​​​Epilogue

She fought. She wasn’t counting on that. But there was something about living in a cheap rental and her granddaughter wearing too much eyeliner that forced Rochelle to snatch at little bits of life while the cancer broke her down. She went to church, a small non-denominational one in Junction that didn’t seem to take a hard stance against lipstick. She invited Wren. And Wren went because she couldn’t stand staying in the apartment with a woman she couldn’t talk to. Her mother was still a mess but this time, a mess that kept to herself in her room. Jerry went out a lot to who knows where. And Wren? She was angry enough at me to talk.

“I hate you,” she said one day after stealing a ten from Jerry’s wallet. She bought glue, and we walked to the edge of the park and sat at the skinny fishing dock that stretches into the lake. There were ducks there and green water that crystallized in the sun.

“I know,” I say. She sniffs it and nonchalantly like she was wiping her nose. There were joggers and women with strollers and children screaming everywhere. But we were sitting tight inside a bubble, Wren and me.

“You did all of this.”

“I can’t say that’s accurate.”

“You didn’t stop it.”

“Now that part’s accurate.” She’d been thinking on me in her heart. It’s the type of thought that always comes when you’re at the end of yourself and everyone else for that matter. It’s the type of thought my beautiful Mack had right at the last moment.

“So what do I do?”

“See, that question doesn’t even resonate, does it? You can’t do anything.”

“Way to crack that case, Sherlock.” She winces. “Sorry.”

“No offense taken. What I’m saying is that I’m the one that fixes this, Wren. The only one. And until you can come to terms with that, well, you’ll still be clawing your way up the sides of the pit. And those are some very tall walls, my friend.” She sniffs again, a long one this time. Nods.

“You’re going to have to stop that, you know. It clouds your brain, tears it apart. And you’re going to need a strong mind for the next phase of all of this. Not to mention, a strong heart.”

“Yeah, I figured. Nothing’s easy.”

“Would you want it to be?” Wren laughs and a tear takes its time down her face.

“I want to say ‘yes’ to that question. But something tells me the answer’s ‘no.’”

“Ding, ding, ding,” I whisper and hold her close as another tear catches up with its friend.

#

ROCHELLE IS MOVED TO hospice. Wren calls her grandfather who sounds different, not so sure of himself. She can hear something shrill in the background that sounds like the cross between a banshee and someone who’s lost their meds. But her grandfather tells her he has everything covered financially in that matter of fact way of his and says, “I hope you’re doing well, Wren.” There’s nothing she can coherently say to this, so she fumbles her way off the phone.

Poor Mimi, she thinks.

But Mimi doesn’t think the same. She’s in bed staring at the ceiling. She just got off the phone with Ann who cried enough rivers for the both of them to sail down. She’ll miss her friend. That’s true. But she looks forward to seeing her again and wonders if obnoxiously large hats are allowed on the new earth.  I think I can make an exception.

The final moments are hard ones but not for Rochelle. Natalie refuses to come. Wren hates her for it, but it’s not because Natalie is cold-hearted. She just can’t do it. She just can’t watch Rochelle lose consciousness. She can’t do another funeral. But ultimately, she will do another funeral because guilt eats at her bones, and she can’t leave Wren alone with all that pain. Rhonda drives Wren and sits helplessly in a chair while Wren holds Mimi’s hand. Wren watches her past and her rock float away, and she’s devastated but not hopeless. Mimi helped her understand the new earth and being with the Lord until Christ returns and how we’ll all be together again if Wren wants it that way. She’s decided she does.

They look like two lumps of coal, Natalie and Wren, sitting on the pew at Rochelle’s funeral. It’s a small affair that surprisingly Glenn Augustus shows up for. He hangs in the back with Jerry who doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Rochelle didn’t want to go back to Texas. She wanted to stay here and be cremated and buried wherever Wren thought fit. She explained this to Ann who cried so hard she was expecting to vomit, but Rochelle said, “This is the right choice. And I know you know that. I also know you know this is a small blip in the big picture. Keep your eyes on the big picture, Ann.” And Ann promised she would.

I walk with them, Natalie and Wren, as they go up and look at Rochelle. They say goodbye in a funeral home that is empty save for themselves and Jerry and Glenn Augustus who is watching his entire life crash over his head but is too stubborn to do anything about it. He leaves softly while they peer into Rochelle’s quiet face.

After it’s done, the cremation, Wren is given the urn which is really a box. It has Rochelle’s date of living and her full name: Rochelle Diana Reynolds. No “Augustus” even though the divorce was never finalized. She wanted to go back to the beginning, which is something you really can’t do. But you can look forward to the light that will most likely set you on fire.

