Sarah Flanigan - Poetry Simply Put

Little white chevy
I mourn your passing too much
to utter aloud.

copyright 2007

Blessed night came and I got the kids settled down. Paul sat on the sofa, listening to soft, lovely music. He had that out-of-this-world look and stared at his own thoughts. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Are they asleep?” Paul asked, knowing I was there.

I collapsed into the beanbag chair. “They’re pretending to be.”

Paul smiled. “They’re so mature. I expected them to be smaller.”

“They were, when you left them.” I couldn’t help myself.

Paul took a hankie from his pocket and waved it. “Truce? At least until I’m dead. Then you can hate me all you want.”

I couldn’t respond because I was terrified I’d burst into tears. Again.

“Either we’re on the same side or we’re not, sis.”

I nodded. “Okay. Truce.”

******

After Paul went to bed, I looked in on the kids. The bedside lamp was on, but covered with a pillow case casting a low light. Robby’s answer to no night-light.

“Robby, why do you hate Daddy so much?” Emily asked.

Robby sighed. “He ain’t our dad.”

“Mommy said he is. She wouldn’t lie to us.” Emily insisted.

Robby punched his pillow. “Because he’s a jerk, okay? I hate him because he’s a jerk.”

I knocked lightly on the door and came in. “Hey, you guys should be sleeping,” I smiled. “The Sandman is falling down on the job again.”

Emily giggled but Robby sulked.

“Annie, is my daddy a jerk?” Emily asked.

I sat on the floor between their two beds. “No, honey. He’s not always good at making decisions but he’s not a jerk. He has a good heart.”

“That’s what you say,” Robby snorted.

“Robby, look, you’re old enough now that you have to behave a little better.” I tried to take his hand but he pulled away from me. “I know you’re pissed. I don’t blame you. I would be too.”

“Then why did you make us come here?” he griped.

“Because part of growing up is doing things that you don’t necessarily want to do. Sometimes, even if you hate it, you have to do the right thing.” I looked into his deep blue eyes, Paul’s eyes, and hoped I was reaching him.

“So I gotta be nice to him because he’s going to die?” Robby sneered.

“All I’m saying is don’t mix up your anger at him with hate. You don’t hate your father. You love him. That’s why you’re so mad.”

“Yeah, right,” he said and turned his back to me.

“Is Daddy scared, because he’s going to die, Annie?” Emily asked.

I stroked her soft cheek. “No, honey, I think your daddy understands that part. But I think he’s worried that he won’t be able to show you how much he loves you before he does though.”

Emily thought about it for a minute. “Then why’d he leave us?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I only know that you have a chance to see him now. I hope when you’re older you’ll think of it as a gift that God gave you.”

“Like my angel?” Emily whispered.

I hugged her. “Yes, sweet girl, just like your angel.”

****

Paul:
The morning sun caressed my face, its warmth a soft hand on my cheek. I smiled at the goldness and felt good to be in my own bed. I remembered that my sister and my kids were here with me. My stomach did that flip-flop that made my mind race ahead of itself. But there wasn’t time to dwell on it. I didn’t know how much time I had to do everything.

I got up and thanked God for giving me a chance with Emily and Robby. Even if it went bad, it didn’t matter. Being near them for even a few minutes was worlds better than to have left without seeing them at all.

My feet were cold, but I couldn’t find my slippers. My stomach growled. I was so hungry. Breakfast! I felt inspired to cook.

The house was asleep. Annie was on the sofa, smiling in her sleep. Like when we were kids. I always wondered if her dreams were that sweet or if her mouth just couldn’t help itself. When I entered the kitchen, I discovered my slippers on my Emily’s feet. I was in awe of that beautiful, little creature. How could I have had a part in her creation? God gave me a gift I’d never anticipated.

She talked to herself, or maybe the angel she said watched over me. “Yes,” she murmured, “Uh huh.”

“Morning, little one.” I tousled her russet curls.

Her face was better than sunshine. “Morning, Daddy-o.”

I made coffee, toast and eggs. The room filled with buttery, warm smells. “How’s my angel?”

Emily gave the question some consideration. “Fine. He said that God loves you.” The gold flecks in her eyes gleamed.

We ate and talked and laughed. It felt just so normal, as if we’d done it all our lives. I prayed I’d carry her face with me when I left this life. Certain it would give me the courage to face what would come next.

