The Do-Over(61)

He nodded his head.

The ceremony ended with the playing of Stacy’s favorite song, Train’s Drops of Jupiter. Wiping my eyes again, I turned to Jonathan, “Pat Monahan wrote this song after his mother’s death. Part of it came to him in a dream. Best song he ever wrote,” I whispered.

Announcements were made about the burial and repast as everyone stood, allowing Wes and people I assumed were his cousins and an elderly aunt to exit to the outer room. It was time for me to convey my condolences to Wes and my anxiety was peaking at just the thought of approaching him. When I reached where they were gathered, he was surrounded by people. So, I stood off to the side and waited.

Almost pulled off my feet, Julien had grabbed hold of my upper arm and started dragging me off.

“Get your hands off me.” I wrenched my arm free. Pointing my finger at him, “Do not touch me again,” I seethed.

“I think you need to leave,” his voice was a low, harsh whisper.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready.” People were milling past us, unaware of what was going on.

“Don’t you think Wes has been through enough today without having to deal with you?”

I laughed. “Seriously, Julien? When have you ever cared what Wes was going through or put Wes first?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The man was looming over me imposingly.

“You want to know what it means?” I smiled. “It means I know a lot more than you think I know. And you’d better be careful around me or I will blow your life apart.”

“Those are some big words.”

“Yes, they are. And it would do you good to heed my advice.” With that, I turned on my heel and headed back to where Wes was standing. Still surrounded by guests, I no longer cared about being polite and negotiated my way into the center of the circle until I was face-to-face with him.

“I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am and how fortunate I feel to have had the opportunity to really get to know Stacy and become friends. I really enjoyed the time she and I spent together.”

Nodding, Wes smiled. “She felt the same way. And I haven’t thanked you for all you did taking her to treatments and visiting her in the hospital and keeping me updated on everything. I really did appreciate it, Tara.”

I nodded. There were no more words. None that were appropriate to speak in this setting. Leaning forward, I hugged Wes, taking him by surprise. His hands went on the sides of my waist, but not a hug. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I whispered and turned away, hoping to find the closest exit quickly.

I’d taken maybe three steps and Julien was upon me. My index finger immediately shot up to an inch from his nose. “Don’t you touch me,” I seethed and kept walking. Turning back to glare at him, I saw the stunned look on Wes’ face as he took in the encounter.

Finding the exit, I made it out to my car, my hands shaking as I tried to hit the right button on the remote to open the doors. Once inside, I immediately turned the air conditioning onto high and put my head down on my steering wheel. I’m not going to cry here, I decided. I will drive to a parking lot and pull in if I need to lose it.

Lifting my head from the steering wheel, I watched as they loaded Stacy’s iris covered casket into the hearse. Wes emerged from the funeral home, unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling out his sunglasses before he slipped into the limousine. My heart seared with the pain of losing him again, except this time I wasn’t calling his name, trying to get his attention. Maybe we were always meant to stay on our respective sides of the bridge, running parallel, but leading separate lives.

As the hearse began to pull away, the heaviness in my heart took on additional weight. I had lost a friend who died way too young. A woman who brought art to kids with special needs. I was going to miss her sharp tongue and our sparring.

Oh Stacy, I’m not going to be able to accomplish what you asked of me. And I’m sorry for that. But Wes and I need to go our separate ways and rebuild our lives. I am the last person he wants taking care of him.

But what I can do is try to lessen the void in your art students’ lives. I can’t replace you or what you’ve given to them, but maybe I can make sure art stays in their lives through graphic arts and other forms of artistic expression. That I can do. I can try and carry on your work and make sure what you started with these kids continues. I would be honored to do that.

Putting my car in drive to leave, I began to feel better. While I didn’t have a lot of hope for myself, I could make sure that it wasn’t lost for the special kiddos that meant so much to Stacy.





Chapter 22


By the second week, I realized Saturday mornings were becoming my personal savior. They pulled me from a dark space that enveloped me too much of the time. I had never dealt with depression and wondered if this is what it was or if I just needed to work through grief at the loss of two people I cared about deeply. Sunday through Friday, with effort, I was just going through the motions and I was doing it because that is what I owed my daughter.

Now Saturday, that was a different story. There were seven children in the art class. They had different degrees of communication skills and all of them were very unique. Scarlett joined me to lend a hand, as did her BFF Emmy. Working hand over hand with some of the students, they expressed themselves in bright colors and patterns on canvases that told stories many could not verbalize. It was a joy to witness their personalities and creativity come alive through their creations.