Christi Wood

Empty Space

As I laid my head on the soft feather pillow, I wondered why she was taking so long to return from lunch. I wanted to kick myself for being late for our date, but that butterfly was so tempting that I chased it to see if there were anymore.

I heard her loving voice as she spoke to her company walking with her. I guessed she brought a friend back from lunch. Good thing I cleaned the house this morning, I thought. I have never understood how two people our age can make such a mess.

She walked through the front door as I noticed the peeling paint that I hadn’t gotten around to fixing. One day I will get it done once all of this craziness blows over. I had been telling myself that for fifteen years but I still said it every day.

The sight of only one person walking through the door didn’t surprise me. Another episode, I thought. Cindy was getting better, but there were still days she had these visions. My mind wondered. It was my fault because I didn’t meet her. When the routine got messed up, so did her mind.

“Hello darling,” Cindy said. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? We went and had her senior pictures made and, as always, she was the most beautiful girl there.”

Frowning, I looked at my wife. Regaining my composure I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time for lunch, I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, John, I just wish your mind wouldn’t wander so. This is a very important time in our daughter’s life.” Smiling, Cindy lightly kissed my forehead. “Oh how I wish things were different,” she whispered as she walked away.

**********

            I remembered the day we walked down to the lake.

“Time for a stroll. It’s a beautiful day and I need to get some fresh air,” said Cindy.

“Okay, do you mind if I walk along? I could use some fresh air,” I said.

Cindy’s cheeks roused up as she smiled and said, “Sure!” She loved taking walks with me.

Tromping through the fallen leaves of red, orange, and yellow, a feeling of freedom surged through the Cindy. As the slight breeze brushed against her skin, life came back into her bones. Cindy ran around with her arms stretched to the sky yelling, “I’m free! I’m free!”

A look of satisfaction crossed my face as I watched the joy I had been missing in the last year.

I noticed changes in Cindy’s personality after the death of our three year old daughter. Rachel was diagnosed with a rare disorder when she was two. She was hospitalized while tests were run to find out what was wrong. The disorder was not common in children, and there was no known cure. We knew our little girl would die, but there was always hope in our hearts that something could be done.

Cindy never left Rachel’s side while she was in the hospital. She read her stories and told her what a beautiful future was ahead of her. The little girl smiled at her mommy and told her she loved her and would always be with her. “I never leave Mommy,” Rachel said the morning she passed away.

Cindy was never the same after that. She went to counseling, but it never really helped.

One day after work, I walked in the house and she was talking to herself. “No sweetie, I don’t think you should do that,” she said. I continued to listen and realized that I was hearing a one sided conversation between Cindy and someone else.

“The problem is getting worse,” the therapist said. “There is an issue with memory, and we don’t know if there will be a full recovery.”

I was at my lowest point and did not know what to do.  I walked home that evening passing a beautiful, familiar lake which Cindy and I visited while dating. As I stood looking at the sun going down on the horizon, I prayed to whoever would listen. “Please give me the courage to endure whatever trials are to come. Help me to find a way to bring my wife back to me, and please be with her as she goes through these hard times.”

I felt a calm sensation come over me and thought for a second that someone might have heard my prayer. All I could do was believe that somehow things would be okay.

I returned home the next day with red roses. Cindy smelled the roses and told me that Rachel wanted to smell them too. “Pick her up to them so she can smell them.”

I fell onto the bed not knowing how to react. Pulling her toward me I cautiously said, “Honey, Rachel is not here. She died, remember?”

A look of confusion crossed Cindy’s face. “She’s not dead. She’s standing right here beside me.” She stomped her feet like a young child not getting her way. “Stop acting so silly and lift her up to smell the flowers.”

I hurried out and called Cindy’s therapist. Something was wrong and I didn’t know what to do.

Cindy could not accept Rachel’s death and had resurrected her in her mind. To Cindy, Rachel was a real person.

I asked the therapist if there was any way to cure Cindy, and she explained that it was a waiting process. “Some patients can be cured of this disease with therapy, and others live with it their whole life. This is a day-by-day thing, and no one knows how it will turn out. You must decide if you can be part of Cindy’s life. You’ll not be looked down on if you walk away. There are places for people with disorders where their needs will be taken care of.”

