed to do. Only in private moments did I sink to my knees and sob. It took me weeks to throw away bathroom things like his toothbrush and razor. That was so hard. It broke me. I felt shattered, like broken glass on the floor. Other times I felt like an amputee, dragging myself around with missing limbs. I was no longer part of a duo. I was half.

Ashley’s life, as she sought comfort, changed in massive and profound ways. Jennifer’s life too changed dramatically. Some relationships crumbled; others were built from scratch.

All because of the cold rainy November night that changed everything.