“Arthur, no, I mean, no, no, Claire no!”
“Julia, honey, it’s okay. Julia? Wake up Penn, come on.”
“What, uh, what, where? Phil?”
“Julia, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
“Where am I?”
“My house Poppy.”
Julia gasped. “Oh fucking Christ! Oh shit, no! It’s, oh my God, it’s not a dream, it’s fucking real, oh Jesus Christ!”
Julia struggled, but Phil sat beside her, having heard her in the middle of a nightmare. “Julia, oh Poppy, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”
“What happened Phil, I mean, how’d I get here?”
She lay on JJ’s bed, and Phil sighed. “They gave you a tranquilizer before we left the hospital.”
“Oh Christ! They had to fucking knock me out?”
“Well, not quite knock you out. You were conscious when we left, but everybody felt it would be better if you slept here.”
“Didn’t wanna freak out the kids I assume.”
“Something like that.”
“Where’s Crystal?”
“At your place.”
“And Liz, Diane, Mom?”
“Wayne was gonna take them back to San Jose.”
“Mom too?”
“Lee too.”
Julia sobbed, then sat up, gazing at the ceiling where fluorescent stars and crescents glowed. Then she stared at the wall beside her; a large collage of all the kids was interspersed with cut-outs from various Disney movies. Julia fingered a photo of JJ and Abe, then she pulled her knees to her chest. “How in the fuck are we gonna tell them?”
“It’s not gonna be anytime soon.”
She glared at Phil. “He’s a, a… He’s dying, and they need to know the truth.”
“Honey, Abe doesn’t even understand that you’re not his real mother. God Julia, think about it.”
She didn’t want to think about anything. Instead she stared at her son and Phil’s daughter. “I always wanted them to get married.”
Phil didn’t say a word.
“I mean the kids.” She laughed. “Oh God, who am I kidding? He’s a murderer Phil, my father is exactly what Arthur and Claire said he was all these years.”
The room was silent. Julia sniffled, wishing she could take back her words, not because they were untrue, but this was JJ’s room and it wasn’t right to spread such malicious… Not lies, no it wasn’t a lie anymore, but JJ was only eight, too young to even assimilate by allusion such evil. Then Julia laughed. She had been that young when her grandparents had started their litany.
“Oh my God, that’s the worst Phil.” She chuckled, stretching over the twin mattress. “Not that my dad killed, her, I mean, that’s pretty goddamned bad, but it’s what, coming on forty years ago.” She paused, then stared at the ceiling again. “She died forty years ago Phil. I never knew her because she died.” Julia looked at Phil. “But it wasn’t an accident.”
He nodded.
“Nope, Dad killed her, whatdya know?” She laughed. “They did, old Arthur and Claire, stupid motherfuckers.”
“By luck Julia. They didn’t really know.”
“Luck?”
“They chose one side of the argument. Turns out it was correct, but they had no idea at the time.”
“Oh well, yeah, you’re right. Yup, just luck that they happened to assume my dad was a cold-blooded murderer, yeah Phil, just a fucking lucky guess.”
She wished he would slap her. Instead Phil stroked her temples. “I’m sorry Poppy. I am so, so sorry.”
“Me too,” she sighed. “Happy fucking new year to me.”
She didn’t want to stay at Phil’s, as she couldn’t go back to sleep. Phil drove them, in Liz’s car, over the Bay Bridge, which was quiet in the early hours of 2002. Reaching Julia’s apartment, Phil parked on the street, walking hand in hand with a shaky but alert woman. When they reached her door, she dropped her keys. Phil let them inside, and over the sound of snoring children, she began to tremble. Phil held her close, leading her into the kitchen.
It was clean, probably Crystal’s doing, Phil imagined. Maybe she had roped all the kids into helping, JJ and Ingie already learning how to load and run a dishwasher. But Phil didn’t want his daughters to know about Grandpa Chuck for a long time. Phil noted the louder sounds of boys, then he felt a sharp pain. Sometimes men did awful things, not very often were women the aggressors. Usually they were the victims: Jo-Jo and Sunshine and… Laura, which made Phil swallow hard as Julia poured herself some water. Julia and Helen too, but men also ended up in agony, Stan and Daniel and Phil himself. And Larry Jerrold, but that name turned Phil’s stomach. Phil knew exactly why Chuck had confessed, but knowing why didn’t ease Phil’s mind, and probably wouldn’t do a thing to appease Julia.