I went home that night and laid in bed wondering. I said to Cindy’s sister, Stephanie, that night on the phone, “I don’t know if I am strong enough to be there for her. I don’t know if I can take the reminder of my daughter every day.” I told her everything that was going on and needed her advice on what to do.

“Marriage is for better or worse. It can’t get any worse than this. You made your vows and you must honor them. Of course, it is your decision, but that’s my opinion. She would stick by you if the situation was reversed,” Stephanie said.

She was right. Cindy had always gone to Stephanie for advice and she always did what her older sister said. For Cindy I would stay and I would do everything in my power to bring her back to me.

The next day, I met with Cindy’s therapist. We spoke about options for helping Cindy deal with her emotions and how we should react when these episodes presented themselves.

**********

As the days went by, I didn’t know if I could stand the moods that Cindy had. One second things would be fine and then, out of nowhere, Rachel was there.

“John, will you please help your daughter with her coloring?” I heard from the kitchen. This was getting to be too much. It was one thing for her to talk and interact with the imagined child; but now she was telling me to.

“I’m busy,” I said. The therapist said we needed to keep things as normal as possible, so I didn’t get too upset. After a few minutes, I walked into the kitchen and I saw Cindy sitting at the table coloring a Cinderella picture. “Try to stay in the lines, sweetheart. You are getting so much better at your coloring. My little girl is going to be four years old next week. Can you believe it darling? Our little baby is growing up.” I turned and walked out of the kitchen into the garage. I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer from the top shelf. At times like this, I wanted to drink it all away, but I loved my wife and knew I needed to be there for her, so after two bottles I returned to the kitchen.

Cindy was pinning the drawing on the fridge. I stood there and looked at the half colored Cinderella. The blue dress was beautifully filled in with Cindy’s strokes. The flowers Cindy left for Rachel were untouched. Things have to get better, I thought to myself. I don’t know if I can do this forever.

***********

I laid in bed looking up at the ceiling. I saw little spots that needed to be touched up. How does that paint on the ceiling come off? Nothing ever touches it. Cindy went for her morning stroll. I usually went with her, but the recent events had caused my blood pressure to rise and she told me to stay in. My reflection in the mirror showed baggy eyes and wrinkles of someone much older than my forty-one years.

I decided to have breakfast ready when Cindy got back. I made reservations at a camping retreat for the upcoming weekend with the church, so I got the tickets out and set them at her place at the table. I wanted to surprise her. This day marked the anniversary of Rachel’s death, so I wanted to keep our minds away from thinking of her.

“Oh it’s such a beautiful day today, I hate it that you don’t feel well.” At forty years old, Cindy still looked just as beautiful as she did my junior year of college when I first saw her walk into the registrar’s office. The light glistened off the sweat beams on her forehead as I welcomed her back with a light peck to the cheek.

“I’m making breakfast; I wanted to have it ready when you got home.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take a quick shower, and then we can eat. What is this on the table?” Cindy asked as she walked to her spot. “Tickets to the camping retreat? John, you know we can’t go with them this weekend. We have Rachel’s graduation tomorrow night. How could you forget your daughter’s high school graduation? I have put up with a lot from you these last fifteen years, but this is where I draw the line. You are not ruining this for her. It’s time to snap out of it!” She busted into tears and ran up the stairs. I heard the bathroom door slam shut.

Cindy never showed much anger before. Even with her disorder, she was calm and never seemed frustrated or confused. I was the one who always seemed affected by the situation.

I knew breakfast was pointless, so I cleaned up the kitchen. I walked over to the trash can and threw the camping reservations away. There’s no point in trying to discuss this, I thought, she will never agree.

Not knowing what to do, I walked down to the basement. I always felt at peace around all of the things that we had accumulated before Rachel’s death. I saw the old chest that held our wedding photos and china that was given to us as a gift from Cindy’s great grandmother. It had been her and her late husband’s, and she wanted to keep it in the family.

Cindy argued with me for days about using that China for Christmas dinner. I was worried it would get broken and she said there was no other option; it was created to be used. She pranced around the kitchen the first year of our marriage preparing for Christmas dinner with her family. After setting the precious China on the table we danced around with our aprons on.

