A Field Guide to Burying Your Parents (26 page)

“Come back?” Leo finishes. I nod. “She just did, I guess.”

“They’ll come through that door,” Abigail announces, pointing at where Leo and I are standing. I give her a ridiculously out-of-proportion
smile. She immediately looks confused and sits back down next to Evie. Manny lifts Emilygrae up and bounces her around. Her
giggles fill the room. I hold firm near Leo and we watch the door.
She knew I’d come back.

We wait. The minutes pass.

“There… there they are!” Leo shouts, his arm shooting out. Pointing. He presses the button that opens the automatic doors to
the pathway just outside.

Dad made it.

We all stand and watch as the same beefy ambulance driver pushes Dad in on the gurney. Dad is propped up and has a bright
yellow blanket over him. His hospital gown is listing slightly off his left shoulder as he comes up the pathway. Huston and
John follow behind the gurney, looking like Secret Service men, talking quietly, making sure the final step is successful.
Dad turns the last corner and enters the sunroom.

“Daaaaadddddd!” we all say, waving and smiling. Dad’s eyes set on one face after another. He raises his now unrestrained arm
high in the air, smiling crookedly. The ambulance driver stops right in the middle of all of us. We converge on Dad, offering
pats, smiles, waves, caresses… whatever we feel we can do to let him know that he’s safe. We did it. We got him out.

His idea worked.

“Hey,” John says, sliding his arm around my waist. Abigail notices instantly. So does Evie. Abigail beams at us. Evie’s face
turns bright red.

“Hey,” I say, leaning into him.

“Okay… let’s get your dad set up in his new digs,” the ambulance driver says, wheeling Dad out of the sunroom and into the
hall. Dad beams at all of us as he’s wheeled down the hall. We watch him go.

The entire room breathes a sigh of relief.

“We did it,” Huston sighs, his body tense, yet somehow relaxed. Leo bounds up to Huston and hugs him. Huston immediately starts
to comfort him.

“You did so great,” I say, smiling at Huston.

“You… man, that was… They surpassed even
my
expectations,” Huston admits, with his arm around Leo’s shoulder. Leo wipes at his eyes and looks over at me, making “I’m
okay” faces.

“This place is perfect, peaceful, kind of,” I say to Abigail.

“Thanks… Leo actually found it,” Abigail says, motioning to Leo.

“Internet,” Leo admits.

“Finally, something you won’t get thrown in lockup for.” Huston laughs, pulling Leo close.

I lean against the wall just outside Dad’s room, still holding on to John. Abigail’s already noticed. Dad’s safe, that’s all
that matters.

I scan the hallway. A bunch of old ladies in wheelchairs have begun moving down the hallway—like an even creepier version
of Alfred Hitchcock’s
The Birds
. One minute there was only the one old lady dressed in all red, now there’s like ten of them. They’re all shuffling around
in their wheelchairs, using their feet to zip and zoom in and out of traffic. They finally settle in just below the statue
of the Virgin Mary. A destination spot, I take it.

I’m taking in the birds on the wire when a nun all decked out in a brown-and-white habit turns the corner in one of those
electric mobility scooters.
Red
. She’s speeding along at quite a clip as she approaches our little hallway grouping.

“You must be the Hawkes clan,” the nun announces, screeching to a halt mere centimeters from Abigail.

“We’re Ray Hawkes’ kids,” Abigail announces, extending her hand to the nun, whose round face is tightly framed in the brown
habit.

“Sister Marjorie Pauline, I’m the one who signs your dad into St. Teresa—the welcoming committee,” she responds. For a nun,
Sister Marjorie Pauline seems a tad rough around the edges. I like her immediately. Sister Marjorie Pauline scoots past Abigail
and heads down the hallway, toward Huston.

“Huston Hawkes. Thank you so much for making room for us,” Huston starts, holding out his hand.

“Heard you had a rough time of it up there, Huston,” Sister Marjorie Pauline jolts to a stop right in front of him. Her speech
is kind of blue-collar, like she could be taking your breakfast order at the local greasy spoon. Calling you “hon.”

“We did,” Huston answers. The rest of the family is craning to hear the conversation.

“Well, you’re here now. Your dad’s here now. Safe,” Sister Marjorie Pauline says, staring him down. I can see his jaw clenching,
his eyes focusing anywhere but at the little nun. Sister Marjorie Pauline breaks eye contact, zooms her little red scooter
forward and takes his hand. Huston looks horrified.