Phil had never considered Claire and Arthur’s diatribes anything but tormented revenge. Julia had suffered irrevocably for her grandparents’ inability to set aside their anger and pain, yet, they had been correct. Phil wished for a Pepsi, craving that metallic sweetness, the caffeine, the bubbles. “Penn, you got any pop?”
She stared at him, her broken face allowing the crack of a smile. “Gideon, it’s fucking four o’clock in the morning.”
“I know. I’ll get to the dentist later today.” He opened the fridge, finding containers of dips, a plate of sliced cheeses and deli meat under plastic wrap. In the back, hidden behind a bag of baby carrots and broccoli, sat four cans out of a six-pack. Julia kept Pepsis for Phil, even when he said he was off the stuff, but other than the enamel on his teeth to suffer, it was a harmless habit. Phil reached for one, felt the cold hit his hand not like that of a gun, the way Sunshine had gone out. Chuck had hired someone to kill his wife. A cop knew better than to get directly involved.
Phil set the can on the counter, staring at it. How many Pepsis had he consumed in his lifetime, and on how many days had Chuck considered his actions? Had he felt them when his two and a half year old cried for her mother? What about when, only months later, Lee gave birth to their daughter? Had Chuck sensed any latent remorse when Diane was born or when Julia arrived back in Oakland after a summer spent with those braying for Chuck’s scalp? They wanted him strung from a tree, wanted him dead. Instead for the last several years he had lingered with bad lungs and a weak heart while Julia was picked apart. Phil stared at her as she gazed into the room. What did she see?
He thought of her baby made with Ray, one that Ray still knew nothing about. She had never told him about the abortion, endured because Claire and Arthur had been right. They had been, after all this time. Forty years ago Laura Riley was killed along a Chicago street, but not by accident. It had been premeditated, and at that moment Phil didn’t care about Chuck’s reasons. As Julia was taken to a cubicle and given a tranquilizer, Wayne had told Phil that Chuck had feared losing his daughter. Laura knew all about Lee and the coming baby, and was going to divorce Chuck and take Julia far away. If Laura would have followed through was moot; at the time, thirty-two-year-old Chuck Penn faced losing one daughter while nearly the father of another. Phil gazed back at the soda, condensation forming. Chuck made his decision, took his chances, and for forty years, no one suspected a thing.
Phil didn’t consider Arthur and Claire; as he’d told Julia, they had merely been lucky. Phil had been blessed on September eleventh. Was it the same sort of providence, had Arthur and Claire heard a voice, or only the constant thump of their furious hearts? Phil knew why he hadn’t flown on a day synonymous with death and malice, but the day Laura died wasn’t any different than the one to follow. For four decades, that was all anyone with a reasonable mind accepted. The reason Laura was killed wasn’t any different than the reason for those planes crashing into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, a field in Pennsylvania. Only evil, sometimes a little bigger and more problematic than at other moments.
But Phil didn’t think of Chuck as a bad man. He was a sick man, physically. He had been desperate in 1962, what with Lee pregnant and Laura thre
atening to flee with Julia. If Phil took Wayne’s words for fact, what Chuck said now, on his deathbed, then Phil winced. Larry Jerrold had made a similar statement in his last moments, causing great disturbance within Phil. Larry and Chuck had wanted to ease their consciences, but what about the pain they stirred in others? The hijackers assumed they were doing the work of their God, and now over three thousand were dead, New York a shambles. All for what, Phil wondered, looking at Julia’s vacant face. What did it all mean?
“What Phil? You look a million miles away.”
“Julia, I, I…” He embraced her. “I love you. My dad, your mom, what the fuck?”
She smiled, grazing her fingers along his temples. “No shit Gideon. What the fuck indeed.”
“Hey, what’re you guys doing here?”
Phil turned as Ray entered the room. “Oh honey, oh Ray!” Julia scooted around Phil, falling into her boyfriend’s arms.
“She, uh, woke up, wanted to come home.” Phil watched as she seemed to dissolve against the man she had loved and battled, similar to the relationship she shared with her father.
Ray nodded at Phil as Julia wept in hushed waves. Phil stood behind her, kissing the back of her head.
“Crystal’s in the guest room,” Ray murmured.
“Thanks. I’ll see you guys in a few hours.”
Julia nodded, then burrowed into Ray’s chest.
Phil tousled her hair, then looked at the counter. The Pepsi waited, but Phil didn’t care if he ever drank another. He wandered through the living room, Marisa and Jude on the sofa, the rest in the tent. Phil took the second door on the right, hearing only his wife’s breathing. He stripped to his boxers, then slipped under the covers. By the time Ray led Julia to their room, Phil was ready to climax as Crystal gripped his back.
