From that point on, everything moved in hazy slow motion as if she’d been cast into a black hole. The aftermath of Bobby’s death was surreal. People said things, but she didn’t hear because she was consumed with pain.
She and the kids underwent counseling.
Still, it was so hard.
The first Christmas, birthdays, their anniversary were agony. Then she would see people she hadn’t seen in years, who didn’t know Bobby was dead, and they’d say, “How’s Bobby?” She’d tell them and watch their faces and it got so she’d just avoid people. Then there were the people who did know and they’d avoid her at the mall or someplace, as if her grief were contagious.
The life Lisa had was over.
But she had to keep going for the kids. Each morning for the last two years, she confronted mountains of destruction, hopelessness and loneliness, taking them on one step at a time; as months then years passed she’d come to believe that she’d put the worst of it behind her.
Until today.
A vague prickling crept along the back of her neck as she looked at her shirt, discovering flecks of blood—
Lisa leaned back against the bathroom door and slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands. In the stillness she begged God for her life back, pleading until a soft knock sounded at the door.
It was Vicky Chan.
“Lisa, someone’s here for you.”
“One moment.”
Lisa collected herself, reached into her bag, changed her shirt, washed her face, brushed her hair, then opened the door to the sun. Ethan and Taylor were standing before her. She dropped to her knees and took them into her arms.
“Oh, thank God! My angels!”
After hugging and kissing them, she drew back to stare at her children. At Taylor, her turned-up nose and freckles. At Ethan, calm and too mature for ten, and looking more like Bobby every day.
“I’m so happy to see you!”
“I’m happy to see you, Mommy.” Taylor locked her arms around Lisa’s neck.
“Hi, Mom. You’re not hurt or anything?” Ethan asked, taking inventory.
“No, I’m not hurt.”
Again, Lisa hugged them to her while shooting a glance over their shoulders and mouthing a big
Rita Camino was a self-described “divorced-no-kids-fun-loving-Jets-fan.” She was a natural blonde in her thirties from Forest Lawn, Queens. For the last ten years, she’d been a senior cashier at the supermarket where Lisa worked. Rita was a rock-solid friend to Lisa, practically an aunt to the kids.
“We told them that you were fine but that there was a complicated, important family matter going on,” Rita said.
“Ethan and I thought you were in big trouble,” Taylor said.
“No, sweetheart, I’m not in trouble.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
Lisa first introduced the children to the other women, then, after a nod of encouragement from Dr. Sullivan, she explained.
“I stopped at a gas station and I saw some people do some bad things to other people.”
“What kind of bad things?” Ethan asked.
“I saw people get hurt. I saw bad guys hurt other people.”
“Like a fight?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, sort of like a very bad fight.”
“How bad were they hurt?”
Lisa glanced at Dr. Sullivan, who nodded.
“Honey, some people were killed.”
Lisa watched Taylor’s eyes widen and stroked her hair.
“It’s sad, I know, sweetie,” Lisa said.
“But—” Ethan looked around the room, processing the information “—you didn’t get hurt?”
“No, I didn’t get hurt, but because I was there I need to remember everything for the police. It’s important that I do it so they can find and arrest the bad guys. So our police friends fixed it so we can stay here with Vicky, Eve and Helen until we’re done. That’s why everybody has overnight bags. It’s like a sleepover.”
“How long will it be?” Taylor asked.
“A few days, then we’ll go home. Did you guys get a chance to eat?”
The children shook their heads.
“Some chips and soda on the drive in,” Rita said.
“Okay, how about we order pizza from room service?”
“And ice cream!” Taylor said.
“And ice cream,” Lisa agreed.
While they ate, Lisa caught up with them on their school, their friends, upcoming parties, wants—“it’s always something”—and the cabin.
“So it’s really sold now, Mom?” Ethan asked while fidgeting with his small folding pocketknife. Bobby had given it to him a month before his death and Ethan cherished it.
“I’m afraid so, sweetheart.”
“But we still get to go up one last time like you promised, right?” Ethan lowered his voice for privacy, knowing the FBI people were in the adjoining room. “We have to do the special thing for Dad.”
“Absolutely. We’ll go up once we get this stuff all sorted out. A promise is a promise.”
Ethan brightened, so did Taylor. Their smiles were balm to Lisa and they spent the rest of the evening watching an animated movie together. Snuggling with them was the best medicine. Lisa drew strength from them and resolved to get back on track, seize her life back. After the movie ended, she got them into bed, smothered them with kisses before closing the door behind her and joining the women in the other room where they were watching an all-news network.
“How are they doing?” Rita asked.
“Good. They’re strong.”
“And you?” Sullivan asked.
“Better.”
“You should know,” Rita said, “that a cute FBI agent drove your car to your house and locked it in your driveway. I have your keys.”
“Thanks.”
“I told Nick at the store that you had a family emergency and you’ll need some time. You should call him in the morning.”