I picked up a picture of both of us standing after the ceremony was over, looking at each other. Our wedding day was perfect and the pictures reflected our happiness. How I wish we could have those days back when there was no sadness or worries.

My old dart board was on the wall with the darts in their position still showing the score from the day Cindy had come down and told me the news. I remembered her face was glowing as she told me I was going to be a dad. We wanted a baby, but not that soon. I had just finished my bachelor’s and was trying to start my career. She was just going into her second year at the university. She pulled me to her and told me that with love like ours, we could make it through anything. I stared at the board wondering if she was right.

I removed the tape from a box labeled “Pictures” and pulled back the flap to stare into the face of Rachel as a baby. She was the most beautiful creature wrapped up in her little blanket. Her little birthmark under her eye made me think of shooting stars. She was my star given to me by God, and I felt that nothing could ever hurt her. I was wrong. She was taken away from me. Tears flowed from my eyes. Until this moment, I had never allowed myself to grieve for my daughter because I had been so worried about Cindy. But as I sat down on the floor the tears continued until there are no more.

I heard Cindy upstairs walking around and turned to go up the stairs. I needed to talk to her. It was time to put an end to this life. I feel that I have let this go on for too long. It is time to put a stop to the madness. I will prove to Cindy that Rachel is not real, I told myself.

I searched from box to box looking for the right one. I know it’s here somewhere, I thought. Finally I saw the box. Written in red crayon it read, “Rachel’s Drawings.”

            As I rifled through the dusty box, I came across the old pictures that Cindy said they colored together. These would be the proof that Cindy was the only person coloring. A look of shock enveloped my face as I saw the drawings were filled in where Rachel’s coloring would have been. That’s weird, I thought. The interesting thing was half of the coloring was carefully in the lines and the other half seemed to have been colored by a child. The colors began blending together and I felt an extensive pain in my head.

            When I came to, Cindy was standing over my bed. I was confused and didn’t know where I was. Cindy told me I was in the hospital. There was a young woman sleeping in the chair by my bed. She looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her.

            “Since when do the nurses sleep on duty?” I asked and gesture towards the young lady.

            “You can see her?” Cindy asked me, shocked.

            “Well of course I can see her, I’m not blind. I have a terrible headache, but my eyes are fine. Why am I in this hospital bed?”

            “You had an attack this morning. The doctors ran some tests and it looks like your tumor has grown. They are going to have to try to remove it. Are you sure that you can see the girl sleeping in the chair?”

            “Yes, I see her, why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Cindy could tell I was getting agitated, but she seemed so excited that she couldn’t help herself. She rushed to the girl in the chair and shook her awake.

            The girl sat up and turned to look toward me. “Daddy!” she called as she ran and threw her arms around my neck. “I knew you would come back to me.”

**********

            As I’m wheeled into the stadium for her graduation, I can’t help but smile. I get the best seat in the house, I think. Her name is called and I quietly watch as she walks down the aisle and accepts her diploma. She glances at me, and I wink back at her. I have missed so much, but I got to see her walk.

As she walks back to her seat I remember that day.

            We were standing in the hospital room. The line was flat and the beeping wouldn’t stop. Doctors rushed in and placed the paddles to her frail little chest. “Clear,” I heard. Nothing. “Charge it. Clear.” Still nothing. I couldn’t stand the beeping anymore. I went to the chapel and prayed. No one knew that the tumor had been growing in my brain for the past six months. As the words flowed out of my mouth, the tumor was spreading.

            I didn’t hear the doctor say, “We got her back.” When Cindy ran to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, I didn’t hear what she said. My daughter had died, I saw her die. I would never hold her again.

            For fifteen years, I thought Cindy was crazy when the whole time I had been projecting my problem onto her. I will never be able to get those years back, I think. The fog fades from my eyes as my little girl runs toward me and jumps into my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and says, “I never leave my Daddy.”

[Draft of another story]

A Stroll through the Park

As the morning breeze invites them out the door, the squeaky wheels begin their journey onto the freshly cleaned sidewalk. There is no sign of the storm from last night, which from the sounds of the branches hitting the windows all night seemed like a hurricane. The street cleaners do a wonderful job every morning of making sure the walkways are clear for early strollers.