For three days the tent remained in Julia’s living room. The kids didn’t know what had occurred, but the news was out to others. Ray had to change their home phone number as Claire had called repeatedly, but Julia couldn’t speak to her grandparents, saying that she never wanted to talk to them again. Once the number had been altered, Arthur started calling Phil’s house. It did the old man little good, for Phil, Crystal, and their girls were bunking in San Francisco. Twice Phil had gone to see Chuck, but both times he was unconscious. Phil hadn’t been certain what he might say to Julia’s father, had been relieved words weren’t necessary. Yet he spoke to Lee daily; Julia had needed her mother’s presence, her sisters too. Tom and Edie visited as well, as if to squeeze out the one Julia couldn’t face. She wasn’t sure she would ever visit her dad again.
She was hoping Chuck would just die, had said as much to Ray and Phil, and implied it to the rest. Abe and Jude thought it was odd that Poppy wasn’t at the hospital, and Ray explained that sometimes it was hard to watch someone die. Abe retorted that they had been with Grandma Helen, not that Abe recalled that day, but the stories were known. Yet Julia couldn’t address her son’s concerns.
“Come on kids, let’s get our coats and go for a walk.” Crystal ushered the children from the apartment, Wayne and Diane alongside. As they left, Phil kissed his wife, then hugged Diane. Julia’s youngest sister responded with a grip that Phil felt all through him. While the sisters had always been close, one small detail had always remained. Now Laura Riley seemed as cumbersome as crumbled buildings, no one sure what to do with her.
They couldn’t just ignore this, Phil allowed, and had found agreement with his wife and Ray. There would be no trial or jail time, one lone police officer posted outside Chuck’s hospital room. Chuck would die with his secret revealed, maybe offering himself small peace. Phil was slightly pissed at him; Chuck had known the damage caused by Larry Jerrold’s confession, and not just to Phil. Again the anguish was crushing, and gazing at Julia’s gaunt face, Phil knew it was killing her. He approached her, and she stumbled into his grasp, but she didn’t cry. She felt to weigh no more than a feather. A feather would knock her over, but Phil gripped her with all his strength, and she giggled.
“Gonna squeeze it outta me Gideon?”
“What Penn?”
“All the life. Not much left these days.”
He released her. “Julia, I love you.”
“I know. Only you, Ray, and my sons are keeping me going.”
What scared him was the truth in her voice. She wanted to die, to not recall hearing her sister’s words, that Chuck had made a confession. The last thing Julia had ever wanted to face was the possibility that Claire and Arthur might be right. Phil wasn’t sure what hurt her more, that disturbing fact or Chuck’s actual deed.
She probably didn’t know either and Phil kissed her cheek. “Honey, you need to eat something. You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell. Phil, you know what I feel like?”
He wanted to say yes, for he had known that devastation when finding Sunshine’s remains, had felt it in hearing Larry Jerrold’s words. Maybe he had witnessed it at the age of twelve when Jo-Jo died, or even as a baby when his father’s voice no longer made an impression. Phil knew exactly how awful Julia felt, but he only stood as she spoke.
“I feel like all my life’s been a lie, all I ever knew is shit. I thought my dad was a good guy. He’s a killer. I thought Arthur and Claire were nuts. They were right. I thought my family was my mom, my sisters, my father. My family was a woman who my father had killed. Phil, everything’s fucked.”
“I’m your family, Ray, Abe, and Jude are too and we’re right here Poppy.”
She inhaled. “Phil, you’re some guy I met at a bus station. And I’m not their mother. I’m their father’s girlfriend. Hell, we’re nothing to Jude, you think about that? Not one single thing.”
Phil didn’t get angry with her, but unlike how Crystal had forced him to get over the reality of Stan’s murder, Phil couldn’t threaten to withhold sex until Julia dealt with this. He wanted to smile; his wife had been pretty crafty. But with Julia, Phil’s hands were tied.
Yet, her tone felt like a slap, not that she was disdainful or bitchy. She was empty, and Phil sighed. “Julia, you’re absolutely right. All those things are true. I’m no more than some guy who wanted to pick you up in an LA Greyhound station. Abe’s not yours, Jude’s not yours or Ray’s. I can’t offer one shred of evidence to dispute those truths.”
“Oh Phil, shit. Don’t sound so pathetic.”
