Megan's Way (18 page)

“Olivia, honey, come home with us, and we’ll
get a good night’s rest. It will do us all good.” Holly tried, for
the fourth time, to get Olivia to go home with her and Jack. She
was worried about Olivia, who had been silent for most of the day.
She knew how hard it was to lose someone she loved. She knew that
all too well—though with her loss, she could still see her loved
one, and with Olivia’s, there was a dark abyss.

Olivia refused to leave the house. She
worried that once she left, she might never feel her mother again,
or worse, that her mother would think she had deserted her. She
knew her thoughts were not rational, but she also knew that she had
to stay in her mother’s house. Sure as the sky was up and the
ground was down, she needed to be there. Olivia looked at Holly and
whispered, “I can’t.”

Holly turned to Jack, “Why don’t you go, and
I’ll stay with Livi tonight, Jack. Okay?”

Peter piped in, “I’ll stay, too. I’m not
ready to leave either.” He winked at Olivia.

“I have to work tomorrow morning,” Jack said
to Holly. “I’ll come by afterward, if you’re sure it’s okay that I
go. I’m happy to get my stuff and stay here if you want, sweetie.”
He put his arms around Holly and held her tight.

Olivia watched them—and longed for her
mother.

The evening was quiet. Holly moved through
the actions that she had to, cooking dinner and cleaning up. She
lit candles, hoping that the familiar scents might comfort Olivia.
Every action brought a reminder of the hole in her life left by her
best friend. The flicker of the candles reminded her of Megan’s
words,
When my light goes out, just shoot me
. She cried at
the thought. The scent in the air reminded Holly of Megan’s energy
as she had rushed by her so many times over her lifetime.
Lifetime
. What did that really mean? Was this her lifetime?
Megan’s lifetime seemed so short to Holly. It was like they were
little girls hiding in trees and making pacts just last week, and
now Megan was gone. gone!

Peter tried to cheer up Holly and Olivia
throughout the evening, not quite sure what else to do with
himself. He adored Megan and still felt as though she were nearby.
He knew he was just missing her, and he wished for her to be near
again. His efforts at normalcy were met with polite smiles that
quickly faded into silence. Eventually he honored their feelings of
sadness and loss with quiet.

At about midnight, Olivia broke the silence
and said, “Quiet breeds too much thought.” Which made Holly and
Peter raise eyebrows and give a little laugh. That was one of
Megan’s favorite sayings. She’d liked chattiness and felt as though
sharing thoughts was vital to healthy relationships and a fun life.
They began sharing their memories of the wonderful things that
Megan had done, the way she kept every moment alive and fun.

Holly shared with Olivia stories of their
childhood games and sleepovers, the birthday parties they had
crashed, and the boys they had had crushes on.
Oh the boys!
She spoke happily of their college days, how she and Megan had been
roommates and Jack had attended a school nearby, and of their
weekly gatherings at the Women’s nest. Her face softened as she
spoke of those get-togethers, and she remembered the ease with
which they would fall into conversations and pour over their lives
and eventually their books.

Peter relayed his memories of how he had
adored Megan when they first met and followed her around like a
puppy, enthralled with the way she looked at life as an exciting
adventure, one not to be missed. He told of his admiration for her
lack of needing a man in her life, and how strong she was in the
face of trials and life’s harder side.

Olivia cried, mostly. She cried as she
laughed at their stories and as she told her own. She told them how
much she already felt the void in her heart, how she wished she
could be held by her mother one more time. As she spoke, the
candles flickered, as if there were a breeze, and the smell of
lavender and coconut instantly became more aromatic. Olivia’s face
lit up, and with a little laugh, she stood and stretched her arms
out to her sides, closed her eyes.

“Do you smell her?” she whispered to them.
“She is here! She didn’t really leave me. She is here!” She twirled
herself around, and sure as sugar, Holly and Peter smelled her,
too.

The two of them got up and sniffed the air,
nodded, as if confirmation were necessary.