Annie stumbled in. She listened to me and Emily and derived contentment from our nonsense.

My little cloud, Robby, joined us too. He made sure I saw his resentment. He refused any food my hand had touched. He ate cold cereal after sniffing it, the bowl spoon and the milk. “You look like a puppy,” Emily laughed, “Smelling everything.”

I drank my coffee and read the paper. Robby scrutinized me like a science lab specimen. Annie and Emily were doing girl stuff in the bathroom.

“Is there something you want to say to me?”

“No.” Robby left the room.

“You’re doing good. He’s coming around,” Annie teased, appearing out of nowhere.

“You call that coming around?” I joked.

“It’s a start,” Annie said.

I took in the sight of my sister and my daughter, two beauties from the same planet. Emily could have been Annie’s daughter and I wished for her sake that she was.

“We’re going to get our hair done,” Annie announced. “You boys must fend for yourselves.”

The terror in my eyes made the girls laugh. They kissed my cheek, wished me luck and left.

Robby groaned when he found them gone. “And I’m supposed to babysit you?” he griped.

“I’m going to paint. You can do whatever you want.” I said as if I didn’t care but my heart pounded so hard that I worried the neighbors could hear it.

He pretended not to watch as I mixed the paints and daubed the canvas. I felt his eyes follow every move. I felt his interest.

“Somebody teach you that?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just sort of taught myself. I wanted to take lessons when I was your age.”

“Then why didn’t you?” the question was a dare.

“My folks didn’t have the money for foolish things,” I said casually but felt the hurt that I felt then.

Robby laughed. It sounded good. His laugh. I wanted to hear it again.

“Parents,” he complained. “They never think you know what’s important. If they don’t think of it, then it’s not important. Right?”

I nodded and kept painting. I knew if I kept painting, he’d keep talking. I mixed paints in vain, trying to find the exact color of green of Annie’s eyes. I cursed to myself.

He came up behind me and studied my work. “It looks like her.”

“You think so?” I asked feeling hopeful.

He grunted an affirmative. “Like how she looks on the inside,” he said thoughtfully. My heart did a triple axle. My son understood what I was trying to do.

I gave him the brush. “Want give it a shot?”

His face became a grin. “I don’t know nothing…”

“It’s the color of her eyes,” I said. “I can’t find the right mix…”

**********

Annie:
When we got back, they were covered in paint and laughing. Emily looked up at me and said, “Look, Annie. They like each other!” I let out a breath I’d been holding since I got there. Maybe it would be okay. Happy tears warmed my cheeks. I hugged Emily. “You’re right.”

********

Paul:
I checked the clock, three a.m. If I worked a little longer, I knew I could finish. When they woke up, they’d see it. I felt such joy at the thought. Dawn. Finished. I got the insurance papers and everything she’d need for the kids and put them on the kitchen table. It was time. I woke them.

*****

Annie:
We huddled on the vinyl couch in the hospital waiting room. Robby and Emily cried and whimpered. Barbara sat across from us, trying not to invade our grief. Emily said, “Want to sit with us?” She patted next to her. Barbara joined us. She took my hand and squeezed it. I was thankful she was there and didn’t care if I owed her anything anymore. The doctor came out, dressed in surgical greens. “Are you going to operate?” I was frantic.

The doctor nodded. “One of his lungs has collapsed.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Follow me,” she said.

She took us into Paul’s room. He’d aged twenty years since he’d arrived. The sound he made to breathe scared all of us.

Paul lit up at the sight of us. “Hey Doc did you meet my kids? This is Emily. She’s going to be a movie star when she grows up. Robby is going to be a great painter, just like his old man.”

The doctor smiled and told us we only had a few minutes.

He grinned at us. “Hey what are you doing so far away?”

We went to him, crying but trying to smile.

Robby hugged him the best he could amongst all the tubes and wires going in and out of Paul. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, son.” Paul whispered.

“Daddy, are you going to Heaven now?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know honey,” he said. “But give me a hug just in case.”

Robby picked up Emily so she could hug Paul’s neck.

The doctor looked in and nodded at me. It was time to leave. “Okay kids, say good bye to your daddy.”

Paul took my hand, “On the kitchen table…I have papers….”

