Color of Forgiveness (64 page)

“I found it,” she admits in a defeated
voice.

“Yes!” Susie shouts in triumph, doing a
cha-ching with her right arm. “I knew you kept it.”

Myra squints as she tries to read the
writing on the box. “Oh my god… this thing expired like four years
ago. I can't use this.”

“Oh, for fart's sake, Myra, you can always
go buy another one later. Who gives a hill of beans about the
expiration date? We're talking weird, freaky fate shit here. You
have
to use that one. Who knew way back then that I'd send
you
five
pregnancy tests and you'd end up needing all of
them? Well, technically you didn't need the first one because you
freaking
cheated
and went and took a damn test with Natalie
instead of your beloved virtual best bud. But I'm so glad that all
those years ago I forced you to use one of
my
tests when you
were pregnant with Megan so that you could save it for her memory
box. This is destiny, girlie, pure bizarro destiny.”

Myra picks up her phone and walks into the
bathroom. She sits down on the toilet seat lid and stares at the
box in her hands. “I will admit it's weird, but I
can't
be
pregnant. I just can't be. I'm still nursing Matthew, and I haven't
even had a period yet.”

“Well, you probably ovulated and Dylan's
super sexy sneaky sperm jumped on that egg like white on rice, and
that's why you didn't have a period. But remember, you've been
telling me how Matthew's been eating more table foods and not
nursing as much.”

“I know… but Dylan and I have been trying to
be careful—”

“Oh my god, I do not want to hear your
lame-o excuses.
Oh, Dylan darling, please don't drill me five
times tonight with your heavy duty power tool, baby. Let's just
beat the sheets three times. Let's be 'care-ful’…
” Susie mocks
in a high-pitched, annoying voice.

“Shut up. We have four kids. We don't have
sex multiple times every night.”

Susie giggles. “Honey, you get way more
action than I do and my kids are practically grown. Here I go and
lose all this weight and get all skinnylicious, ready to have Jeff
boink my brains out and now he can't get it up. That man's wiener
is softer than a melted marshmallow. Of course he's all embarrassed
about it and absolutely refuses to admit he has a problem and will
not go see a doctor. He's so stupidly pig-headed. I want to beat
him with something, like pound him over the head with my George
Foreman Grill. Or smack him repeatedly with my old belt because we
both know that humongous beast could inflict some pain. Doesn't he
understand that I have needs and those needs include a hard weenie?
I mean everyone in the free world over forty uses Viagra… except
for my husband. I see those commercials that talk about the
four-hour hard-ons and I want that. I want to abuse Jeff’s hard
wiener for exactly three hours and fifty-nine minutes before I have
to rush the man to the hospital.”

“You're insane,” Myra says, shaking her
head.

Susie does this weird thing where she puts
the phone closer and closer to her face until all Myra can see is a
set of very large nostrils on her screen. “Guess what I did?” Susie
asks.

Myra giggles at the nostrils. “What?”

“I ordered him some Horny Goat Weed.”

Myra busts out laughing and laughs until she
has tears in her eyes.

“Quit laughing. It's supposed to help him
get it up. It's like some kind of aphrodisiac. I'm going to
secretly sprinkle it on his fiber cereal in the morning. I can't
wait to see what happens. He'll probably be at work and
boing
he'll start getting random hard-ons and won't know
what the hell hit him. I might have to show up at his office to
check his vitals… and make sure I'm completely underwearless.”
Susie’s whole face comes back on the screen, and she wiggles her
eyebrows suggestively.

Myra wipes her eyes. “You're killing me and
grossing me out all at the same time.”

Susie shrugs, still grinning. “Sorry. I love
to overshare with you. Now hurry up and pee on the stick. Ooooh, I
get to come up with some new 'Mel' names. And you're getting a new
name too, little missy.

From now on you are Mrs. Fertile D. Myrtle,
you baby making machine.”

“I
can't
be pregnant,” Myra moans
again.

“Yes, you are, Myrtle,” Susie says,
giggling.

Myra's eyes dart to the bedroom when she
hears a loud wail come blaring from the baby monitor that sits on
her bedside table. “Matthew's awake. Let me call you back.”

