The Far End of Happy (26 page)

Ronnie sat with the note for some time, trying to feel something for this man who wrote it. But despite the daylong wait for word, any word, she felt detached. From these particular words. This blood on her shoe.

She read it again, running her hand over his words, some underlined to make sure his meaning was heard. Ronnie knew how important it was to be heard, since he’d denied her this simple favor for so long.

Anger welled within her as she thought of all the ways he’d been leaving her these past few years. At what he’d put them through today. At the fact that he was drunk. At the fact that their beautiful children—Andrew looking so like him, Will acting so like him—should ever have to deal with his self-destruction.

Ronnie looked at the remains of what so briefly had been New Hope Farms. Shards of glass clinging to the window frames. The wood where the panic bar latched, splintered from forced entry. The dark starburst blasted through the door leading into the store.

If
you
were
really
capable
of
all
this
introspection, Jeff, why did you hoard it? And how can I possibly explain your “love” to the boys?

“Goddamn it, Jeff, argue back!”

The store absorbed her words just as its leafy greens had absorbed the Mace. New Hope Farms lay in quiet ruin.

She rolled facedown on the grass, damp with its own dewy tears, and sobbed. She’d so hoped to share with Jeff the wonder available to them every single morning just because they opened their eyes.

For so long, Jeff had been the source of her wonder.

I
loved
you. I tried to help you. If you had shared the problems sooner, we could have faced them together.

Even if Jeff had been running scared these last years from some diagnosis she wasn’t aware of—heart disease or cancer—what she would have given to sit by his side, as she had his father’s, and help him cross death’s divide.

No one should feel this alone.

An owl hooted from the woods across the road. The wind that had gusted all day stroked Ronnie’s cheek in apology.

Amber and Brad scooted down the grassy hill. They stopped beside her, at the periphery of the Mace.

“We heard you call out,” Amber said.

Brad stooped to pick up the papers. With Amber on the other side, they helped Ronnie up, Jeff’s note still clutched in her hand.

The three of them walked silently up the driveway. “Where can we take you?” Brad said.

“I’m fine. This is my mother’s Blazer. She’ll need it.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem.”

“I’m going to see my kids. I have to pull my thoughts together, but thanks.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow to take care of the animals then,” Amber said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Ronnie could not look again at their faces, so eager to help in any way they could. She muttered thanks as she opened the car door. Max lunged toward her. Poor boy, locked one place or another by himself all day. The keys were in the ignition where her mother had left them, back when she had expected she was just stopping in to get the boys. Ronnie started the car, put on her seat belt, backed up—and heard a bang. She ducked.

When nothing else happened, Ronnie lifted her head. She’d backed right into Brad’s car, parked behind hers in their driveway. She hadn’t even bothered to look before swinging around. Ronnie slid from the Blazer to check the damage and Max tumbled out on her heels. While there was only a scratch on her mother’s bumper, she’d taken out one of Brad’s headlights.

Ronnie looked at Brad. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for that.”
Pay
for
it
with
what?
“I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad it happened here and that we’re all okay,” Brad said. “Seriously, you shouldn’t drive.”

Ronnie started to shake.

Amber and Brad settled it. This time, when Ronnie climbed into the car, she was the passenger.

Beth’s awkward greeting at the door, Max clutched to Ronnie’s chest. Her request for a place to share private agony in someone else’s home.

Janet and Beverly were sitting on a hard bench in the foyer, jackets on, purses on their lap. Sweat beaded on Janet’s upper lip.

“Don’t worry,” Beth said in answer to Ronnie’s unspoken question. “The boys don’t even know they’re here.”

“Mr. Eshbach?”

“They let me run him home an hour ago,” Beth said. “I fed the boys some mac and cheese. I’ll get them.”

Beverly pulled Ronnie close. “Don’t tell the boys,” Beverly said. “Not about the…you know. Janet and I have already discussed this. They’re too young and—”

“My god, Mom. Will was standing right next to me this morning when Jeff said he was going to kill himself. Do you think they’re going to believe he wasted away of natural causes while the police stood by?”

Janet stood. “We’re only thinking about the boys.”

“You two have both had a chance to raise your children as you saw fit. I am simply asking—no, wait. That’s the wrong word. I am demanding that you let me raise mine as
I
see fit. This is a tough situation, and I need to go with my gut. That’s what a mother does.”

“What is your gut telling you?” Beverly said.

At the familiar sound of pounding feet, Ronnie plastered on a smile. But those still-boyish faces, with their hopeful blue eyes trained on hers, had her gut quivering from the unanswered question.