“I’ll find them. Don’t worry. I’ll find them.” I put my cheek to his, our tears mixed.

“Thank you, Annie. For loving my kids…for loving me.”

“What about Mom and Dad?” I knew he’d never make it through the surgery. “What should I tell them?”

He whispered in my ear, “Tell them I died happy.”

My spirit always raised a little whenever I saw Robby and Emily. They reminded me so much of me and Paul at their ages. The way Robby leaned in to show that he was Emily’s protector to any stranger who might have looked her way. How her eyes shone when she looked into his stern and handsome face. “Robby! Emily!” I called out. So many laughs and hugs and giggles. Like old times. Who cared that we were in a crazy airport being bumped and tripped over by strangers? Robby was a bean pole who wanted to be a star pitcher for the Detroit Tigers. He was never without the ratty cap my dad got him from the first game they saw together. Emily was an Irish beauty in miniature, with wavy auburn hair and sparkly green eyes. He was twelve and very serious about approaching adulthood. She was eight and still believed in Santa Claus. What a pair.
On the drive to Paul’s house in Cambridge, Emily asked, “Annie, where’s my daddy?”
“He’s Annie’s brother,” Robby corrected her. “We don’t have a dad.”
Emily’s face clouded. “We do too! Right, Annie?”
I narrowed my eyes in the rearview mirror at Robby. “That’s right, Em. We’ll see him soon. At the hospital.”

Robby slunked down in the backseat like a prisoner on Death Row. “How long do we have to stay?” He didn’t wait for an answer because he knew one wasn’t coming. After a quick, cold stare at me in the mirror he pulled his sketchbook and colored pens from his backpack and doodled.

****

Paul’s apartment was a happy surprise. He had antiques that were grand and deep and rich in color and other funny little things that he probably found in thrift shops. Goofy, bright-colored bowls, a lava lamp and a bean bag chair.

I knew it was Paul, but a Paul I didn’t know.

Paul had framed and hung his charcoal sketches on the walls. Three big bay windows let in so much sunshine that the room almost smiled. His cherished easel, paints and brushes sat right next to that lovely light. I saw an unfinished painting of a woman who looked familiar. When I took a closer look, I saw it was me, in another life and time. An old Polaroid of me was clipped to the top of the easel. I was touched that he’d wanted to paint me and that I had remained a part of his life, though I didn’t know.

Emily was openly curious and nosed around, looking into everything and every room. “This is neat!” she declared.

Robby froze only a few feet into the apartment and looked like something would jump out and swallow him up if he moved. He pretended to shiver, “Gives me the creeps.”

I had to coax Robby the whole way down the hallway while Emily could barely control her excitement. “Come on!” she called out and disappeared into the back room. I felt encouraged, a little, maybe Robby would be the only tough nut to crack in this situation. She’d probably melt when she saw her father.

Robby said, “I don’t think we should stay here, Annie. What if… what if?” An Academy Award performance, it wasn’t.

Emily popped her head out the door. “What if what?”

I gave Robby the evil eye and he relented. “Nothing, geek.”

Emily stuck out her tongue at him and disappeared back into the room.

Robby pouted. “Okay, but I’m not going to talk to him. You can’t make me. Can’t make me like him.”

The small guestroom was just big enough for a couple of twin beds and a dresser.

“Where are you going to sleep, Annie?” Emily asked concerned.

Robby ripped off the bed clothes from the bed.

“Robby, stop it!”

Robby wouldn’t look at me. “I’m not going to catch what he’s got!” He screamed like an injured animal. He kicked and screamed some more. Emily cried and backed into a corner.

“Robby, stop it!” I yelled though I wanted to be calm. “What’s the matter with you?” I sounded like my mother.

Emily cried harder. “Stop it, Robby! Stop it!”

Robby was flushed and shook with rage. “He’s not my father! He’s not! I hate him!” He made baby sounds and murmured to himself lost in a secret world of anguish.

“Robby please…”

“No, no, no! Take me home!” he erupted again.

“Robby, please! Your dad is sick. He can’t handle this.” Regret crept up and tapped me on the shoulder. I’d only made matters worse. It wouldn’t work. It never could.

Emily stopped crying and smiled. “Who’s that?” she pointed but I couldn’t look because I was trying to get through to Robby.