Olivia reached her arms up toward the
ceiling, “I love you, Mom!” she yelled.

Megan knelt beside Olivia who was asleep on
the couch. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.”
even as she spoke the words, she knew she was, in fact, fading. She
could sense it. It was as if the little emotional energy she had
was somehow lifting away from her. With no understanding of why she
had been allowed to remain on the outskirts of life, she was
thankful. She could only imagine that it was her own doing, that
she had willed herself to stay, unable to pass through and fully
let go of her life on earth. Olivia’s well being plagued her, and
the struggle to remain around her was one she was willing to fight
for.

Olivia woke with a start. Her dream had
seemed so real. She looked around the room and felt as though she
could reach out and touch her mother. She looked at Holly and
Peter, fast asleep in the recliner and the chaise lounge.

“Mom?” Olivia whispered. There was no answer.
“Mom?” she said again, then held her breath, waiting, hoping for an
answer she knew she would not hear.

Olivia tucked her mother’s bear under her
right arm and headed upstairs toward her bedroom. At the top of the
landing, she stopped, drawn toward her mother’s room instead of her
own. She took in the rumpled bedspread.
Why make sure it’s
perfect?
Her mother always said,
It’s just going to get
wrinkly anyway
. Olivia smiled at the memory. She walked slowly
into the room, feeling as though she were entering forbidden
territory, and not sure why she suddenly felt as though her
mother’s room, the room she had slept in, wept in, and played in,
felt unexpectedly unfamiliar and off limits.

She put a dab of her mother’s lavender and
coconut moisturizing lotion on the inside of each wrist and
breathed it in. She walked to the bed and lay down slowly. The
floral smell of her mother’s hair conditioner still remained on her
pillow and comforter.

After fifteen minutes or so, restless and
unable to fall asleep, she moved to the window seat and picked up
the vase she had made her mother when she was a little girl. She
rolled it around in her hand and the hidden pills spilled out onto
the seat and tumbled to the floor like hail from the sky, little
reminders of her mother’s pain left behind.

Olivia’s heart beat faster in her chest. Her
breathing grew louder. Her sadness turned to anger, as she
remembered that her mother had
chosen
not to take the pills
and to let herself die. She threw the vase across the room and
yelled, “God damn it, Mom! Why didn’t you take these!” She kicked
at the pills and swiped the remaining ones off of the seat with a
quick slash of her hand. They flew through the air like unwanted
trash.

Olivia ravaged her mother’s room, driven by
anger that hurt to her core. She pulled open her mother’s drawers
and looked…for what? For a note? For something that might give
Olivia a hint of information, anything that she might have left
behind? She threw the underwear and socks on the floor, carelessly
trampled them as she hastily made her way to the bedside table and
ripped open the drawer. She grabbed her mother’s journal and tried
to read, but was too upset to focus. Her tears made it impossible
to see the writing clearly. She threw the leather-bound journal
against the wall.

Megan tried to break through to Olivia as she
felt, more than saw, her daughter’s heart blackening with grief.
She reached for her, mentally and physically, but was blocked by
her daughter’s anger.
Oh, Livi, please let me in!
She was
forced to watch her daughter’s pain eating her from the inside out.
Megan was helpless and cried a stream so thick it formed a
river.

Olivia came out of the closet holding her
mother’s small mahogany chest in her shaking hands. She’d seen the
box many times before. It held her mother’s most cherished
possessions. She and her mother had gone through the box many times
throughout the years. She was enamored with the box itself, and it
had brought fresh delight each time her mother had brought it down
for her to enjoy. Megan would draw out each item very slowly,
making Olivia wait what seemed like an hour for the big reveal.
Olivia’s eyes would grow as big as hard boiled eggs with
anticipation. Megan explained the significance of each item, and
wove stories so grand that Olivia felt as though she were listening
to a fairy tale.