And take that first step.

Wren holds onto it in her room. Natalie doesn’t say anything. Wren looks at it, and figures it’s time to take that step. She calls Rhonda and Rhonda calls Mrs. Ling. Mrs. Ling, who has always been a very persuasive woman in her own way, talks to the activities director at Morningside who runs wild with the idea. Philip isn’t a believer, but a man intent on drama. He was never accepted into NYU to major in stage theater, so he makes Morningside his stage. He calls the preacher who administers communion to the residents on Sundays and finds a metal wash tub he sets in the middle of the dining hall. He works his “magic,” and when he’s done, the place looks absolutely ridiculous. But the thing is, it doesn’t even matter. Wren’s already plucked the heart from her chest and put it in my hands. It doesn’t matter how much white taffeta Phillip uses to “juze up” the windows. It doesn’t matter that the wash tub is a tad too small so Wren will be shoving herself down into it like a coiled snail shell. What matters is that she trusts me.

And when I knocked, she opened.

She’s wet and her muscles train to hold tight into a painful ring. The pastor “dunks” her, half an inch of water grazing over her face and body. And when she comes up and opens her eyes, she’s looking past the fluorescent lighting into a whole new world of possibility. And I am right there with her.

Afterwards, she eats cake with Mrs. Ling and Rhonda and they talk about Mimi. She lightly touches on Natalie who she didn’t even invite, let alone tell. “Two baptisms? What, the first one didn’t take?” She could already hear her mother’s frustration coming from the cave of her bedroom. Natalie quit Double Dees and has been living off Jerry’s good graces, something she vowed never to do. But she seems broken now, troubled. Wren wonders if she can feel the rocks at the bottom with the tips of her toes.

After she finishes her piece (which came from a large sheet cake in the shape of a very pink cross), she watches Phillip interpret his mistaken understanding of baptism with a dance he choreographed last night. And Wren laughs at how everybody always seems to get everything oh so wrong.

#

NATALIE SWEATS IN HER room. She feels inhuman. It’s been happening for a few nights now, and she doesn’t know what it is or why it’s happening.

The demons.

I’ve allowed them to come out where she can see them. And they can feel me in the corner watching as they tread the ground, some with pointed hooves, others with thick talons. One even looks like an alien, a pure white being with deep slanted eyes. That one thinks he’s the king of deception. They keep watch, not trusting me, yet reveling in their good fortune. I let them revel. They won’t be doing it for long.

The first one, Natalie chalks up to a bad night’s sleep. But it’s there under the surface, her inability to move and the hot breath wrapping around her throat. The next few nights she’s come unleashed a little. She stops brushing her teeth, and Jerry sleeps alone on the couch. She wants to yell out to him when it happens, but she can’t. I keep her body paralyzed and her voice quiet. She needs to fully know and understand what she’s messing with. Evil.

And evil ceases for no one but me.

But eventually, I call them off. She’s left a sweaty mess one night, forcing every cell to stay awake so she doesn’t have to experience whatever that was again. She starts talking. I listen.

“I-I’m, you know...”

“No. I don’t.”

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” She’s messy in her sweat and knotted hair and bad breath but to me, she looks beautiful in this shade of vulnerable.

“Yes. That I know.” She’s thinking about everything she’s lost with the power of her own hands. She misses her husband and father and the sister who still thinks of her in Texarkana. She looks at the future like it’s a deep dark nothing and fear starts to eat her heart again.

But then, I tip her chin up.

#

ONE DAY, NATALIE COMES alive. She leaves her room while Jerry works and Wren silently prays through school. She showers and brushes her hair into a braid down her back. She puts on her “fat pants” the only pair of jeans she owns that doesn’t cut off her circulation and a cream turtleneck sweater Rochelle had gotten her one Christmas long ago. She finds her boots, and her coat and gathers things into her purse. And then she finds Rochelle’s ashes and puts them in the crook of her arm.

She goes for a drive. She takes what she believes is still Rochelle to TGI Fridays. She stashes her in her bag and gets waited on by a guy named Kevin because Tiffanie doesn’t work week days. No matter. Natalie wants things to be different and feels this is a good sign. After Kevin delivers her broccoli cheddar soup and leaves her be, she takes Rochelle out and places her on the other side of the table in her tucked away booth.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Natalie gives a wicked a grin. “I mean, I know you didn’t have much choice, but I needed to talk to you.” She quiets as Kevin comes by to refill her water and pretends to not see the box on the table.

