Megan's Way (20 page)

Jack ran his large fingers across Megan’s
smiling face in the second photo. She was in the center of the
photograph with one arm slung over Holly’s shoulder and the other
around Jack’s waist. Peter was crouched down in front of Megan,
reaching up with his left hand, his palm turned to rest in Holly’s
hand. Until then, Jack had been able to hold in his emotions. The
tears, however, could no longer stay at bay. They tumbled down his
cheeks and onto the table.

Holly walked behind him and put her arms
around his neck, rested her cheek against his back, and breathed in
his scent. He turned and embraced her, unashamed of weeping for his
friend.

“I remember when she did the whole princess
thing,” Holly said. “She was just so…there…for Olivia. You know?
She was a great mother, Jack. How can I ever really take her place?
What if I’m no good?”

Jack looked at her pained and beautiful face
and cupped her cheek. She turned into his palm, soaked up the
security of him.

“You are going to be wonderful, Holly,” he
said. “You are wonderful. Look how long you have been caring for
both Megan and Olivia. It’s almost as if you two were sisters. In
fact, sometimes it was hard to see where she ended and you began.
Olivia adores you, and you adore her. She doesn’t expect you to be
Megan. She just needs love, Hol, and you have plenty of that to
give.”

“I hope you’re right. I’d hate to disappoint
Megan. I do love Olivia, Jack. She’s like the daughter that I could
never have.” Holly looked at Jack guiltily, ashamed of her own
insecurities—and appalled by her deceit. She thought about Jack’s
words and hoped they were true.

“You will be magnificent, Holly. You are
going to be a wonderful mother to Olivia.” He hugged Holly around
her waist, believing every word he said.

After a few minutes, Holly pulled back gently
from Jack and said, “There’s more.”

He lifted his eyes in question.

Holly nodded and pulled a small plastic bag
out of the box. Inside the bag there was a balled-up piece of
aluminum foil. Holly unwrapped it and exposed a mound of pills that
she had found in Megan’s skirt pocket the morning after the ritual.
She held them out for Jack to see.

Jack asked, “What is that? Her
medications?”

Holly shook her head. “I don’t think so. I
think they were something she could take to…you know…to die.”

“No, n—” Jack said, shaking his head. “Megan
wouldn’t do that. We can get them analyzed. We can find out.” He
picked up a few of the pills in his hand and looked closely. “These
are Percocet. Don’t you remember when I took them for my torn
Achilles?”

The truth of the situation set in, and tears
sprung to Holly’s eyes. She sighed. “There’s no need to get them
analyzed, Jack. She told me and Livi she stopped taking her meds so
we all wouldn’t have to suffer through her deterioration. She
wanted to die quickly. I
know
what these pills are, or what
they were intended for, at least. I have no question about it. I
just thought you should know. I had to tell someone, you know?”
Holly couldn’t stop the flow of tears. She sat down in a chair at
the table and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Jack. I
understand,” she sobbed, gasping for breath. “I understand why she
didn’t want it to take a long time, but still. It still hurts. It
still feels like we were robbed of her, you know? What if they find
a cure in the next month? What if she could be here right now? Why
did she choose to end it alone?”

Jack moved to hold her in his arms, and
stroked her back. “Holly, honey, you know they aren’t going to find
a cure in the next month. She did what she had to do. You, of all
people, knew Megan best. You know,” he covered her heart with his
hand, “you know in your heart that she knew what was right for her,
for Olivia. She wouldn’t have done it if there was even a slight
chance that she could recover. Even if she would have taken the
pills, she would have known what she was doing. You have to trust
that.” He looked away, “Besides, she didn’t end it alone. She was
with you, and Olivia, and Peter.”
But not me, damn it!
he
chided himself.
I should have been there!
“But she didn’t
take them, Jack. They were still in her pocket. That means that her
body made the decision for her. That she didn’t do it, right?”
Holly asked, looking for something other than the truth to cling
to, some shred of decency for her best friend, and purposely
pushing the thought,
Or was she going to swallow them all?
from her mind.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “Her body just let
go, that’s all. She was probably going to take them, but there was
no need. She died in her sleep, right? isn’t that what you told
me?” Jack said.

