"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."
--inspired by an Eskimo legend.
"Angels Among Us"
by Valerie Willman
3243 words
~
On Wednesday, Aubrey and I walked through the beige hall down to Stacey's apartment door. Well, I walked and Aubrey toddled. Do twenty-two-month-olds walk yet?
"Here we are." I pointed to the door. "Do you want to knock?"
She did and we heard Stacey's muffled, sing-song voice.
"Open the door, Aidan."
Aidan grasped Aubrey's hand and dashed her off to his bedroom. Stacey held the dining room chair for support and her other hand possessively stroked her belly. I shooed her back to the couch.
Aidan and Aubrey were six months apart in age and made good playmates and I was here to cheer up Stacey. She was bedridden and pregnant with her second child. Rob and I had been trying at the same time, only I wasn't there yet.
Candles and miniature framed photos lined the entertainment center. I sat on the carpet below the couch and the TV was set low to one of those hideous talk shows she watched. Aidan and Aubrey squealed from the bedroom on his PlaySkool slide.
"Maybe I'll try another pregnancy test," I said. She knew about the last one. "Did I tell you about my weird period?"
"No." She shifted on the blue sectional and gestured towards the fan in the window. I pulled the drape back to expose the open window a bit more and crawled back to my seat on the floor. Massachusetts had mean humidity in the summer and August 2000 was no exception.
"I had my period and then two weeks later I had another one." I made a face and Stacey mirrored it.
"So I don't know when to take the next test. Do I count from the first period or the second weird one? I didn't even bleed that long -- like two days. If I count from the first one, I could take another one now. If I'm counting from the second one maybe I'd be ready for another one -- but probably not."
"I'd wait until Friday and take one then."
"But I want to take one now." I smiled, not at all ashamed of my impatience.
After visiting for a few hours, Stacey asked if we'd stay to dinner.
"I can't. Rob visited Monday night and left a note saying he might make it home tonight for dinner."
"Monday?"
"Yeah. He came home from The Cape to visit me." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I always have school on Monday nights. Why would he forget that? But while he was home he got a chance to give Aubrey a bath and had dinner with his mom."
"Is he enjoying himself?"
"Yeah. He gets to play soldier, practice at the rifle range and hone his survival skills." I struck a warrior pose. "I talked to him on the phone yesterday and he said his squad was dropped into the swampy woods and they found their way out, thanks to a refresher course in navigation."
~
"Come on, Aubrey. Sleepy, sleepy." I walked her around the room, alternately swinging or bouncing her in my arms to induce sleep. Rob hadn't made it home for dinner after all. I sighed; oh well. He didn't promise. The note just said he'd try. I hummed to Aubrey and walked another 1/116 of wax off the wood floors in the path in-between my and Rob's bed and the crib.
Our bedroom, that the three of us shared, was crammed with furniture. Our modest 10x10 room held a queen-sized bed, a crib, a vanity table with mirror, and two dressers. Also a diaper genie and two end-tables with lamps. The window and closet took up most of two walls and we were left with eighteen inches to walk around the bed to get from one side of the room to the next.
"Hush little baby ..." "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home ...." "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound ..." "Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you ..." This child was never going to fall asleep.
Singing wasn't doing it for her tonight. Aubrey fussed and wiggled; too hot for my arms. Fine. I laid her in the crib and, drapes closed against the summer sun at 8pm on an August Wednesday, I laid across the foot of my own bed and cooed from a distance.
I woke at 10pm and felt foolish for succumbing to sleep so soon. I remembered my disgust at my mom going to bed at 8:30pm when my sisters and I were young. Fernanda wasn't home from her swing shift yet and Rob was, of course, still at A.T. at Cape Cod. It was just Aubrey, blessfully now asleep, and me.
I went to pee and recalled Stacey's suggestion to take the test on Friday. Impatient, I pulled the box out from underneath the bathroom sink. There was one test left; I'd tried the other one last month. I opened the new test stick and followed the instructions.
Is that a line? The skin around my eyes crinkled and pulled. "Perhaps perhaps perhaps" as the Cake song went.
I snuggled back into bed, this time under the covers and without jeans on, and wondered how to tell Rob.
A doorbell rang through fuzzy sleep and I looked at the clock. 1:00 a.m. Rob? I flipped back the covers and pulled on Rob's navy robe. It was closer than mine. I rushed down the green shag carpeted hall to the door that led to the garage and opened it. Fernanda beat me to the door. It was Rob.
He stepped through the white screen door that always slammed too hard and hugged his mom.
"Ay! Why are you here?"
"To see you." A big smile. White teeth against his dark Portagee skin, black hair and sooty lashes.
They embraced warmly. I smiled at Rob over Fernanda's shoulder. He smiled back and his eyes spoke of tenderness. Fernanda got one more smooch and happily padded downstairs to her section of the house.
