Thou Shalt Not (9 page)

I returned to my classroom early during lunch the next day with the intention of setting out a pop quiz on all the desks to welcome my next group of students to class. They hated when I did that, but they also knew that when I did, it would mean no homework for them over the weekend, so I knew they’d be okay with it.

April had joined the other teachers for lunch that day, and everyone had spent the lunch period talking about their favorite places to visit. She seemed much more relaxed, and when I asked her how she slept, she smiled and said that she had one of the best night’s sleep in a long time. And, she mentioned how it was nice of me to ask. She seemed comfortable with the teachers, so I left her with them to get back to setting up my quiz.

The bell hadn’t rung yet, so when the classroom door opened, I hoped it would be April. But, again it was Principal West.

His eyes quickly informed me that something was wrong before his mouth did. I stood up straight, knowing that whatever was going to come out of his mouth wasn’t going to be good. At first I thought maybe someone had seen me have a mojito at the tapas place and had reported it back to him, but his face promised something much worse.

“Luke,” he said, with pain in his voice. He was choking up, and my thoughts went a million different directions. “I was down at the hospital visiting Robin. She had a massive heart attack
, Luke
.”

An invisible sledgehammer pounded me in the chest.

“What are you talking about? I just talked to Walt last night. Everything was fine.”

“I stopped to talk to someone at the nurses’ station. Then people started yelling for help and running back into her room.”

He was shaking his head while he spoke, as if he was in disbelief too. His eyes had tears in them.

“Well, is she okay?” I asked, much louder than I had intended. It sounded like I had yelled at him.

“Luke, she died.” His voice trailed off and he collapsed into one of the desks.

I fell back into the chair at my desk, my head swimming.

“What, what do you mean? What do you mean she’s dead?”

I asked it out loud, but I kept asking it in my head too. West just sat there at the desk, tears in his eyes, staring off into space.

How could she be dead? I just saw her. She was fine. This has to be a misunderstanding. She’s too young for a heart attack.

“This is bullshit,” I said without thinking. Normally, that kind of language could get me fired, or severely reprimanded, but he didn’t even seem to hear it, or it didn’t register.

I stood up and pushed the stack of papers that were on my desk onto the floor. I didn’t want to believe it. I refused to believe it. This wasn’t happening. Not to Robin. Not to Walt. And sure as hell not to me, not again.

There were tears in my eyes as I ran down the hallway. I was going to go to the hospital. No thought went to my upcoming classes, to the quiz I had been preparing to administer. I didn’t care about any of it. I was going to see her. She was going to be fine. I went down the elevator and sprinted to my car. As I was about to open the driver’s side door, I felt my phone vibrate. I looked at the screen, and the name “Walt” flashed across it. In tears he told me the same thing West had said. He sounded a million miles away. I hung up and got into my car. I pounded on my steering wheel, hitting it as hard as I could with both hands. Tears poured down my face. The inside of my car was burning up, but I paid no attention to it. I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs, but somehow I refrained. I threw my phone down onto the floor in front of the passenger’s seat and cried some more. I sat there until one of the groundskeepers spotted me and alerted the office. The superintendent, Carl Wilson, came out, and told me that I should probably go home for the rest of the day, and that my classes would be covered.

I drove back to my house with tears streaming down my face. I was still pounding the steering wheel. I couldn’t remember having felt that angry in a long time.

Holly wasn’t at the house when I got there. I wasn’t sure where she was, but I hoped she would be awhile. As soon as I walked into the house I collapsed on the floor and began bawling. They were the same tears I had cried when I found out Carrie had cancer, the same tears I cried when we found out she had two weeks left, the same tears I cried for months after she died. They were angry tears. And they hurt, deeply.

My mind took me back to the waiting room, praying with Walt. I knew I had no business praying for her. Everything I pray for falls to pieces. If there was a God, which I wasn’t so sure about anymore, He had taken great lengths to avoid listening to me.

I had one Bible in the house. It was in the bookshelf by my television. I pulled it from the shelf for the first time in years and launched it across the room. It knocked something over in the kitchen, but I didn’t know what. I guess I figured if God didn’t know I was mad at Him, He would now.

“Why? Why her?” I yell. “Of all the people...of all the people...OF ALL THE PEOPLE! How could You do this? How could You let this
happen
?”

I buried my head in my hands, and cried harder than I think I have ever cried before. And the only words coming out of my mouth were “Why?”

Six Years Earlier

Carrie’s funeral was beautiful. It was held at Lakefront Community Church, the church through which the school was affiliated. The pastor of Lakefront, Paul Mitchell (no, not the salon guy—this Paul was bald) spoke, as well as a few other people, including Linda. I had been asked if I was going to want to speak, but that absolutely was not going to happen.

There was a good-sized turnout. Everywhere Carrie went, she had an impact on someone. The whole floor of nurses who had taken care of her at the hospital had shown up, along with most of the students in my classes. Friends from college and high school paid their respects, family of hers from around the country. Someone had mentioned to me that there was even a newspaper writer there, who had heard Carrie’s story and wanted to write a piece about her. I never saw the writer, or saw any story later.

People spoke, and I fought back tears the whole time. It’s strange how you can be prepared for something so completely, have so much warning ahead of time, and then be completely shocked and unprepared when it actually did happen. I had experienced death before, a few times, but this one hurt the most. I knew it would hurt for a long time.

I heard a lot of “Everything happens for a reason,” and “God has a plan,” and “All things work together for good.” The more I heard it, and the more death and pain and heartache I experienced in my life, the less and less I found myself believing that to be true. Nothing seemed to happen for a reason, unless the reason was to have our hearts trampled and done away with. And I refused to believe that
that
was the meaning and purpose of life.