“Sorry about that. Waiters,” she says, remembering she was one what feels like a lifetime ago. “My father told me a bible verse once. ‘The foolishness of man perverteth his way: and his heart fretteth against the Lord.’ At the time, I thought he was babbling. We didn’t go to church growing up. I’ve never gone to church as an adult. But when he said it...it was like a sword piercing right through my middle. It worried me. It sat inside me a long time, and there would be moments that phrase would pop out at me, and I’d just shove it way in the back. Why should I care what the Lord thinks? I don’t believe in the Lord. But I still couldn’t stop caring and worrying. And it was so frustrating because I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way.” Natalie stops and swallows another mouthful of soup. She’s gotten very hungry and so has the baby inside her. The baby she tries to ignore.

“I know you believe in God, Rochelle. And I’m less inclined now to think you’ve lost your marbles. I’ve seen, I’ve seen the evil at night.” Kevin walks by on his way to the kitchen and starts to worry he won’t be getting a tip.

“I can see it now. And I’m giving it all up. I can’t stop it. I can’t do it on my own. I can’t.” She says again, her face wet with fear. But I place my hand on her back and the string of words hits her where the sword used to stay put. But I can.

“I know, I think. I’m starting to realize that. But I don’t know where to begin.” Wren. She nods and swallows the taste of broccoli. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. Rochelle, if you see Mack. And please say you see him. Let him know how sorry I am. How I failed him and how I should have been okay with just...being.” I hold her, and she nods her head into my shoulder. She can feel me, truly, and she starts to weep with a pure and grateful heart.

Kevin starts to walk toward the table with the check, giving up all hope.

#

IT WAS A LONG DAY OF prayer, so a headache rattles against the edges of her skull. Rhonda had a doctor’s appointment so Wren prepares for the long walk back to the apartment. But as she exits, she sees her mother, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. Her mom’s showered, and her face is light with makeup. Her hair is braided and she’s wearing a top that’s always sat crumpled in the back of her closet. Wren’s ashamed to think how she looks like a real mom.

“I just had this feeling I needed to see you.” They move toward the parking lot, pass The Yard on their way. Wren stares at it a bit too long, remembering the sweet release of everything through one simple punch. But then she sees Leslie waving at her from the parking lot, and she weakly waves back. Maybe simple isn’t always best.

“About?” Wren asks.

Natalie’s eyes semi-circle around her daughter. “Where’s your bike?”

“You first.”

“Fine. Facing the aftermath of...everything.” They get inside the car, and Natalie fires it up. Warm air blasts at both of them. She starts to drive.

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. And I’m not going to. I’m going to leave that up to...” Natalie purses her lips and glances at the rearview mirror. Something flashes brightly at her. “Him.”

“O....kay? Who’s this “him”? Are you seeing “him” right now?”

“Shut up,” Natalie laughs and smacks Wren on the arm. Wren smiles. She’s missed her mom.  “God. I’m leaving it up to God.”

Wren’s smile freezes. She says it before she can think about it. “I got baptized last week.”

“Again? The first one didn’t take?” Like clockwork. This time, it’s Wren’s turn to smack.

“No...I don’t know. My heart wasn’t in it last time. I think I just did it because I wanted to be like Mimi. But now...I want to be like Jesus.” Natalie glances at her daughter, tries to pin down what seems so different about her.

“That’s good, Wren. I mean, I don’t know how all this is supposed to work, but at least it feels better. At least I’m not covered in chicken grease getting cat-called by a bunch of wannabe hunters.”

“There is that,” Wren says. She watches the world whip by them through the window. “Mareck,” she adds. “Gone forever.”

“Sucks about the bike,” Natalie says. “But good riddance.”

“Something like that.”

They pass their apartment complex, and Wren starts to question where they’re going. But then she just sits back and enjoys the ride. A little while later they end up at the Wal-Mart in Junction.

“Well, I suppose first thing’s first,” Natalie says. “Time to get you a new coat.”

#

THE NEXT STEPS HAPPEN with little effort on Natalie’s part. And she figures that’s probably why they feel so right. She calls her sister. She knows if the line is disconnected or Rebecca doesn’t answer, then that’s one road she won’t be traveling. But if she does, well...

“Hello?” Rebecca sounds the same, and for a moment, Natalie is back to the day she learned her father died.

“Hi.” She starts to explain who she is, but Rebecca starts crying.

“Well, it took you long enough didn’t it? What’s wrong? Economy too unstable to sell that mansion of yours?”

“Something like that. Look–”

“Don’t you ‘look’ me. You don’t have anything to say to make this better.”

“You’re right. I absolutely don’t, Rebecca. All I can say is I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ever left. I should have stayed home to be with you and Dad.” She remembers her father and the flood gates open. He knew, but he let her make her own decision.