Rob and I retired to the bathroom. It was our favorite place to talk. Many heartfelt confessions had been revealed at two, three or four a.m. in that blue and white tiled bathroom. The noisy and annoying overhead fan was perfect for private conversations. Even though we had our own living space, privacy was still an issue while we lived with Rob's mom. So that was where we talked. And that was where I told him we were pregnant. After eight months of trying we finally had number two on the way.
Rob yawned. We stood in the kitchen. I handed him a travel mug to drink from in the Explorer.
"Why go now? It's almost two in the morning. Just stay the night and drive back to the base in a few hours. Sleep now." I pulled at his jacket and pleaded. I missed him and a forty-five minute visit in the middle of the night wasn't as satisfying as you'd think.
"I can't. " He smiled with that knowing smirk. "I'd never wake up in time for formation."
I drooped. He was right. We walked to the door and I hugged him again.
"Drive safe."
"Always," he said. He looked down at me with his additional five inches.
"You have to, because you have us to think of. Me and Aubrey. And another one now, too." I added the last bit quickly, as if to convince him to stay after all.
His head cocked and joy lit up his face. Brilliance and love.
"That's right!" Remembering. Though how could you forget.
"I love you, " I said. He walked through the door and as I closed it behind him I sang the words of Alabama:
Oh I believe there are
angels among us.
Sent down to us
from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me
in our darkest hours,
to show us how to live,
to teach us how to give,
to guide us with the light of love.
I swayed down the dark hall and climbed back in bed smiling. Rob knew. We were pregnant. And our beautiful baby girl was still sleeping beside me in the crib. Life was wonderful.
And then I woke up.
~
The five a.m. knock at the door sent fingernails of dread scratching on the blackboard of my mind. Funny how the one a.m. doorbell didn't scare me but the five a.m. knock did. I stumbled to the window and saw a flashlight beam shining in the dark. Three uniforms appeared from the shadows; stiff navy blue fabric held the men rigid. It was Thursday, August 17, 2000.
"Mrs. Gomes-Pereira?"
"Yes," I said. My lips felt dry. I clutched Rob's robe tighter around me.
"May we come in?"
Rob's mother had followed me into the parlor.
"Who is it? Who's here?" she demanded in Portuguese accent.
I felt dazed. I knew there were here because of Rob. I grappled with the screen door lock.
Nothing was said, the silence shouted at me, and I watched the somber faces file into the dining room. The face in the back closed the door. The one in front, a mustached man of fifty, held up a scrap of paper.
"Does Robert Gomes-Pereira live here?"
"Yes," I whispered. My legs betrayed me and I flopped onto the computer chair, facing the trooper.
"I don't know how to tell you this, ma'am, but there's been an accident and he didn't make it."
My breath raggled to a stop. I looked at each of the three Massachusetts uniformed state troopers one at a time. My brain couldn't take these words and make sense of them. They just floated and rolled in the waves like soggy driftwood. Through blurry eyes I saw Fernanda bend over and stumble. Grief punched her in the stomach.
"My poor boy. My beautiful baby!" Fernanda wailed. She lunged at the telephone receiver and stopped. Horror.
"The number! What's the number? Why can't I ... I don't remember ..."
I knew she meant Gerry's, of course. I recited the phone number and looked over at the green pseudo-suede parlor sofa and the "throne" chair that Rob would never inherit from his mom. He died first.
"Do you want us to stay until someone get here for you?" The mustached trooper stepped forward, the forgotten scrap of paper still in his hand.
"My sister-in-law is coming." I could see the troopers getting restless, wanting to leave this suffocating haze of grief before them, but I wanted to know what happened. The two younger men shifted their hats and cleared their throats.
The man with the mustache was talking again. I looked into his apologetic eyes and struggled to understand. He was saying something about the accident. I tried to listen but a tiny green fuzz nestled between his shirt collar and neck distracted me.
"...but it appears he fell asleep driving. He hit an exit signpost on Route 25."
A wave rose from my stomach to my throat. I swallowed and shut my eyes. No tears came, but I heard crying. It wasn't me; it was Aubrey. I hurried to lift her out of the crib, grateful to escape the nothingness in the parlor.
Aubrey's thick toddler hair was damp from the sweaty room but despite the humidity she clung to me as if scared. Another clunk in my throat. Can she know already?
Fernanda sobbed something in Portuguese. She reached for Aubrey but Aubrey appeared frightened what with all the tears and sounds coming from her beloved Vavo. She clung instead to me. And grateful, I buried my nose deep in her hair and crooned softly in her ear until the uniformed faces left.
~
Wearing Rob's robe, I stared at nothing. Somewhere in the back a TV sang inappropriately cheery songs to occupy the innocent Aubrey. Fernanda shuffled back and forth moaning and praying under her breath. I looked at the floor. I have to call my mom. I need to do it now before I collapse. It was time. I blinked at the phone. Sandpaper eyes. My right index finger dialed the number; I stared at its ragged cuticle.