He hadn’t felt pitiful, just exhausted. Julia and Ray’s guest bed was all right, but Phil hadn’t slept well since New Year’s Eve, not even with all the sex he and Crystal were having. He wanted to go home, wanted this to be over. But like those left behind on September eleventh, or the way Phil had been haunted by Sunshine’s death, he knew this wouldn’t be over for ages.
Would he always feel so wiped out? Would Julia? He stared at her. “Baby, I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, tired. Shit Phil, I could sleep for a fucking week and not feel any different.”
She wanted to sleep forever; if left alone, she might try something, why no one had left her alone since Monday night. Julia had only been allowed to shower unimpeded, but sometimes Marisa managed to intrude, and Crystal and Phil had allowed it. Marisa liked to shower with her mother, saw no difference showering with Abe and Jude’s mother. “Julia, you know why Marisa likes to shower with you?”
“Because she’s a little lesbian?”
Phil smiled. “Because she likes to shower with her mama, and you’re Abe’s mama, no difference.”
Julia started to cry. “Fuck you Gideon.”
“You think you’re nothing, you think this has reduced you to crap, to caca.” Phil used that word around his girls now that poop seemed tied to babies and shit was profane. “You’re just a big pile of caca and no one loves you, no one needs you, but you know that’s not true.”
“I wrote that book for him Phil, I wrote my novel for him! What am I supposed to do with it now?”
He nodded. “I know you did, and I know exactly what it feels like to have one’s lifeblood thr
own right back in your face.”
The failure of his second record still rankled when he thought about it, but Julia stamped her foot. “So what Phil, you got an answer for every single one of my goddamn failings? Sunshine, Stan, wanting to jump off a goddamn bridge, well, whoop-dee-do Phil, aren’t you some fucking saint!”
She stepped away from him. “Yup, old Saint Philip, patron of those left behind and those fucked over. If it’s not a coke-head girlfriend shooting herself, it’s some old bastard coming back announcing Daddy didn’t actually put a bullet in his brain.” She applauded with vigor. “Good for you Gideon, making it through so many fires. Hell, you should’ve died on September eleventh, and you even managed to get outta that one. God Phil, what’s it gonna take to put you into the ground, huh? Something happening to Crystal or the girls or…”
He slapped her, but was so angry he could have punched her out cold. “Julia, stop it.”
She rubbed her face, then as if her words reverberated in the room, she began to choke. “Oh Jesus Phil, oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Phil, I’m so sorry!”
He opened his arms, but she hesitated. “I know you are Poppy. Julia, I love you, and I accept your apology.”
“Why?” she asked, not coming toward him.
“Because right now you really are screwed up. But Penn, only this once. Only today, here, with everyone gone. Now, come here Julia.”
“You won’t slap me again, will you?”
He shook his head. “Only if you start spouting bullshit. Otherwise, no, I won’t slap you again.”
On trembling legs she moved his way. When she reached him, it was as if she fell endless steps, but Phil held her and didn’t let go.
That evening Chuck suffered a heart attack. He was put on life support and his wife, two youngest daughters, and their partners were told he probably wouldn’t regain consciousness. A police officer still guarded the door, but the family didn’t care. Once Lee gave the word, tubes would be removed and Chuck would probably die within the hour. Lee was ready to do that, but unspoken was her last request. Phil agreed with her, even Ray felt it necessary, but Julia couldn’t go to her father’s bedside.
She wouldn’t, Phil felt, out of some small manner to appease her mother’s spirit, but certainly not because she felt beholden to Claire and Arthur. Phil had been home when yet another call from Florida came through. That time Phil picked up, sitting through two minutes of Claire’s thin but smug voice. Then Arthur got on the line, repeating verbatim his wife’s tirade. Phil told them to fuck off, then he hung up. He waited five minutes, then left. The phone rang as he locked his front door.
Crystal was all right with changing their number, what Phil would do as soon as this was over, which meant Chuck’s life. Then Phil would attend to errands, but he wasn’t expecting Julia to be a lot better. He gave her the name of his Berkeley shrink, told her that man probably knew a few good docs in San Francisco. And that if she wouldn’t go for herself, she needed to arrange a session for future days when her sons would learn who Poppy was, who Aurora was. And who their Grandma Laura had been, if Julia truly felt like putting all the cards on the table. Phil didn’t care in the short term. Between the sisters it had been decided that none of the boys were to be told about Grandpa Chuck’s past, Phil and Crystal in agreement about their daughters. For the first time since the reversal, Phil was having second thoughts about wanting a boy. Maybe girls were easier, or at least he knew how to parent them. His daughters were upset with Grandpa Chuck’s impending demise, but four small men were devastated their ringleader was nearly gone.