But, everyone who spoke remembered Carrie at her best and brightest, and hearing them speak reminded me of what had drawn me to her in the first place back in high school. Pictures appeared on the screens throughout the service, showing my happy, vibrant Carrie. There was even a rather embarrassing photo of us that had been taken at the Junior Prom that made an appearance. It garnered chuckles from people throughout the sanctuary.

When the service was over, people came by to express their condolences, but truthfully I don’t think I remember hearing any of them. And I couldn’t recall the faces of anyone who stopped by.

I had told her parents that I wanted the graveside to just be us, family. I didn’t want all these people traipsing out there with us to see her buried. I didn’t even want to see it, didn’t think I could stand to watch, but I knew I sure as hell didn’t want anyone else there with us. They obliged and informed everyone before the service of my wishes. I know it must have been a pain, but I was grateful to them for doing that. I felt bad having to tell Walt and Robin they weren’t welcome, but they were as gracious as ever and told me they understood.

I sat on the grass, Indian style, as they lowered the casket into the ground. I had no tears left to cry, and it didn’t seem like the rest of the graveside attendees did either. There would be more later I was sure, but for then they were depleted.

A hand found my shoulder, and Linda sat down next to me on the grass, despite being in a beautiful, if not slightly somber, dress. I looked up and Bill was standing behind me. He wanted nothing to do with the ground, and while I couldn’t blame him, I had no desire to get up either.

“Hey, Luke,” she said, giving me an all-encompassing side hug. She was on my right and Bill was standing over my left shoulder. His right hand was on my shoulder, just above the arm of his wife.

“Bill and I just wanted to thank you,” she said, beginning to choke up. On a normal day, I would have expected to also start blubbering like a baby, but nope, I was dry.

“When Carrie was little, we prayed she would meet someone who treated her right, who loved her and took care of her. Someone we could trust to protect her. We are so thankful she found you.”

“Even though you guys probably got married a little too young,” Bill piped in from behind me. I could hear the smile in his voice, but it was a sad smile. I didn’t have to turn my head or look up to know it.

“We will continue to be part of your life as long as you want to have us in it. Carrie was our only child, and when she brought you into our lives, we gained a son.”

Bill squatted down next to me on the left, large black sunglass lenses blocking eyes that were sure to be red with grief. I knew he treasured his daughter, and while he was mostly the silent type, I was certain he was still a wreck inside.

“Look,” he said, his hands on his knees to help keep balance. “We know you guys had to sell just about everything to be able to afford to pay all the medical bills. You guys have been using Carrie’s old car, and I want you to have it. I know it’s not much, and if we could give you something more, we would. But, we just want to help in any way we can.”

Bill wasn’t much of a talker, and these might have been the most words I have heard him use in one sitting.

Carrie and I had bought a new car (one of our poorer decisions) right after we got married, and we sold it to be able to keep up with all the doctor bills. Carrie’s car, the Roller Skate, had been hers in high school and her parents had kept it in their garage until Carrie asked them if we could use it again. It was quite a downgrade, but people paying huge bills don’t have the luxury of being prideful. They don’t have the luxury of any sort of luxury, really.

“Thank you guys,” I said. “I hadn’t thought about what I would do about a car. I really appreciate it.”

Linda gave me another big side squeeze.

“Just remember, you will never be a stranger with us. You will always be welcome in our home. We both love you and are so grateful for you and all you did for Carrie.”

With that she stood up and asked Bill for her purse. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. My name was written across the front, in Carrie’s nearly flawless handwriting.

“She said not to give you this until today.”

With that, they walked off without goodbyes. They left me to the letter, and I was thankful for that.

I never thought handwriting could stir up emotion, but the tears that I assumed were gone and dried up returned. It was like an old friend you hadn’t seen in awhile—you thought they were gone, didn’t expect to see them, and then BAM.

The envelope crinkled in my hand as I gripped it, then loosened my grip, then tightened it again. I couldn’t tell you for sure, but I probably stared at my written name for ten minutes at least. There wasn’t anyone left by the graveside besides me.

Finally I opened it up, and if the tears hadn’t already come roaring back into my life, they would have returned as soon as I started reading. Knowing she had touched the letter, had hand-written it just for me...I was overwhelmed and overtaken with emotion. I laughed. I cried. Mostly I missed her.

Luke,

I was tempted to start this letter with “If you are reading this, then that means I am dead,” but that’s so cliché! (And look at me, I technically started with it anyway) I know this is stuff I have told you before, but you were always the writer, so I don’t think I ever put it down on paper for you. Better late than never, yes? I love you so much, Luke. I fell for you the day I saw you walking through the hallway on my first day at Lakefront, and I have been in love with you every day since then. You’ve been my best friend, my better half. I may have lived a pretty short life, but God let me have you to make the best life I could have asked for. If I had to do it again, knowing how this all would end, I would do it in a heartbeat. I could fill a thousand pages with memories, times we shared together that flow through my mind and heart all the time. But, we could have been eating spaghetti at the dinner table or pillow fighting in bed…it didn’t matter because it was with you. I cherish every moment we’ve spent together, and I am so grateful for who you are to me. You’ve been the love of my life, Luke, but now that’s coming to an end. It’s time for you to find the true love of yours. I know it won’t be easy, and I know you are probably shaking your head telling yourself there’s no one else you could love. You might even wish you could tell me to shut up. God still has great things for you, and I know He will bring you someone who can heal your hurt and give you the love you need. They will come along when you need them most. I know that, because I have prayed for it for months. The right one for you will probably have been in front of you the whole time. I know you, you won’t be paying attention. But, don’t let her slip through the cracks. She will never love you like I do, but nobody is perfect. ;-) Thank you, Luke. Thank you for every kind word and loving kiss and for making every day worth living and worth fighting for. I will love you until eternity stops. Or until the Cubs win the World Series. Whichever comes first.