“No! You need to take that stinking test
first. I need to—”

“My baby comes first. Bye!” Myra says before
sticking her tongue out at Susie's irate face and promptly hanging
up on her.

* * *

The following afternoon, Myra's stomach
churns and her mouth fills with saliva. She knows what's coming
next. “Here's the paper,” she says hurriedly, setting a stack of
blank paper in front of the kids. “Crayons and markers are right
there. I have to run to the bathroom, but you can start.”

She barely makes it to the toilet before she
empties the contents of her stomach. With a groan, she splashes
some water on her face and rinses her mouth out. Just as she steps
out of the bathroom, she stops and listens to the conversation
going on around the table.

“Mel lives in heaven,” Megan says, “with the
angels.”

“So he's got wings like Batman?” Max
asks.

“No, dummy,” Megan barks back. “Batman's
wings are black. Mel's wings are white.”

“He fwies?” Madison asks.

“Yeah,” Megan says. “Isn't that cool?”

“I wanna fly,” Max says. “Does he have
feathers?”

“Probably,” Megan says. “I think all wings
have feathers.”

“Cool,” Max says. “But how do you know
they're white? They could be black. He's a boy.”

“Because he wivs in da cwouds,” Madison
says. “And cwouds aw white.”

Myra quickly rubs the moisture from her eyes
and walks around the corner towards the table. “How's it going?”
she asks the kids, sitting down next to Max.

They all excitedly show her their pictures.
Megan has drawn a picture of an angel with big wings and a rainbow
above his head. Her heart clenches when she sees the bottom of the
picture that has a mom, dad, three kids, a baby and a dog… her
family.

Madison has drawn a stick figure and tried
to add wings to it, but it just looks like two large rectangles on
a stick figure. She has colored everything in pinks and
purples.

Max has drawn a stick figure as well with
huge wings on the side colored in black.

“Okay,” Myra says. “These are beautiful. Now
don't forget to write your letter to Mel on the other side.” She
looks at Max. “Do you want me to help you with yours?” She knows
Max’s aversion to writing.

He nods and hands his paper to her. “What do
you want it to say?” she asks.

“Use this,” he says, shoving a black crayon
at her. “I want it in black, like Batman,” he whispers.

“Okay,” she whispers back, smiling. “What do
you want to say to him?”

He frowns and purses his lips for a second.
“I wish I could come see your house. I bet it's really cool if it's
up in the clouds.”

Megan interrupts. “But his house isn't—”

“Megan,” Myra says in a stern voice. “This
is Max's letter. He can say what he wants to.”

“Fine,” she says with a huff as she goes
back to her letter.

“Okay, Max. You can continue,” Myra says to
him. She reads his letter back to him so that he knows what he's
said so far.

He frowns again, thinking. “What kind of
toys do you have? Do you like Batman? I do. I also like Ironman. He
flies superfast but doesn't have wings. Do your wings itch? Because
feathers are kinda tickly…”

Myra has to cover her mouth to stifle a
giggle.

Max takes a second to rub his freckled nose.
“Oh, and I want to ask him if he can come to my house and play with
me. Tell him there's only girls here and my brother's a baby.”

Myra watches his little face as he frowns,
trying to think of more things to say. “Is that all you want to
say?” she asks softly. He responds by nodding. “This is a really
great letter, Max.”

He smiles broadly at her. She wraps her arm
around him, pulling him onto her lap.

“You know that Mel can't come here to play
with you, right?”

His innocent blue eyes stare at up her.
“Why?”

“Well, once someone goes to heaven, they
can't come back here to earth. Because heaven is such a wonderful,
beautiful special place, they don't ever want to leave.”

“But doesn't he miss us?”

Myra has to bite her lip to keep the tears
in. She clears her throat. “Yes. I'm sure he does, sweetheart.”

“I'm done,” Megan announces.

“Me too,” pipes in Madison.

“You don't need help with your letter,
Madison?” Myra asks.

“No, mommy… I did it aw by mysef.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Myra says to her.

“Mommy?” Megan says.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I decided to make a letter for Matthew
since he can’t do one. Here it is,” she says, handing Myra a new
sheet. It has a picture of a baby with a large angel hovering over
him.