None of the kids had seen him, as Chuck’s appearance was alarming. It was the tubes keeping him alive, also the way the adults now regarded him, an upholder of the law who had killed someone. He had killed his wife, or had her killed, but it was the same damn thing, Tom Sullivan had said. Crystal’s parents felt Chuck’s final years of poor health were hell enough; Julia had overheard that conversation, reminding Phil’s in-laws that the years had been rough, also full of seven small children, three of them Tom and Edie’s own grandchildren, descendants providing Chuck with a very good run as a grandfather. That had been said out of the kids’ earshot, but all had asked Poppy why she wasn’t with her daddy.
“I mean,” JJ spoke on behalf of the group, “don’t you wanna be with him now?”
“It hurts honey,” Julia had replied. “Like that week your dad was in New York after The Towers fell.”
JJ had nodded, then sat near Julia on the sofa. “But Aunt Julia, Grandpa’s your daddy. Don’t you wanna kiss him goodbye?”
Phil replayed that conversation while observing his daughter help Julia in the kitchen. Julia might not clean as she cooked, but Crystal did, and was teaching JJ to do the same. Every dish that Julia dirtied was collected by JJ, her small hands nimble and learned. Phil stood silently in the doorway until JJ saw him. “Daddy, how long have you been there?”
“Long enough to make sure you didn’t miss anything.”
JJ ran to Phil, and he caught her, a small but lively child who still looked so much like him. Phil had just started teaching her to play guitar; maybe one day he would play alongside his daughter, maybe she would strum Stan’s songs. “Run along, let me have a minute with Poppy.”
“Okay Daddy.” JJ’s kiss landed right on Phil’s temple, which Julia saw. He watched her go slack-jawed as JJ jumped to the ground.
Phil stepped Julia’s way, grasping her hands that were covered in flour. She had been taking out her aggressions on a helpless lump of bread dough that now looked smooth. “Does it need to rise?”
She nodded. “An hour, probably more like two. One day she’ll know about Stan; I wonder if she’ll still kiss you there.”
“I hope she does. They’re not gonna be little forever.”
“She will,” Julia laughed, washing her hands. She dried them, then plopped the dough into a large bowl. Turning the lump until all sides were coated with oil, she set the cloth just used over the top.
“Aren’t you gonna get a new one?” Phil retrieved a clean dishcloth and replaced the used one. “God Penn, that you keep out the roaches amazes. You used to keep my house pretty damn clean. What happened?”
Children complained in the living room as Ray dismantled the tent. “Phil, I’d say something, but the kids might hear.”
“They might see the roaches one of these days too.”
“Gonna be worse before it gets better.”
He grimaced. “Julia, I’ll go with you. He can’t say anything, shit, he can’t even breathe on his own.”
“I can’t Phil. Please don’t ask me.”
He sighed. “Julia, I love you. I don’t wanna see you…”
“Don’t say that either Gideon, I mean it!”
Other words floated in his head, phrases she had clobbered him with after Sunshine died. Not right after she shot herself, but later, after Daniel’s death, and after Phil had drowned his sorrows, then picked up crabs, in Mexico. After he had managed to crawl back north and find the Bay Area again, Julia had lobbed some pretty vicious curveballs right along Phil’s brain. He had never wished to throw them back at her, felt obscene even considering it. Yet, payback was often most unkind. “Julia, don’t be an asshole.”
She glared at him while trying to get out of the kitchen, but he blocked the doorway. Then he closed the door.
“Phil, get outta the way.”
“I mean it Julia. I hear the weather’s fine in Florida.”
“Fuck you.”
“I talked to them, well, I was blasted by them, gotta change our number too.”
“Don’t bother giving it to me.”
He laughed. “Honey, I’m not asking you to forgive him, not like you asked of me.”
“You said you were gonna hurt me if I didn’t leave Phil. You remember that?”
He nodded, then felt guilty for slapping her. “Yeah, I’m sorry Penn.”
She sniffed. “But you did hurt me Phil, you hit me jus
t the other night. And now you’re holding a gun to my head.”
“Julia, don’t even say that!”
“It’s true. You’re standing here, telling me I have to go see him, even though he killed my mother. He fucking hired some goon to run her over. And if I don’t go see him, then I’m no better than Mr. and Mrs. Dickwad on the East Coast.”
“They’re assholes Julia, your words honey.”
“No Phil, I think that was your word for them.”