“Maxie!” Andrew took the dog from Ronnie and Max licked him all over his face. She gave each boy a quick hug, breathing in the last moments of their innocence even as the day’s violence pushed its unrelenting briars between them.

“This way,” Beth said.

“Feel free to wait here,” Ronnie said to her mother and Janet.

Ronnie had the length of a short hallway to decide how best to give them the news. She didn’t want to hurt the boys, but hadn’t Jeff already done that? She didn’t know what to do. She heard footsteps behind her. The grandmothers were tagging along.

Beth showed them in to what was probably a guest room. A double bed had been pushed against one wall, and an oval braided rug lay beside it. Beth gave her a pitying smile and left, closing the door behind her.

“Let’s sit on this pretty rose rug, boys. Grandmas, I suppose you’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

“Can I have Max now, Andrew? You already had a turn.”

Extreme politeness—a portent. Ronnie’s anxiety grew.

She sat at the edge of the rug with one child on each side. Max curled up in Will’s lap. Much to her surprise, her mother claimed the space beside Andrew, sitting cross-legged. Janet sat on the bed but then slid to the floor, her legs thrust somewhat defiantly into the circle they’d created. Janet waited stone-faced for Ronnie to begin. Their relationships were in shards, like the windows in the store.

Ronnie sensed Jeff in the middle of the circle, wedging them apart—and she wouldn’t have it. If he wanted to instigate one last standoff, Ronnie was determined to emerge the victor.

“So, guys. You knew what this was about today, right? That your father had threatened to kill himself?”

They nodded. Beverly closed her eyes. Ronnie held still.

“And the police were trying to help him,” Andrew said.

“Yes. But they couldn’t. Unfortunately, your father didn’t want their help. He shot himself, and he’s dead.”

There, the facts were out. Ronnie felt like she could breathe again.

Andrew said, “Did it hurt?”

Janet moaned. Ronnie thought of the shot ripping through Jeff’s brain. She took a deep breath. “I don’t think so, honey.”

Will said, “Didn’t you tell him about the chicks?”

Ronnie paused, her dedication to the truth already tested. “I did, Will. I told him as soon as I could.”

Her mind emptied of words. How could she help her children make sense of the fact that their father had killed himself when that morning, they had seen him walking around? Death was hard enough to fathom, suicide nearly impossible. How could she explain this to her sons?

She looked at Andrew, leaning forward, eyes engaged and expectant. The same posture Janet always used to adopt when awaiting a story.

Her gut told her that’s what she needed to give them. But what story? She turned to Will, his fingers working through Max’s fur, wearing that stoic expression.

The image of Jeff’s body being carried from the store flashed through her mind.

A story came to her.

“Remember Cupcake?”

“She was our cat,” Andrew said. “We want to know about Dad.”

Janet leaned forward. A story.

“Hang in there with me for a minute. Remember when she got sick?” She hoped they would remember; it had been only a year since Cupcake died. How long would they remember Jeff?

“Why couldn’t the vet figure out what was wrong with her?” Andrew said.

“No matter how much we learn, some things about life and death remain a mystery,” Ronnie said. “Even if Cupcake could talk, I’m not sure if she would have been able to tell us why she was ready to die.”

“We moved her out to Dad’s woodworking shop,” Will said, rubbing his cheek against Max’s fur, “and brought her the old bed we made with our lambskins.”

Ronnie’s anxiety eased even as her heartache deepened.
He
remembered. They would remember.

“Dad had bought Cupcake for me when she was a little kitten and he didn’t want to watch her die. He thought we should put her out of her misery.”

“But to us she just seemed weak and tired,” Andrew said.

“And she stretched her neck against our hands so we would pet her,” Will said.

Ronnie loved the way the boys always wanted in on the storytelling.

“But even so, Cupcake’s spirit was slowly leaving her body. When she finally stopped breathing, what we buried was no longer the cat we had loved, but the bones and fur that carried her spirit while she was here on earth.”

She recalled how Will—only seven, yet already exhibiting equal measures of boy and man—had draped the dead cat over his arms and insisted on carrying her up to the burial site.

“That’s how it was with your father. He was losing the will to live, and like Cupcake, he didn’t know how to ask for the help he needed. Years of heavy drinking poisoned his body and mind in ways that we couldn’t see from the outside.” Ronnie looked over at her mother-in-law, who kept her silence. “And no matter how much we loved him, we couldn’t save him.”

Andrew said, “Why do you say you loved him if you were going to get a divorce?”