“It’s beautiful, Megan, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mommy.”

“All right… You all can go play, but
remember your dad is coming home early today so we can go see Mel,
okay?”

They all charge off. Myra flips over
Matthew’s picture that Megan drew and reads the back.

Dear Mel,

I’m Megan and I’m writing this for my baby
brother. His name is Matthew. He can’t write yet. He likes to chew
on lots of things. He slobbers and that bothers me.

I drew a picture of him on the back of this.
I drew a picture of you too. I hope you like it.

Love,

Megan and Matthew

Myra sets the letter aside and picks up
Megan's picture, turning it over to read her letter.

Dear Mel,

Did you get my other letters? I'm in third
grade now. I love it. I have lots of friends. My best friend is
Jilly. She’s my cousin. I hope you have lots of friends in heaven.
Do they make you go to school in heaven?

Love,

Megan

Myra picks up Madison's letter.

Deer Mel,

I lik u. Ar clowds soft?

Madion

Myra stares at the missing S in her name for
a moment before dropping her head into her hands and letting the
tears flow. She quickly wipes her eyes when she hears Dylan's truck
pull into the garage.

A few minutes later, Dylan steps into the
kitchen. “What's wrong?” he asks, tugging her into his arms.

“Nothing... It's just the letters. It gets
to me every time.”

Dylan nods, kissing her tears away. He sits
down, pulling Myra onto his lap. He picks the letters up and reads
them. He hugs her, wiping a tear away before clearing his throat.
“All right... Well, let's get these ready.”

He folds the letters and hands them to Myra
to tuck into envelopes. She then attaches them to the balloons she
picked up earlier. Max, of course, wanted a Batman balloon. Megan
picked out a really pretty one with flowers on it, and Madison
chose one with Cinderella on it. Myra chose a simple blue balloon
for Matthew.

Dylan kisses her softly. “I'll go round up
the kids. You ready to go?”

Myra takes in a deep breath and nods.

* * *

Dylan frowns the closer they get to Mel's
grave. He sees a car there that he doesn't recognize.

“Who is that?” Myra asks.

“I don't know,” Dylan says, pulling in
behind them. The car doors open and out steps Sabrina... a very
pregnant Sabrina.

Myra gasps.

“
Holy
…” he starts to say before Myra
squeezes his hand to stop the profanity from falling from his lips.
He's not seen Sabrina since that night in the hospital so many
years ago when they said goodbye to each other. He talked to her a
couple of times after that night to check up on her to see how she
was recovering from her injuries, but he's not seen her since.

“Oh my goodness,” Myra gushes. “That's
Officer Garcia with her.”

Dylan frowns, staring intently at the guy,
trying to recall who he is when memories of the policeman that took
them to the hospital flood back. That was the night he told Myra he
loved her… in the backseat of that dude's cop car.

Myra helps get the kids out of the SUV,
making sure they hold tightly to their balloons while Dylan pulls a
sleeping Matthew from his car seat. He carefully tucks Matthew’s
head against his neck, pulling a blanket out and wrapping it over
him to protect him from the cold.

Closing the door, his eyes meet Sabrina’s.
She frowns, studying him intently before looking at Matthew in his
arms. She still looks the same, just a little older, her hair a
little shorter.

“Hey, kids, come over here first,” he calls
out to them. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Sabrina. Hi,” he says, leaning forward to
give her a quick half-hug.

“Dylan, I can’t believe it’s you,” she says,
smiling. “It's so good to see you again.”

“You remember Myra?”

“Of course...” The two women smile at each
other and quickly shake hands.

“And this is Marco,” Sabrina says. “I'm not
sure if you remember him…”

“I do,” Dylan says. The two men quickly
greet each other.

“Kids, this is Sabrina,” Dylan says. “And
these are my kids. The one wrestling with her balloon over there is
Megan, she's eight, and the big guy holding his mom’s hand is Max,
he's six.” Dylan looks down at his leg. “Ah, yes, and the one
hanging on my leg happens to be Madison, she’s ten…”

“Daddy…” Madison says, interrupting him.

Dylan stares down at her. “What?”

“I not ten. I’m fo.”

“Really?” he says, winking at her. “I guess
I forgot, pumpkin.”