“Yes,” she said. “We all had such a good time
at our ritual. It was like she was healthy again. I forgot, for a
while, that she was sick. She was like her old self, laughing and
dancing around. She didn’t complain or act like she couldn’t keep
up.” Holly wiped her eyes.

“But that was Megan, wasn’t it? That’s who
she was.

The essence of her was life itself. She
wasn’t one to complain or ask for special attention. She always
made sure everyone had a good time,” Jack said. “I remember at
summer camp when we were kids. I would tell her I was bored, and
within minutes she’d have me laughing and running around. When we
saw each other, summer after summer, it was like no time had passed
at all. That’s how she was, Hol. That’s who she was. She went out
of this world with all of the glory of her natural being. You
should be happy about that. So what if she had pills in her pocket!
it doesn’t even matter, really, does it?”

“I guess you’re right,” Holly relented. “It
wouldn’t matter if she took it or if she didn’t. She left us on her
terms in any case—and she was happy. She left when she was ready. I
just miss her so much already, you know? it’s really, really
hard—and poor Olivia.” Holly’s heart hurt when she thought of the
emptiness in her, and realized it was probably not nearly as empty
as what Olivia was feeling.

Jack held Holly for another moment and then
looked back in the box. There, at the bottom of the box, twisted
all unto itself, was Megan’s Yin necklace. Jack smiled and fingered
the rough chain. The memories that he’d hidden for so many years
came rushing to the forefront of his mind, knocking to be set free.
The feeling overwhelmed him, and he had to sit down.

The Yin rested in his hand like a fine stone,
cool and rough. He wrapped his fist around the charm and put it to
his forehead, and closed his eyes as the memories came flooding
back.

The smell of the night sea air had wafted
around them. He could still feel her hands on his back, softly at
first, then rough, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He
remembered the way her body was flecked with sand, and how it made
her giggle—and how those giggles turned to sensual moans and gasps
of pleasure. The memories of the weekend they shared, those three
glorious days, brought on a blush that climbed up his neck and
burned into his cheeks.

The ease of their togetherness, like it was
something they had done many times before—and the ill-fitting
feeling that had flittered around him that he had refused to
acknowledge at the time—he had desperately
wanted
to be in
love with Megan—and then she was gone. She had disappeared without
returning his phone calls, heading to italy to study painting with
some other famous artist. He hadn’t even thought to ask who it was
she was studying under. At the time, he had thought it was just
another of Megan’s whimsical trips, one of her wild excursions that
brought her such joy. She had done that, from time to time, as she
had noted in her letters during the autumns and winters when they
were growing up, and again throughout college breaks. He used to
vie for those summers, to be able to incite such excitement in
Megan. She had gone to California with an aunt, Montana with her
mother, and even new Mexico on her own—spur of the moment trips.
She would write such striking details upon her return that Jack
felt as though he had shared her private moments and had taken the
trips right along with her.

The trip to italy, however, had nearly broken
him. When she had left, he had felt as though even functioning were
difficult. He had thought about her night and day, anxious to see
her again. He had longed for her as he had never had for any other
woman.

Then Holly had called. She and Jack had
become friends when Megan had introduced them in college. Though
there had never been any romantic interest on either side and the
friendship was nowhere near as deep as his friendship with Megan,
the camaraderie had been nice, and he had looked forward to seeing
her and commiserating about the vast hole their mutual friend had
left in him.

In an effort to quell their loneliness, each
had allowed the other to fill the void Megan had left in their
lives. It quickly became apparent that Holly had no idea that Jack
and Megan had been together. Jack decided not to divulge it to
Holly after all, believing that Megan probably had her own reasons
to keep it a secret.