Ronnie let out a long breath. “That’s confusing even to me,” she said. “I never stopped wanting good things for your father. But he was making bad decisions for our family, and the time came when I had to take measures to protect us. But I never wanted to hurt him. It was a tough choice.”

Will’s face, neutral until now, twisted in a fight against tears.

Ronnie put her hand on Will’s knee. “The only way we’ll make it through this together is to share our thoughts and feelings, whatever they are.”
Even
if
you
blame
me, please, speak to me.

Will pulled himself together and did not cry. “This morning, when Dad was drunk, and I ran out to get the car keys from him…I thought I was saving his life. I wanted to save him.”

Ronnie took Will’s hand, which, like hers, was marked with scratches and bruises Jeff had inflicted. She wondered how long they would take to heal. Tears wet her face, but she would not let them steal her voice. “You tried, Will, and did what you could. No one can ever take that away from you.” She looked at Janet. “Grandma Jan was very brave too. We all tried to help him with his problems.”

“What were his problems?”

“That is such a good question, Andrew. I’ve been thinking about it all day. We may find clues, but all we’ll ever know is that in the end, he couldn’t think straight. So he made one last bad decision: today, when so much of his spirit had died that he could no longer face life, he killed himself.”

Janet moaned and started to sob. “I will never survive this. Never.”

Ronnie closed her eyes.

When Ronnie opened them again, she saw Will taking his grandmother’s hand. “We’ll take care of you, Grandma Jan. Then maybe we won’t miss Dad so much.”

“I lost someone to suicide too.”

Ronnie’s gaze bore into her mother, a plea not to increase her sons’ burden.

“I know how the sadness and love can get tangled and linger.”

Beverly twisted the ring on her hand.

“It was the first man I loved. I’ve been thinking about him a lot today. And about your daddy too, because I loved him, and because for so very many years, he made my daughter the happiest person.”

“Mom,” Ronnie said with fresh compassion.

Someday, when Ronnie felt they were ready, she wanted her mother to tell the boys the full story. It was their history; they had as much right to know about depression and suicide as they did about Beverly’s arthritis and Janet’s sweet tooth. If Ronnie had known about Jeff’s medical history, maybe she could have gotten him help sooner. Maybe he would have had hope.

“When I lost the man I loved, I thought I’d never get over it. But then a little miracle happened.”

Ronnie leaned forward.

“Someone else came into my life,” her mother said. “Someone who made me forget the part about being all alone. Who taught me that I could feel extreme joy equal to my extreme pain and hold them both in my heart at the same time.”

Janet.
Ronnie looked at her mother-in-law with new gratitude.

She looked back at her mother and this time really saw her. She was transformed. The mascara was gone, her eyebrows mere suggestions. Her face looked scrubbed and fresh. But she also seemed to glow, as if from an inner source.

“And I knew that no matter what,” Beverly continued, looking right at Ronnie, “I would always stay by her side. Even on a day like today. Because you are beautiful and precious to me, and”—she fought to control her voice and had to push the next words through her teeth—“because I want so badly for you to find joy.”

Tears ran freely down Ronnie’s face.

“And I want that for you boys too. So.” Beverly wiggled free the small diamond ring. “Sometimes, when you love someone, you give them a ring as a sign of your promise. But I’ve always done things a bit backward, so as a sign of my promise to be here for you all, I’m going to give one up.”

Beverly looked at the ring perched between her fingertips. “Boys, I will remember your father always, but I will not expect things of him he can’t give. As sad as this day is, I’m willing to let him go, and while it’s a little long in coming, I’m willing to let my first love go too.” She kissed the ring and set it on the carpet in the center of the circle.

Beverly turned to Janet. “Is there something you might give up, Jan, as a sign of your promise?”

Janet put her hand to her abdomen. She looked forlorn and resigned, as if she’d given up on life. But what was the point in that when your heart kept beating, and yearning, and breaking?

Janet reached for her purse and pulled out her wallet, tufts of coupons visible from its bulging sides.
Oh
my
god, is she going to give us money?
Janet set the wallet aside, stuffed her hand deeper into her purse, and withdrew a leather-covered flask. Jeff had given it to her as a gag gift one birthday, since she never drank, saying she should try it, it might improve her outlook. Jeff had laughed, so they all had.

“I suspect there’s going to be no way to take the edge off what I’m feeling right now anyway.” She tossed it into the circle. Its steel top clunked with a hollow sound as it hit the ring.

Ronnie said, “Was this just for…today?”

Beverly seemed poised to answer if Janet wouldn’t. Janet said, “Since Jerry’s death.”