She ran her finger across the top of the
chest and remembered how special she had felt when her mother had
shared her secrets. She felt a touch of her anger fade as she
lifted the top of the chest in search of those treasured items.

Instead, Olivia was met with an envelope that
read “Olivia Leigh” in her mother’s handwriting. Her hands shook as
she turned the envelope over in her hands, afraid of what it might
contain and the emotions it might spark. She tucked the letter into
her back pocket and cleared off her mother’s bed. She picked up her
mother’s bear from the floor where she had cast it away in her fit
of rage, hugged it to her chest, and lay down. Her first breath
brought her mother’s smell into her lungs. Her seventh breath
brought her sleep.

Olivia was thankful that Holly and Peter had
left her alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see them, but she
wasn’t sure she was capable of being nice to others. She climbed
out of her mother’s bed and walked through the warm sunlight that
streaked the floor and into her mother’s bathroom. She put her
mother’s favorite foaming bath gel into the tub, turned on the
faucet, and lit her mother’s Jasmine candle that sat on a little
shelf next to the window. She loved that the wick was half burned
already. She loved feeling as though she were close to her mother,
following in her mother’s rituals.

Olivia undressed, and the letter from her
mother fell onto the bathroom floor. She stared at it for a moment,
filled with both curiosity and a growing anger. She watched as it
unfolded slightly, as if it were trying to open itself. She laid it
gently on the top of the toilet, closed the door, and lowered
herself into the hot bath.

Her body relaxed as she remembered the ritual
of the night before, the way her mother had calmed them all,
working her way down their bodies and into their souls. She was
happy she had been there. She was proud of her mother and her place
in the ritual, the leader. She understood, now, why she had been
kept away for so many years. It was a private ceremony. It was not
for kids. The thought made her even happier. She was not a child
anymore. They had allowed her to be part of the ritual. That must
mean that she was growing up. She smiled to herself and let her arm
flop over the side of the tub as the steam filled the bathroom and
fogged the window and mirror.

Olivia peeked at the letter several times
before finally leaning forward and taking it carefully between her
index finger and thumb. She looked it over. The plain envelope and
delicate lettering of her name reminded her of her mother’s natural
way, her unstructured beauty, and her ease of being. She ran her
hand across the front of the envelope, turned it over, and ran her
hand along the back, leaving a wet streak all the way across.

With a heavy sigh, she sat up in the tub,
dried her hands on the towel that lay on the floor, and carefully
opened the letter. Before reading, she closed her eyes, took a deep
breath, and then straightened her back, bracing herself for what
lay within.

My Dearest Olivia,

I am so sad that you have to receive such
a letter from me. I always thought I’d be here to watch you grow
into the beautiful, caring woman that you are already becoming.
There are no words to express my sadness to be away from you. But
as you know, I am always with you, feeling your pain and your joy,
helping to guide your way. All you have to do is be open to me. Let
me in and I will be there
.

Tears streamed down Olivia’s face and into
the tub. She blinked often to clear them away. Shifting her body,
she began again.

I know you are angry with me for making
the choice to stop my treatments, and for hiding it from you. But
it was something I had to do. Trust me, please. I saved you months
of torture, of watching me slowly die. You may think it would have
been better to have me around longer, but I wouldn’t have wanted
you to go through the pain of watching my body and my mind
deteriorate and see me in such pain. There is a point where ailing
bodies deteriorate to the point that people become unrecognizable.
There is a point where their minds do not function very well. A
point where a person’s body becomes like an infant again, in need
of constant care. I did not want you to go through that. I’m not
certain I would have been able to, either. I want you to remember
me as I was, happy, loving every minute of life, dancing, reading,
painting, and enjoying the textures and sounds of our cozy little
nest. Remember how we danced at midnight every July 4th! Remember
how, when you were little, you would cuddle up in my bed and tell
me the bed was too hard and we would just move to another bed,
until we ended up on the couch in front of the fire—where you
wanted to start out anyway
.