Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas (16 page)
Matt and I held each other and swayed to the music. I think we could have stayed there all night. Holding each other, watching
you sleep, dancing to your music-box tune.
You didn’t wake up, but a little smile crossed your face.
“Isn’t it lucky?” I whispered to Matt. “Isn’t this the best thing that could ever happen to anyone?”
“It is, Suzanne. It’s so simple, but it’s so right.”
Finally, Daddy and I went to bed, and experienced the second best thing. Matt eventually fell asleep in my arms—guys do that
if they really like you; and I got up to write this little note to you.
Love you, sweetie. See you in the morning. I can’t wait.
Hello, my sweet Nicholas, it’s Dada.
Have I told you how much I love you? Have I told you how precious you are to me? There—
now I have.
You are the best little boy, the best anyone could ever hope for. I love you so much.
Yesterday morning something happened. And that’s why I’m writing to you today instead of Mommy.
I am compelled to write this. I don’t know anything for sure right now, except that I have to get this out. I have to talk
to you.
Fathers and sons need to talk more than they do. A lot of us are so afraid to show our emotions, but I never want us to be
like that. I always want to be able to tell you what I’m feeling.
Like right now.
But this is so hard, Nicky.
It’s the hardest thing I have ever had to say to anybody.
Mommy was gong to the store to pick up your birthday present, your beautiful framed pictures. She was incredibly happy. She
looked so pretty, deeply tanned and toned from all her walks on the beach. I remember seeing her leave, and I can’t get that
image out of my mind.
Suzanne had such a beautiful smile on her face. She was dressed in a yellow jumper and gauzy white blouse. Her blond hair
was full of curls and swung with her body as she walked. She was humming
your
song, “Whistle a Happy Tune.”
I should have gone to her, should have kissed Suzanne good-bye, should have hugged her in my arms. But I just called, “
Love you,
” and since her hands were full, she blew me a kiss.
I keep seeing Suzanne blowing me that kiss. I see her walking away, looking back, giving me her famous wink. Imagining that
playful wink of hers makes me tear up as I try to write this.
Oh, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky. How can I say this? How can I write these words?
Mommy had a heart attack on the way into town, sweet baby. Her heart, which was so big, so special in so many ways, could
no longer hold out.
I can’t imagine that it really happened; I can’t get it into my head. I was told that Suzanne was unconscious before she crashed
into the guardrail on Old Pond Bridge Road. Her Jeep dropped into the water, landing on its side. I haven’t gone to look at
the actual scene of the accident. That is an image I don’t need inside my head. What I can see already is too much.
Dr. Cotter says that Suzanne died instantly after the massive coronary, but who really knows about those final seconds? I
hope she didn’t feel any pain. I hate to think that she did. It would be too cruel.
She was unimaginably happy the last time I saw her. She looked so pretty, Nick. Oh God, I just want to see Suzanne one more
time. Is that too much to ask? Is it unreasonable? It doesn’t seem so to me.
It’s important to me that you know it wasn’t Mommy’s fault. She was such a safe driver; she would never have taken any chances.
I always teased her about her driving.
I loved Suzanne so much, and I can’t begin to explain how lucky it is to find someone you can love that much and who, miracle
of miracles, loves you that much back.
She was the most generous-hearted person I have ever known, the most caring and compassionate. Maybe what I loved best about
her was that she was a great, great listener. And she was funny. She would make a joke, right now. I know she would. And maybe
she is.
Are you smiling now, Suzanne
? I’d like to think that you are. I believe you must be.
I went today to the cemetery on Abel’s Hill, to choose Mommy’s special place. She was just thirty-seven when she died. How
sad, how completely unthinkable to me, and everyone else who knew her. What a shame; what a waste. Some- times, it makes me
so angry—and I get this strange, irrational urge to
break glass.
I don’t know where it comes from, but I want to break glass!
Tonight, I sit in your nursery and watch your clown lamp throw happy shadows against the walls in the half-light. The oak
rocking horse I made for you reminds me of the Flying Horses Carousel. Remember when we all went there on our vacation and
rode the colorful horses?
Nicholas, Suzanne, and Matt.
I held you in front of me, and you loved to stroke the real horsehair mane. I can see Mommy riding ahead of us on National
Velvet. She turns— and there’s that famous wink of hers.
Oh, Nick, I wish I could turn back time to last week, or last month, or last year. I almost can’t bear to face tomorrow.
I wish this had a happy ending.
I wish I could say, just one more time:
Isn’t it lucky?
Dear, sweet Nick,
There is one image that keeps coming back to me about Suzanne. It captures who she was, and what was so special and unique
about her.
She is kneeling on our front porch one night. She wants my forgiveness, even though there is nothing to forgive. If anything,
I should have been seeking her forgiveness. She had gotten some sad news that day but, in the end, could only think about
how she might have hurt me. Suzanne always thought about other people first, but especially about the two of us. God, did
she spoil us, Nicholas.
I was startled out of my thoughts and reveries this afternoon by an unexpected phone call.
It was for Mommy.
Obviously someone had no idea what had happened, and for the first time, those strange and awful words passed through my lips
like heavy weights: “Suzanne has passed away.”