“Thank you,” Huston answers, never looking at her.

“This has been weighing on you.” Sister Marjorie Pauline keeps hold of Huston’s hand.

“It’s been weighing on all of us.”

Sister Marjorie Pauline brings her other hand across and takes both of his hands. His eyes dart around as he becomes more
and more panicked.

I don’t want her to tell him the worst is over, because it isn’t. I don’t want her to tell him he can relax now, because he
can’t.

Sister Marjorie Pauline holds Huston’s hands for several more seconds. I realize she’s saying a prayer for him: the atheist.
He bows his head and closes his eyes.

“Amen,” Sister Marjorie Pauline finally says, letting Huston’s hands go. He opens his eyes and looks around awkwardly, clearing
his throat and looking at his watch.

“He’s all ready,” a Webelos nun tells Abigail as she finally exits Dad’s room.

Sister Marjorie Pauline reverses her little red scooter, almost mowing down one, if not both, of the twins. They loooooove
it.

We all stream into Dad’s room.

He looks exhausted, but rested, somehow. He acknowledges each one of us as we fall in around the hospital bed. Countless tubes
still crawl around his body, the numbers on the monitors continue to dance. I see the kids cling to their parents, not knowing
what to make of all this. They were banished to the waiting room while we were in Ojai, so this is the first time they’ve
been able to visit him. I imagine it’s a pretty scary sight for them.

Sister Marjorie Pauline scoots in behind John and Manny, parking just behind the privacy curtain. She carefully stands, grabs
her cane in the little rear basket of her scooter and walks the few steps over to Dad’s bedside. We all watch as she approaches
him.

“So, you finally made it, Ray,” Sister Marjorie Pauline barks over the metal safety bar, coming right up close to Dad’s face.

His entire face lights up. In a way I’ve never seen. I look at Leo and mouth, “Great place.” He nods back with a look of huge
relief.

“You’ve got quite a family,” Sister Marjorie Pauline says, leaning over Dad. Dad gives Sister a big, crooked grin. This one
statement sends a shock wave through the room. The awkward throat-clearing is almost instantaneous.

“Okay, you’ve had a big day, I bet you’re exhausted,” Sister continues. Dad shakes his head yes. He says yes to everything.
He says yes to everything.

I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want him to be here alone. I’m not factoring in how sick he is. Dad is… well, right now
Dad
needs
his rest. Sister Marjorie Pauline understands this. She dips in close to Dad one more time, whispers something that no one
but he can hear. Dad is quiet, his eyes closed. They both nod at the same time. We all look on. Sister Marjorie Pauline hobbles
back to her little red scooter and makes it clear that we’re supposed to follow.

One by one, we say goodbye to Dad, and stream out into the hallway after Sister Marjorie Pauline. When it’s my turn, John
quickly exits the room, indicating he’ll be just outside. I approach Dad, he raises his arm, and I take his hand in mine.

“I’m so sorry about before,” I say, smiling into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here now.” Dad’s face lights up and he tightens
his grip on my hand. I nod and pass his hand over to Leo, who crumbles into tears the minute they make eye contact.

“—handling all this?” Sister Marjorie Pauline is saying to John, as I catch only the tail end. I settle in next to him.

“I’m an old friend of the family who just happens to be a lawyer,” John says, his smile easy. Sister Marjorie Pauline looks
from John to me and back again.

“Nice coincidence,” Sister Marjorie Pauline chuckles, inching the scooter closer to John. He backs up and apologizes.

“We’re thinking they’re probably going to make quite a scene,” Huston says.

“We’ve seen it all,” Sister Marjorie Pauline says, making googly faces at Emilygrae and Mateo. They squeal with delight. Evie
narrows her eyes… intrigued.

“We have quite a fight ahead of us,” Huston presses. We all wait. Listen.

“But you’re up to it,” Sister Marjorie Pauline answers.

“Yes,” Huston answers.

“Ray knew you were up for it,” Sister Marjorie Pauline says. Huston nods, his entire face tight.

She continues, “He knew all of you could.” She scans the entire group and peels off down the hallway. No one makes eye contact
with anyone else.

“How did that lady know all those things?” Emilygrae asks Abigail as we all shuffle toward the exit. Abigail looks over at
Manny. He scoops up Mateo and makes it clear that this question is for Abigail to field… alone.