“There’s no time limit on mourning,” Beverly said. “It could take five weeks, five months, five years—”

“Or in your case, thirty-five,” Janet said. “But this wasn’t mourning, really. It was regret. Forty-seven years of it.”

Forty-seven?
“You don’t regret having Jeff, do you?” Ronnie said.

“No, I regret the quality of my marriage. But what could I ever say? Jerry was a local hero. If I walked into a room without him, someone would ask me where he was. Everyone benefitted from the love he lavished on the community. But he had little left to bring home at night.”

“You’re talking crazy. This day has been too hard on you,” Beverly said. “You were the perfect family. You were the three J’s.”

“See, even my best friend won’t believe me.” A tear rolled down Janet’s cheek. “After a while, you wonder if what you feel even matters. You want to just float away.”

“You should have told me.” Beverly handed Janet a tissue with a red lipstick blot on it.

“Why didn’t you leave him?” Ronnie said.

“We taught at the same school, and people looked up to him. A divorce would have ruined him,” Janet said. “And I couldn’t do that to Jerry. I loved him.”

Ronnie reached around Will and patted Janet’s shoulder. She had never heard so many words from Janet at one time. She knew, from her journaling, what a relief it was to push them out.

“So I know what it’s like to feel alone in a marriage,” Janet said. “And I’ve wanted more for you, Ronnie. But I didn’t know how to want that for you without hurting Jeff. And without losing you as a part of my family.”

Beverly reached for Janet’s hand.

“Grandma Jan, will you tell us a story about Dad?” Andrew said.

“A nice one,” Will added.

Janet sniffed and thought a moment. “Back when he was eighteen, your father came home to tell us about his first year at college,” she began. It was all Ronnie could do not to roll her eyes. “Your mom was only six and had beautiful ringlet curls. She had a petticoat beneath her dress—”

“She won’t let us get a pet goat,” Will said.

“A petticoat made your skirt full,” Ronnie said, “but they haven’t been in fashion since the middle of the last century. Your grandma is telling a tall tale.”

“I let you tell your story. This is mine,” Janet said. “Little Ronnie’s skirt was stiff with petticoats, and she had on white anklet socks and patent leather shoes—”

“With taps on them,” Beverly added with a smile.

“And she crawled up on your daddy’s lap and turned his face toward hers as if no one else was in the room, because she adored him. And she loved him so much she had you two boys and you were happy until…until your mother…”

Ronnie tensed. Maybe mercy was too much to ask of a woman who had just lost her son. She deserved whatever Janet was about to say, but she wished the boys could believe in her for just a little longer.

Janet said, “And you were happy for as long as you could possibly be.”

Ronnie broke down and sobbed. Will rubbed her wrist, the salt from his fingers stinging the scratches Jeff had left that morning. His tenderness and the pain both felt right.

Janet’s unexpected generosity felt like a hug from the least likely person in the room to offer one. She thought about Jeff’s hugs, where eyes were closed, heads were averted, tension was relieved, and secrets comfortably blanketed. Why had she craved them so? The tension in this circle—which required them to face one another, where comfort was desired yet not given, where escape was sought but not granted—just might hold them together.

Ronnie’s stomach growled, loud enough that everyone heard. The boys erupted into giggles, then stopped short, looking to her.

“Grieving doesn’t mean you have to feel sad every moment of the day,” Ronnie said. “You may not know how to feel right now. There’s no right or wrong. I guess each of us has to find our own way through it, however long that takes.” She looked at her mother and mother-in-law. “But we have to try, because grieving is what allows us to feel everything again.”

Ronnie put her hand on her stomach. “Including hunger. Mom, we’d better pick up some groceries on the way to your apartment.”

“If you all can get me up off this floor, I think you’d better come to my house,” Janet said. “I probably shouldn’t be alone. Plus, I have more beds. And ice cream.”

Andrew smiled. “I hope you have a lot,” he said, already reaching for the door.

Ronnie stooped to pick up the ring and the flask.

“Mom.” Will looked at Ronnie. “When will we see Dad again?”

The question took Ronnie’s breath away. Hadn’t Will understood what death meant? Hadn’t he understood the story she’d shared?

“I think I have some old albums at home with pictures of your dad at about your age,” Janet said, putting her arm across his shoulders. “How about we’ll look for them tomorrow?”

“That’d be cool,” he said.

“Give it time, Sunshine,” Beverly whispered and slipped her arm around her daughter. “We’ve got a bit of winter ahead. But summer will come around again. And who knows, maybe next year, you could talk me into coming along to that beach house you like so much.”

Ronnie opened her mother’s purse and dropped in the flask and the ring. Then, with her family around her, she headed out into the night.