Rebecca goes quiet on the phone. She wants to hold on to her own self-righteousness, but she can feel it slipping away. Antonio is thirteen and giving her a run for her money, and Steven left a few months ago, and she hasn’t told anyone. She wants to tell her sister.

“Can you forgive me?”

Rebecca takes in a lungful of breath and sighs out, “Always.”

#

“MY SISTER NEEDS ME,” is how she puts it to Jerry. Jerry has a clean heart, a good soul. But he’s been putting stock in a woman when he knows that time and commitment belong to me. He nods his head, sitting in the kitchen, a plate of untouched jerky sitting between them like an offering. He feels like the sacrifice. Like the one who always gets the raw end of the deal.

“That’s fine, Natalie. You go. I figured this would happen eventually anyways,” he says, trying his best not to sound bitter.

“Jerry I’m so grateful for you. So is Wren. You’ve done nothing but treat us with kindness and respect. And I haven’t done the same. I’ve been terrible to you, Jerry. I’ve wasted your time and money making you think that we’re some sort of makeshift family. But I never committed to that like I should have. But I think it’s a good thing I didn’t. I wasn’t honest with myself. I was miserable. And I feel like for the first time I have a chance to be better. To do better. And I have to face my consequences before I know how to be a good wife again. I just feel this pull to go back and face my demons.

Jerry nods again because that he understands. He thinks of his mother for a fleeting moment, the only kind he lets himself think when it comes to her. She hurt him. The woman allowed evil to consume her. And he knows he’s been using Natalie like a human security blanket. He has to do the same thing. Face his demons even if he’s afraid they’ll swallow him whole.

“Jerry, you’re better at this whole thing than I am. I know how you feel about God. And I know deep down you’re willing to trust Him to put you right where you belong.” He looks at her, a question in his eyes. Such a beautiful woman who suddenly starts to speak his same language. The pang of loss is so real inside of him. But so is knowing I always have a way of working things out.

#

TEXARKANA. WREN DOESN’T want to leave Rhonda and Jerry and Mrs. Ling but that’s about it. She buried Mareck a long time ago, so setting foot on old soil feels like something she needs. It’s something Natalie needs too.

When she packs up her room, Wren finds trash and old socks balled up in a corner of her closet, and underneath, the plastic eyes of an old furry friend. Wren smiles.

They stay with Aunt Rebecca who’s grateful for the company. Wren doesn’t take Antonio’s loud mouth and disrespect, and he’s so afraid of her, he starts to clean up after himself.

Natalie has long talks with her sister at night on the patio. She learns about her brother-in-law’s affairs, each one puncturing the happy home image she’s always had of Rebecca’s family. She tells her sister the man better leave town if he knows what’s good for him. And she means it.

Val is still around, still a manager. Still an obnoxiously loud barfly, but I nudge her a bit to help Natalie get her old job back. It’s practically the same crowd she started with, which is kind of unnerving, but nobody knows the mess she made in White Smoke. If anything, they think she can teach them a thing or two which makes Natalie giggle on the inside. She certainly can but not in the way they think.

She calls Hootie, trying to keep him involved in his kid’s life even if it makes her stomach turn. But nobody returns her calls until the day Denise answers and tells her to leave them alone for good. She gets Natalie’s address before slamming down the phone, and a week later, a check comes with Natalie’s name on it. Ten grand. Hush money. Natalie opens a savings account, and puts it in the bank. She refers to it as “our future.”

She calls Jerry. The first time his voice is sad, but the next few times it’s lighter. He’s been going to church regularly and meeting with a group of men Wednesday nights for Bible study. He’s doing well at work and taking down the entire bowling community with his unstoppable strikes. He makes Natalie laugh, and there’s a little seed planted there that continues to grow with every call. Jerry stops being just a “good guy” and moves into a different space in her heart. I give her time to realize what she has in somebody like him.

They decide to bury Rochelle. Wren actually decides and goes to Rochelle’s old church to do it. She signs herself and Natalie up as members, and when word gets out that they’re related to Ro, Ann snatches up their number and calls them immediately. They plan a proper burial in the church cemetery, and the whole church shows up for it. Natalie is shocked but in a really great way.

As with anything, there’s always a time to reflect on the beginning. You can’t live in the past. You can never ever change it, but you can hold it in your hands and peer into it. See where the colors started to fracture but always landing on where they blend as the world keeps spinning.

They plant their feet in the dirt, Natalie and Wren, on one particular day when the sky hovers between light and dark and curiosity gets the better of them. The air almost smells like it used to here when the three of them would sit on the front porch or Wren would grab the heart on his hand heading to the truck. But now they hold each other’s hands, Wren’s right one reaching for the tree hovering above her.

And she looks up.