The glistening morning dew drips from the colorful fall leaves as her size nine Nike’s crunch through the unlucky ones that have already fallen to the ground. Crunch, scrunch, crunch, scrunch. The morning stroller’s pace quickens as rays slowly present themselves through the clouds. The heat radiates on Jennifer’s shoulders as perspiration begins forming under her arms. “It’s going to be another hot fall this year,” she says to the bubbly child eagerly riding in the stroller ahead of her.

The morning routine passes through her mind, a routine that has been going on since she began her therapy two years ago. Jennifer still remembers the day she walked into Dr. Thermon’s office on Sealy Street. The doctor had been recommended by a friend, and Jennifer knew that it was time to talk to someone about the repressed feelings she had been having toward her recently deceased husband.

The smell of fresh lilies rafted through the small building as Jennifer signed her name onto the sheet. At the nurse’s command she walked down the hall and sat down in a comfortable armchair in a quiet oversized room that could have used more furniture or decoration. A couch was present, but she did not feel ready for that comfortable level of therapy.

It took about ten sessions with the psychologist for Jennifer to reveal her true feelings about her late husband. The relationship had been abusive, but Jennifer always believed in her vows. The truth was that she felt relieved that her husband had passed because a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders. As she revealed this to Dr. Thurman she felt sad and happy at the same time. She was sad that she sounded like such a mean person, but happy to finally get it off her chest.

This began the first day of her long, strenuous healing process.

Dr. Therman reassured to her confused patient that this was a normal reaction and recommend that she begin some activity every day to heal her heart.

Getting up early was not something that Jennifer liked to do, but she felt that she needed a change to heal herself. Thus began her morning strolls.

Today marks the two year anniversary of her first stroll through the park. This day is different from all the others. Jennifer decides that she well try a different approach, so she begins her stroll later than normal. Jennifer processes each image as she goes from spot to spot wondering just how different things will be at this hour of the day.

            As the two ladies turn into the park entrance they notice a couple in their late twenties. The man is walking a vicious looking Doberman with slobber sloshing around on his chin and teeth flared while his partner rollerblades beside him. As they pass Jennifer and Jolene, Jennifer notices a rose tattoo of many different colors tattooed on the girl’s left arm. Jennifer ponders what it could represent as she continues her stroll. Jennifer glances down and remembers getting her own rose tattoo, and laughs because she realizes how she had no real reason for getting it besides that everyone else was.

“I hope to teach you better, my little angel, about being a leader and not a follower. Do things for yourself, no one else.” The little girl smiles and giggles at her mom with her bright blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

            On the bench where he had proposed sat an elderly man and woman. Sitting there with his arm draped around the woman’s shoulder the grey haired man crossed his legs towards her. Jennifer’s thoughts turn to love as she imagines them probably just as in love this morning as they were the day they got married. In her mind she thinks how wonderful it would be to have a lifelong love like that.

            Crunching along Jennifer almost has to dive to the ground as a frisbee nearly decapitates her. “Sorry,” yells a man as he runs and grabs the blue disc of death and throws it back to his buddy. She laughs a little at the thought of death by frisbee and imagines the headlines in the morning paper. “That’s okay,” she smiles her newly whitened teeth and he smiles back staring a second too long. Crimson appears on her cheeks as he turns and runs back to the Frisbee field.

Regaining her composure, Jennifer grabs the stroller and continues walking. There is a family of four sitting on a blanket breaking bread into small pieces to give to the ducks. A duck waddles up to a child of about three, snatches the bread from her hands, and scurries off. The child begins to cry and her mother swaddles her easing the terrified baby’s sobs. Her big brother begins chasing the duck, but stops when his dad yells that he is getting too close to the edge of the lake. The boy returns, a little saddened, but cheers up when his dad pulls a baseball and glove out of a duffle bag by his side. The game of catch begins as the first pitch flies through the air.

            The playground at the nearby school begins to fill up, and Jennifer can hear the joy of the children as they begin their morning P.E. class. She stops and admires the teachers who show a miraculous amount of patience for the young children who are running around totally out of control. At the sound of a whistle, they all begin to quiet down and turn to listen to the coach’s instructions. After a few minutes a mad dash begins as the kids start their warm-up run around the soccer field. Jennifer is briefly taken back to her school days, and remembers running with the wind through her long blonde hair because she would never allow her mom to pull it into a pony tail. How life was so much easier then, when all she had to worry about was brushing the tangles out when she returned to the classroom.