“She knows people,” Abigail vaguely answers. Emilygrae immediately looks over to Manny with an expression of “That’s it?”

“You’re making it sound like she’s connected, Abby,” Huston reproaches gently.

“Not knows people, like knows people who know people. I meant that she knows people, like
understands
people,” Abigail explains, her voice quick, yet exhausted.

“Because you’re making it sound like Sister is somehow connected to the Corleone family,” Leo says as the automatic door slides
open. Abigail rolls her eyes.

“Aha! In the Corleone family, I’d be the Michael!” I proclaim.

“What?” John asks.

“Before I was the Edmund, but now I’d be the Michael. And
you’d
be the Fredo,” I declare, eyeing Abigail. She shakes her head, smiling.

“Before?” John asks, as you would.

“When we were in Narnia,” I say easily.

“Narnia,” John repeats. A nervous energy buzzes around our group, as around a table of little kids at a birthday party just
after cake.

“Why am I always a girl? First Lucy and now Connie,” Leo muses.

“You do have a tendency to…” Abigail trails off, pulling Leo close.

“Be a crybaby,” Mateo finishes.

“I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” Leo cracks. The fresh air feels good. Huston laughs. It’s good to see him smile.

“That’s the worst Marlon Brando impersonation I’ve ever heard,” I say, laughing.

The cool air wafts over us as we walk through the St. Teresa’s parking lot in search of our various cars. I feel the most
tenuous of threads linking us, albeit a bit worse for the wear.

“Is Gus’ Barbeque still on Fair Oaks in South Pas?” Leo asks, his hand woven through his motorcycle helmet.

“It’s still there, but it’s been completely remodeled, I hear the food is great, though,” Abigail says, holding hands with
Manny as they herd the kids between them.

“Do you want to try it anyway?” Leo suggests. We were high on all the emotion, but there’s an awkwardness now that that we’re
not with Dad or surrounded by all of the hospital drama.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m sure it’s either closed or packed,” Huston says, beeping his car unlocked in the distance.

“New Year’s Eve is just the night before New Year’s Day,” Evie offers. Mateo’s mouth falls open. Un-believ-able.

“We could do a little potluck thing at our house?” Abigail suggests, her voice sounding hopeful.

“Can we stay up past midnight?” Mateo asks. Oh my God, this is going to be the world’s longest potluck.

“I have to get out of these clothes,” I say, pleading with Abigail. She looks at John, raises an eyebrow and then looks back
at me. I immediately blush.

“Let’s say seven, then?” Abigail proposes. Huston walks in front of us all, not looking back.

“Huston?” I call after him. He looks back at me. At all of us.

“I’m exhausted, guys. I’m afraid to think what’s waiting for me back at the office,” Huston says, stopping at the back of
his car.

“Nothing’s waiting for you back at the office,” John says. Huston tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Et tu, Brute?” Huston sighs. Evie and I immediately lock eyes. She can’t help but point at Huston and smile knowingly back.
Ha! If she’s a Shakespearean scholar one day, she’ll have me to thank.

“It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s,” Leo offers. I think to myself that nothing is waiting for me, either. After
I e-mailed all my end-of-the-year reports to Tim’s assistant, I officially began my seventeen days of vacation. Tim was very
understanding.

“Huston?” Abigail presses.

Manny leads the twins and Evie over to their minivan. He swoops up Emilygrae and bets Mateo he can touch the car first. Of
course, Mateo takes that bet. Evie glances back over her shoulder at the group of us.

“I think it’d be nice for us not to be in a hospital for once,” I add.

“We need to… We did a good thing here and we should… we should be together tonight,” Leo rambles. Huston shifts his weight.

“So it’s settled?” Abigail presses.

“We’re all going to worry about Dad tonight… we might as well do it together,” Leo says, across the parking lot. Huston’s shoulders
lower. He lets out a long sigh. No one lets him off the hook. We all wait.

“Fine. Seven,” Huston agrees.

“We’ll do burgers and hot dogs. Grace, you and John bring some kind of dessert, Leo you bring buns, and Huston—why don’t you
bring the beverages,” Abigail says.

John and I watch as Huston pulls out of the St. Teresa’s parking lot, followed by the packed minivan and Leo’s motorcycle
that sounds like a jet engine. The dusk zooms up around me. It smells like rain.

“So we just got assigned a dessert,” John says, flipping his keys around.