There was a long silence on the other end, followed by quiet apologies, and then nervous condolences. It was the man from
the frame shop on the other side of the island, in Chilmark Center. Mommy had never made it there, and the pictures she had
framed for you were still at the store.
I told the shop owner that I would come around for the photos. Somehow, I would manage to do it. I feel so out of it all the
time. I have a hollow feeling inside me, and it seems I could crumble like old tissue paper and blow away. At other times,
there is a stone column inside my chest.
I never used to be able to cry, but now I cry all the time. I keep thinking that I’ll run out of tears, but I don’t. I used
to think it wasn’t manly to cry, but now I know that isn’t so.
I walk aimlessly from room to room, trying desperately to find a place where I can feel at peace with myself. Somehow, I always
end up back in your room, sitting in the same rocker Mommy so often did when she talked to you and read to you and recited
her goofy rhymes.
And so I sit here now, looking at the pictures of us I finally picked up this afternoon in Chilmark.
We are all sitting in front of the Flying Horses Carousel on a perfect, blue-skied afternoon.
You are wedged between us, Nick. Mommy has her arm around you and her legs crossed on mine. You’re kissing Mommy, and I’m
tickling you, and everyone is laughing, and it’s just so beautiful.
Nicholas, Suzanne, and Matt—Forever One.
It’s time to tell you a story, Nick. It’s a story that I will share only with you. It’s just between the two of us.
Man to man, my little buddy.
Actually, it is the saddest story that I’ve ever heard, certainly the saddest one I’ve told.
I’m finding it hard to breathe right now. I’m shaking like a leaf. I have goose bumps all over my skin.
Years ago, when I was just eight, my father died very suddenly while he was at work. We didn’t expect it, so we never got
to say good-bye. For years, my father’s death has haunted me. I’ve been so afraid of losing someone like that again. I think
it’s why I didn’t get married earlier, before I met Suzanne. I was afraid, Nicky. Big, strong Daddy was so terribly afraid
he might lose someone he loved. That’s a secret I never told anyone before I met your mother. And now, I’ve told it to you.
I pull the cord on your music box in your crib, and it begins to play “Whistle a Happy Tune.” I love this song, Nicky. It
makes me cry, but I don’t care. I love your music and I want to hear it again.
I reach into the crib and I touch your sweet cheek.
I tussle your golden blond hair, always so soft and fragrant. I wish I had listened to Mommy and never cut it.
I do a nose to nose, gently touching my nose to yours. I do another nose to nose and you smile gloriously. One of your smiles
is worth the universe to me. That’s the truth.
I place an index finger in each of your small hands and let you squeeze. You’re so strong, buddy.
I listen to your beautiful laugh, and it almost makes me laugh.
“Whistle a Happy Tune” continues to play.
Oh my dear, darling little boy. Oh, my darling baby.
The music plays, but you
aren’t
in your crib.
I remember Mommy leaving on her errand that morning. I called out “I love you,” and she blew me a kiss. Then she crinkled
up her nose the way she does. You know what I mean. You know that look of hers. Then she gave me her “famous wink,” and I
can see it right now. I can see Suzanne.
Her arms were full, because she was carrying
you,
sweet baby. She wanted you to be the first to see the beautiful framed photographs. That’s why she took you with her to town
on your birthday morning.
Suzanne carried you outside and carefully strapped you in your car seat. You were in the
Jeep with Mommy when she crashed on Old Pond Bridge Road. The two of you were together. I still can’t bear to think about
it.
I should’ve been there, Nicholas. I should’ve been there with you and Mommy! Maybe I could have helped; maybe I could have
saved you somehow. At least I could have tried, and that would have meant everything to me.
Oh sweetness, I need to hear your laugh one more time. I ache to look into your bright blue eyes. To nuzzle your soft cheek
next to mine.
Oh my dear little boy, my innocent little sweetheart, my baby son forever. I miss you so much, and it destroys me that you
will never know how I feel, that you will never hear how much your daddy loves you. I miss you so much,
I miss you so much,
sweet baby. I always will.
But isn’t it lucky that I knew you, held you and loved you, for the twelve months before God took you away?
Isn’t it lucky that I got to know you, sweet little boy, my darling, darling son?
K
ATIE SLOWLY
raised her face toward the bathroom ceiling and shut her eyes as tight as she could. A soft moan rose from her throat. Tears
squeezed under her eyelids and rolled down both cheeks. Her chest was heaving. She wrapped both arms around herself.
Merlin was in the doorway, whining, and Katie whispered, “It’s okay, boy.”
A column of pain rose inside her like a hot poker cutting into her lungs.
Oh God, why would you let something like that happen?
Finally, Katie opened her eyes again. She could barely see through her tears. There was an envelope taped inside the diary,
on the very last page.
It said, simply,
Katie.
She wiped away her tears with both hands. She took a deep, calming breath. And another. The breaths didn’t help much. She
opened the plain white envelope that was addressed to her.
The letter inside was in Matt’s handwriting. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it. The tears started again as she began
to read.
Katie, dear Katie,