Andy was sitting on the bench a sadness engulfed him. If felt like sea water bloated the moment and tears were barely under the scratched and barnacled surface.
“Sit with me Sierra.” He patted the smooth wood surface.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Andrew.”
“Humor me for once.” He patted the wood again.
Sullenly, I sat on the bench attempting to put distance, even if only inches between us. I fiddled with my skirt adjusting the fabric. Andy reached for me hand shackling me to him.
“Your grandfather planted the lilacs when he realized you weren’t coming home a year later. The marble angel followed soon after. I didn’t understand why he’d go to such lengths to put in another garden when he needed to be growing grapes.”
“I don’t want to hear this story.” I tried to pull my hand away, but Andy refused to let go. If anything, he held me there tighter with no escape.
“I think what you’re looking for is the desire to not live in this reality, but none of us are given that choice. Least of all me in this tale.”
Bitter bile wormed its way up my throat threatening to choke me.
“Andrew.” I begged him to stop with one word.
“Lilacs are often planted in remembrance, often when mothers loose a child.” He said and I looked away. I looked anywhere but at him as he continued talking.
“I didn’t make the connection until he asked me as his site manager to pick out a memorial stone. I thought he was going to tell me something had happened to you. I just didn’t expect him to say what.”
“Did he tell you.”
“No.”
I stay silent because the horrible truth of mine is finally coming to light. It’s all on the table now and Andy finally sees me for what I am.
“I wish you had told me. I wish I had a say and I wish you had let me be a part for your pain.”
“Oh Andrew.” I cupped my hand over my mouth holding back the cry.
“It happened in the dark of night and then you were gone. I found the hospital records some detective had unearthed but it didn’t explain why or how.”
“I am so sorry.”
Andy sat back like my apology was finally the thing to blow him away.
“Sorry because you didn’t tell me that you lost our baby?”
“No. I’m sorry because I wish it had been our baby.”
26
Andy
“What?” I couldn’t register the words she was saying. She’d hidden an accident and a miscarriage from me for ten years. She ran away still my wife and then the mo
st hurtful part she tries to deny our baby’s parentage.
I’m so blown away in my anger that I don’t see her shaking. I didn’t see the pallor of her skin or the way her lips parted in an anguished cry until it’s too late.
I lashed out.
My mind blanked and I spouted things that had been pent up inside me for ten years. I was like a backed up electrical current when the transformer blows. Loud. Messy sparks. Dangerous at first but quickly fizzling to nothing but darkness.
27