This isn't real, I promised myself. The answering machine picked up. It was 2:30 a.m. in Oregon. Should I leave a message? What would I say? 'Hi Mom, Call me back. Rob's dead?'
I shook my head and took a deep breath.
"Mom? It's Valerie. Are you awake? Wake up. I need to talk to you." I waited, holding my breath, hiding in the dark of our bedroom.
"Hello? Valerie? I couldn't find the phone ..."
"Mom!" I was so relieved that she was truly there, the word just gushed out. "Mom. Rob died this morning -- in a car accident." My throat burned and felt like something was stuck in my windpipe. Darkness burned the edges of my mind, curling them like charred paper. I started to shake and finally a few tears came. But not nearly enough to dislodge the huge boulder pressing at my lungs, invading my throat and initiating the gag reflex.
Mom worked great in a crisis. I knew this. All my life I always saw my mom take on a billion tasks at a time and succeed at everything she did. It was a rather daunting example to follow actually. But I knew that when I called my mom, she would know exactly what to do.
I didn't really hear anything she said on the phone. Only the part: "I'll be there. I'll figure it out and call you back in a few hours. I love you."
~
I drifted downstairs aching for Aubrey, so beautiful, so oblivious. I ached for Rob, too. I missed him already. Is he really gone? What am I going to do now?
I wanted to grow old with Rob.
We just got our passports in the mail. We planned to go to France and Germany in the spring. A sour feeling rose within me. The European family trip was only one of many unfulfilled dreams that he and I would never get to do. Our family was broken.
Where would I go now? Who would I belong to? Where would I fit in?
A door slamming and a flurry of steps interrupted my thoughts.
"Mom?! Valerie?!" Thud, thud, thud down the steps. I looked around the corner to Rob's two sisters, Gerry and Lena, weeping and snuffling down the stairs. Their extreme emotion acted as a catalyst and I burst into tears on the sight of them.
Embracing and leaning into them, I sought comfort. We wept together and then they turned to their mother.
Slowly more family arrived to share condolences and grief. Some brought me comfort and strength where I had none. Some came in an outpouring of grief and I splashed into the waves and cried, too. I felt small relief from these tears, though. It was never enough.
Why can't I cry? Really cry. These little wimpy tears don't mean anything. Why am I not thrashing around and sobbing like everyone else? Shock? I felt weird and unsettled by it. It couldn't be shock though. If a person's in shock, they're not supposed to know about it, right?
Portuguese families are big. They are full of noisy, overbearing, loving and helpful people. I relied on this aid; I leaned into it. Uncle Louis stepped in to handle some of the phone calls and family affairs and I was relieved. No one had to ask him, he just did it.
Like when I got the call from Rob's unit looking for him. I explained that he died that morning and the caller was so incredulous she asked me to repeat myself three time. Fed up, I shouted in the phone, "He's dead!" and Uncle Louis stepped up to finish the call.
Other offers of help mercifully came in. Lena asked about food, knowing of my pregnancy, and a dry bagel materialized. Gerry offered to take Aubrey home with her to be with the cousins.
"She's so little that I'm worried all the somberness and tears might be frightening for her. But whatever you think best. Whatever you want, Valerie."
At first I said no. Selfishly I wanted her warm, live body close by because Rob's was so clearly not. But an hour or so later I changed my mind. It would be better, healthier, for Aubrey to not be there.
That morning, after Aubrey and most of the family had left, I made my way to the shower. I know with certainty that now, alone, I would be able to cry those real tears. It would come, I knew.
Rob was my soulmate. We had both known it and felt it from the very beginning. The day we met we shared a pizza and conversation. The next week we started dating. Three months later we were married and exactly one year later, on our anniversary, our daughter was born. We were so closely linked in spirit we often thought thoughts at the same time. Of course I would cry! But alone in the dark, the real tears still did not come.
What am I going to do now? How am I going to live without you? I asked the wall. I felt no anger, only sorrow and emptiness. I felt as if I were perpetually holding my breath. It doesn't matter how. I just have to. For Aubrey. For the new baby.
With water pounding my skin and the shower mists blanketing me, I began to pray, "Dear God, Whoever you are, please. Please give me strength and courage to make it through this day." I shuddered to think what would follow 'this day'.
Dripping, I stepped over the side of the porcelain tub. Water soaked into the cotton bathmat. Reaching for a towel, I caught sight of a lone sunbeam shining through the slats of the blinds. It was a strong beam; bright and steady in the dark room.
Awed, I whispered, "Thank you, God. I know you are here." I dried off in silence. I joined the house of mourners with renewed strength. Still with heavy heart and full of sorrow, yes, but with a quiet strength inside me. For the moment at least. But that was all I had asked for, strength and courage for the day.
"Oh, I believe there are angels among us. Sent down to us from somewhere up above. They come to you and me in our darkest hours ..."
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