A smile crosses her face as she feels a calming begin to come over her body. This is it she thinks. Just a little longer and I will have that peace that I have been longing for. Continuing along she thinks back to the session where her therapist told her that she needed to forget about all the bad memories and focus on the future. “Forgetting is a way to heal, and you need to let it go so that you can move on,” the doctor said. The biggest part is forgetting him. She is almost there. Of course she will never completely forget, but to be able to go days without having painful memories is the goal. And Jennifer is almost to that point.

As she approches the foulest part of her stroll she can already smell the rank stench as it rafts through the opening made by a little boy pushing through the doorway. “Did you wash your hands young man?” a woman in her thirties asks. “Yes mom,” the youngster replies. Why did they have to put the public restrooms along the walking path? That is something Jennifer asks herself every day.

The ringing of the bell pronounces that the ice cream truck has pulled into the parking lot. It sure seems to be a little early to be selling that sugar infested legal drug. Poor parents must either upset their child by not buying the tempting treat or ruin the little one’s lunch.

The temptation became too much for Jennifer and she decides to go against her diet and buy an ice cream. I don’t treat myself very much, and Jolene can have her first taste of the sugary treat, she tells herself. As Jennifer bites into her newly purchased nutty cone, she congratulates herself for losing those extra ten pounds over the last two weeks and thinks about how her dietician told her that she could have one splurge day a week. Ice cream in place of lunch is definitely the best splurge she can think of. A small drop of vanilla trickles down her chin and she tries to lick it with her tongue. The peach body part not being long enough, she wipes the sticky mess with the outside of her hand and thinks about doing that as a child and getting in trouble. Her mom was always a little strict when it came to getting messy. Jennifer hands the cone to Jolene, loving the look of excited on her child’s face for receiving the delightful treat. “You can have the rest my precious,” Jennifer whispers into her daughter’s ear. “If you get messy we can take an extra long bubble bath when we getting home.” A scream of joy confirmed the child’s appreciation as ice cream began to collect on her face and shirt.

The leaves were falling, swirling all around her forming beautiful heaps of red, yellow, and orange. She looked at the nearest tree and saw a small blue balloon swaying back and forth, stuck in a branch. There must have been a sad, balloonless little kid going home last night after the midweek evening festivities.

She had an appointment next week with her doctor. She was on a monthly basis now because she had been doing so well and was coping with her thoughts and memories much better. Jennifer planned to tell the doctor that she felt healed and wanted to stop the sessions. She had so much going on in her life that she did not like taking the hour out of the day, even if it was only once a month, to sit on the couch and tell the doc all the good things that were going on. If everything they talked about was positive, then there was no point in going. Plus the therapy was putting a pretty big dent into her pocketbook. She needed the money for more important things. Christmas was coming and there are always added expenses once the cold hits and brings the snow. Her winter coat from last year was wearing out and she knew she needed other winter clothes.

            With their tummies full, the ducks were beginning to make their way back to the lake. They had a few hours of napping and swimming to take care of before the lunch crowd showed up. One, two, three, four, five, six little ducklings Jennifer counted quickly following their mother into the lake. Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop! Uh-oh Jennifer thought. What happened to the sixth baby? Plop! Oh there it goes. There is always one tittle tattling along she thought. She guessed she laughed a little louder than she planned because a man walking passed her looked her direction with a puzzled face. She just smiled and he walked on.

A slow drizzle began to fall and Jennifer knew that she must be ending her stroll. She had today off, but she still needed to go into the office and try to finish up a few projects before next week. She was looking at a huge promotion within the next few months, and the extra money could really help.

As she finished her stroll, she commended herself on making it this far through her therapy. She knew that she would soon be able to forget almost all about her past and move into her anticipated future. She smiled as the most important thing in her life began to turn around.

            Jennifer stared into the deep blue eyes, his deep blue eyes, of her fourteen month old daughter  as the girl fumbled along towards her while muttering out her first word. “Dada.”

Ideas for more scenes to add to this story

Chill went thru

Smell of poop

Kite, running under the kite, take from the kid and run with it

balloons

carnival

police