Emily giggles, “Yeah, I see you. I hear you too. Who are you?” She cooed like a dove. “Uh huh…Sister Mary-Margaret says angels are God’s messengers.” She laughed and pointed to Robby, “I don’t know…he’s really stubborn.”

Robby stopped ranting and eyed Emily, then back to me. “Who is she talking to?”

They exhausted me already and we’d only been there ten minutes. “Nobody. She’s not talking to anybody.”

Emily continued her conversation like we could all see her imaginary friend. She laughed from her belly. “An angel named Al? That’s silly.”

“Emily, who you talking to, sweetie?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded calm and steady.

“Nobody. Just pretending,” she said then started singing a song I didn’t know.

“Geek.” Robby said it like a dirty word.

We heard the door open and then voices. I rushed toward the front room. The kids didn’t move.

Paul and Barbara greeted me as I entered the room. “Hello, there.” Paul sat propped on the sofa as Barbara wheeled a respirator next to him. Though he made a lemon face at Barbara’s coddling, he grinned too.

“How’s that?” Barbara asked.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you had to stay in the hospital.”

Barbara grinned like a naughty kid. “We kind of finessed them. See, I’m a nurse. I told them I’d stick around and keep a watch on him.”

“And are you?” I asked. “Are you going to keep an eye on him?”

“I’m five minutes away, just pick up the phone and I’m here in an instant,” she assured me.

“They’re here?” Paul asked with dread.

Emily ran into the room and stopped short of jumping into Paul’s lap. “Are you my daddy?”

Paul melted at the sight of his beautiful little girl. “Yes, I’m your daddy.”

She smiled from head to toe. She went at him like a little fullback and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Daddy! Hi, Daddy.”

“Let go of him!” Robby the monster ordered her. We all jumped at his angry voice. “You want to die like him? Don’t touch him!”

Emily pulled away from Paul but didn’t know what to do.

“That’s not true, Emily,” Paul said gently. “Touching me won’t hurt you. I can’t make you sick like I am.”

“Don’t you touch my sister,” Robby screamed at Paul.

“Robby, this is your father. Mind your tongue!” I scolded him with absolutely no effect.

“He’s not my father. Just some stupid faggot who’s gonna die.” He stormed down the hall and slammed the door to his room.

“Nothing like a warm welcome,” Paul joked, but none of us laughed.

****

(To be continued….) copyright 2006

I sat on the bed and traced the paisley pattern of the ugly bedspread as I talked to my mom. She talked. I listened. I needed a smoke, but I quit. I paced, instead.It was my turn to talk. “Yeah Ma, I saw him. He looks okay. Have you talked to the kids? Jane going to let them…you know…come out? Tell her I’ll take really good care of them. What? She said that? Well you tell her he’s dying and that his kids should at least see him before… What do you mean? Don’t say that! Face it Ma, it’s happening, we can’t stop it! Ma, Ma, don’t cry. Please. Okay… yeah, I’ll call you. Bye.”I hung up the phone and lay down on the bed. I was so cold I shivered although the room was warm. Rain tapped against the window. “The angels are dropping water balloons,” my dad used to say. I smiled and wished I were five, again.I went to the window and watched the rain.“God, I don’t know if I believe in you anymore, but if you’re there, could you please help me?”Somebody knocked. I wondered who it was. I felt scared. Alone in a strange city.

Annie:

The call came in the night. Like all bad things. When it is dark and still. I found myself driving northeast, toward Boston. On the long drive, I had time to think and remember. My brother was dying. My thoughts were only of him and us and the family.I barely acknowledged the freeway signs as they pointed me toward his sick bed. His final days. Our last meeting was years ago, in the winter. We saw The Rocky Horror Show; a movie where the audience called out the lines with the actors on the screen and threw bread and toilet paper up into the air. Fascinating and revolting. Later, we went to a pub where there was no ladies’ room and I was the only woman. It smelled of beer and anticipation. Oddly, I felt at ease there, as if in a sea of big brothers who would protect me from harm.Then nothing. I called but he didn’t call back. I wrote but the letters came back, unopened; stamped in red, “return to sender, addressee unknown.”A month before ‘the call’ I had nightmares in which I was forced to watch Paul’s murder. Unable to do anything to stop it. I had no voice, only eyes. It was God’s way of telling me. I despised my intuition sometimes.