The Next Person You Meet in Heaven(21)

He tilted his head.

“What’re we gonna call her?”

“Annie.”

Jerry snorted.

“Like the movie? What for?”



From that moment on, Lorraine felt as if she were raising Annie by herself. Jerry took longer truck runs. He’d be gone for weeks. When he was home, he wanted his sleep undisturbed, his food on time, and his wife’s full attention when he was ready to pay some to her. If Lorraine looked up at her daughter’s crying, Jerry would grip her jaw and turn her face back towards him, saying, “Hey, I’m talking now.”

His anger increased as the months passed. So did his physical force. Lorraine was ashamed at how afraid she’d become of him, and how quickly she responded to his demands, hoping to avoid his grabbing or pushing. They never went out. She was constantly washing clothes and dishes. There were times when she wondered how, in just a few years, her life had gone from so open to so shut. She often thought about a different path, if she hadn’t worked at that bakery, hadn’t met Jerry, hadn’t gotten in his truck that night, hadn’t been in such an impetuous rush to get married.

But then she’d scold herself for imagining a world without her daughter in it, and she would lift Annie and feel her small bulk lying against her and Annie’s buttery cheeks and the way she slid her arms around Lorraine’s neck, and it erased any thought of another life.

This is the disarming power of children: their need makes you forget your own.



By Annie’s third birthday, Lorraine sensed her marriage would not last. By Annie’s fourth birthday she was sure of it. Jerry’s absences were no longer just about work, and when she confronted him over other women, his violence erupted. Lorraine tolerated him out of misguided guilt and the belief that her little girl needed a father, no matter how bad he was.

But when Jerry took his anger out on Annie, slapping her again and again after Annie opened the freezer against his wishes, Lorraine found a strength she hadn’t known. She threw him out. She changed the locks. She held Annie that night and cried into her curly hair, and Annie cried, too, although she didn’t know why.

The divorce dragged on. Jerry claimed he wasn’t working. Money became a struggle. Lorraine took on typing jobs from home. Knowing Annie was confused about her father’s absence, Lorraine tried to create a happy world for her. She encouraged Annie to dance freely, to sing loudly; they ran through sprinklers together and played board games for hours. Lorraine let Annie try pink lipstick in front of the mirror and choose her favorite superhero as a Halloween costume. For many months, mother and daughter shared the same bed, and Lorraine put Annie to sleep at night with a lullaby.

But as time passed, with the bills unpaid, Lorraine needed to take an outside job. She asked neighbors to watch Annie after school and was exhausted by the time she got home. Annie started sleeping in her own room. Eventually, Lorraine was asked out by men at her new office and she quickly accepted, especially when they paid for a babysitter. She had a string of short relationships, none of them successful. She continued trying, hoping to change her life.

Then came the day at Ruby Pier, when she got her wish, but not the way she wanted.



In heaven, vision can be shared, and Annie, having tumbled into her mother’s eyes, now found herself inside one of Lorraine’s memories, sitting at a table in the backyard of their first home. The sky was white. A laundry pole had sheets and clothes hanging, as did other laundry poles in other yards. Lorraine was wearing high heels with a blue skirt and a white blouse, an outfit she’d worn to work. There was a manila folder on her lap and documents in her hands.

“Do you know what these are, Annie?”

Annie, still trying to understand how they got here, shook her head no.

“They’re from a lawyer. Your father had them sent.”

Annie blinked. “Why?”

“He claimed I was an unfit mother. Because of your accident. He wanted custody.”

“Of me?”

“Full-time.”

“But I hadn’t seen Dad—”

“In years. I know. But he wanted to sue the amusement park, and he needed you to do that. He thought he could get big money. And when Jerry got a money idea, he didn’t give up.

“I knew what your life would be like if he took you. I knew how violent he was. So I made a decision.”

Annie glanced at the bedroom window. She saw her younger self looking out.

“I remember this day … It was when those reporters came to the door.”

“That’s right.”

“We left the next morning.”

“I never told you why.”

Lorraine laid down the papers.

“Now you know why.”

She stood and flattened her skirt.

“So that’s a start,” she said.

“A start of what?” Annie asked.

“Of ending our secrets. Come. There’s more to show you.”

Annie felt herself floating beside her mother. They rose above the house. The afternoon sky melted to dawn, and Annie saw their car pulling away the next morning, its trunk held down by a bungee cord.

“I hated leaving,” she said.

“I know you did.”

“Things were never the same.”

“They couldn’t be.”