As it turned out, he and Holly shared much in
common, and a quick jog had turned to dinner, which turned to lunch
the next day and a visit to a museum the next. Five nights later,
dinner led to dessert of another kind, which led to breakfast the
next morning—and every morning thereafter. They couldn’t have
stopped what was developing if they had tried. They had fit so well
together that there had never been any question of it being right
or wrong. There had never been any discussion of it at all. It just
was.

Jack realized that while he
wished
he
could have been in love with Megan, he was not. He was in love with
Holly. She was level-headed, loving, positive, and though she was
not creative, as Megan was, she was interesting and intelligent and
supportive and not afraid to love, which was the one fault that he
could tell Megan possessed. He had always felt as though there were
a wall that Megan erected, something to keep others out of her
little world. And yet, he had fallen for her over and over again
during each summer when they were growing up, and the night on the
beach, when he had held her in his arms, although he had felt as
though he had made a fissure in her wall, he knew he had not broken
through—his heart and hers had not become one.

From the evening that Holly had shown up at
his house to fix him dinner, and he had watched her from behind,
her brown hair brushing her shoulders as she reached into his
cabinets, Jack felt as if she’d done it a thousand times before, as
if she had always been there, as if she belonged there. When they
touched, his heart was satiated and happy, not lustful or panicked.
To Jack, that feeling of fullness made him whole.

Jack wondered, as he held Megan’s Yin in his
hand, if the trip to italy was not an artistic jaunt at all, but
one of contemplation. The thought lingered in his mind as Holly
walked behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“She was wearing that,” Holly said.

The statement took Jack by surprise. He
hadn’t seen

Megan wear the necklace since the day he put
it around her neck. He opened his palm and stared at the Yin.

“I wonder what it meant to her, where she got
it,” Holly said, curiously.

Jack held his breath, as tears hedged the
corners of his eyes.
Megan never told her either
, he
thought. A lone tear found its way down his face and into his palm.
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Holly misread Jack’s actions, “I don’t know
either. It must have really meant something wonderful to her.” She
rubbed Jack’s neck.

Jack felt both guilt and happiness. The
thought of Megan wearing her Yin meant much to him, touched him in
a way that he hadn’t thought of for many years. If she knew she was
going to die, did she want to be buried with it on? Was it meant as
a sign to Jack?

Holly interrupted his thoughts, “Maybe it’s
from the guy in Italy.”

Jack’s breath caught.
Could it have
been?
The thought had never even crossed his mind. He and Holly
had been so intertwined when Megan came back, and Megan had acted
truly happy for them. There was never any animosity or awkward
feelings or glances. No, certainly he was reading too much into
this.

“What do you think?” Holly asked, as she came
around the table and sat next to Jack.

“I’m…not sure,” Jack mumbled. He quickly
wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and closed his fist again.
He looked at Holly and wondered just how to tell her. He’d never
ied to her before, never had a need to, though he never told her
about he and Megan, either.
Does a lie by omission count?
He
looked into her trusting brown eyes, which looked back at him with
warmth and love, and could muster nothing more than a shrug.
Disappointed in himself, he let his eyes drift away from Holly and
to the refrigerator. It was there that he saw the photographs of
Olivia and Megan in all phases of life. He’d seen them a hundred
times before, but it occurred to him that he’d never really looked
at them. He moved toward the pictures.

The smiling, happy faces of Megan and Olivia
stared playfully back at Jack. Photos of them building a snowman,
arm in arm in front of Megan’s murals, Olivia in last year’s school
play—and then he saw, really saw, Olivia’s face. Her dimples
mirrored his own, her hair fell straight, in stark contrast to
Megan’s curls. Jack reached up and touched his own fine hair.
I’m reading too much into this. She could look like Peter, or
even Holly for that matter.
Jack turned his back and walked
away.

He gazed into the yard, unable to stop his
mind from wandering down that path.
Could Olivia be my child?
Why wouldn’t Megan have told me?
He quickly did the math in his
head, something he had never thought to do, and realized, with a
shock, that Olivia could, in fact, be his daughter.