“Yours I believe.”
“Yours Phil, fuck! What fucking difference does it make? He’s gonna die, big fucking deal! He’ll be dead, they’ll be happy, I’ll be miserable, what’s new?”
She drummed her fingers on the counter, sounds that to Phil were like shots being fired, his father killed over and over in Phil’s dreams, Sunshine taking their baby with her, planes slamming into buildings, into the ground, bodies falling apart. “Julia, what about Lee?”
“What about her?”
“You think about her much since New Year’s?”
She shook, then straightened her body so stiffly that Phil ached. The arch of Julia’s neck went so far back, as if she could pop off her head.
“Lee’s trying to keep a brave face,” Phil said. “How do you think she feels?”
“Like shit, he’s fucked all of us over.”
“But right now she’s alone.”
“My sisters and Wayne and Adam are all there. Tom and Edie are probably there too.”
“But not you Julia. You’re Lee’s daughter too.”
He expected silence, but she exploded. “Fuck you Phil! What, gonna throw any goddamned brick you think’ll hurt me? Lee, yeah, my mom. I’ve got two of them, one was killed by my dad and the other…”
“Is being hurt by you. Lee loves you, and you’re spitting right in her face.”
He predicted she would yell again, but instead she gripped the counter, turning her knuckles white. Phil stepped her way, wasn’t sure if that was wise. She might belt him, but he wouldn’t argue. She owed him one.
“Penn, hey Poppy, talk to me.”
She didn’t seem to be breathing and Phil eased his hand over hers. She was freezing, and he laid his palm over her icy fingers.
“Julia, honey?”
“Phil, I love her. She’s the only mother I ever had.”
“I know Poppy. I know.”
She stared at the counter. “I told her about my abortion. She said she totally understood.”
“Oh honey.”
Julia met his gaze. “When I was little, before I learned about Laura and realized she was my real mom…” Then Julia laughed. “My real mom, Christ! That’s what I need a shrink for, my real mom. At first I had the hardest time understanding what Claire and Arthur told me because my mom was alive, you know, Lee wasn’t dead. How do you tell a kid who their parent is, real, pretend, dead, alive, what does that mean?”
Releasing the counter, Julia let Phil hold her hand. “My mom, my mom. My mom…” She sighed. “Mom, Lee, Laura, whoever! Phil, I’m sorry if it hurts her that I’m not there. I know this had nothing to do with her, she had no part in this. I don’t blame her, I just…”
“Hate him. You hate him, and you’re…”
“Don’t call me an asshole, Phil.”
He smiled. “You’re trying to not get sucked under again. I wasn’t gonna call you an asshole.”
She looked at him. “So you understand, but you still want me to go over there. Even though I’ll get sucked under again.”
“I don’t think you will get sucked under if you go over there. If you stay here, you will.”
“What?”
Phil stood as close to her as possible without taking her against him. “Poppy, you’re the same kind of mother to Abe and Jude as Lee is to you. Not their biological mom, but the mom who wipes noses and holds puke bowls and all that crap. Aurora means nothing to them, just like that cigar box really meant nothing to you. They made you think she was those pendants and broaches and little pieces of her life. But her life has never been a part of you except in a hurtful, sick way. They used her to try to separate you from your parents, from Lee just as much as your dad. When you threw that box away, you finished your book Penn. Now maybe that book will end up in a drawer or stuck under a couch, but you did it, you wrote it. And I know it hurts now, I know it does Julia. I know it does.”
He held her as she sobbed.
“Baby, it’s gonna hurt for a long time. I still hurt after I met Crystal, I mean, she took away so much pain, but we didn’t get pregnant for over two years; I couldn’t face that and even when she was pregnant with JJ, it was still hard. It’s gonna be hard for a long time Penn, no saying it’s not. But it’s not just hard for you. It’s hard on Lee, on Liz and Diane. And one day, yeah, it’s gonna suck for the kids. They’re all gonna have a field day with this one, shit! But we’ll get through it, we will. I’m here today Penn, I changed that flight. I let this hippie chick talk me outta jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. I don’t know where God figures into this with your dad, we may never know. But I know where he is with your mom, with Lee. God’s standing there, keeping your seat warm. Chuck doesn’t need you, this isn’t about him. It’s about Lee, your mom. All this time it’s been about your real mother.”
Slowly Phil backed away. Julia gazed at her fingers as if she held that cigar box. Then she gripped her hands together, turning them outward, cracking her knuckles. The sound pierced, and the din outside the door halted. Phil stared at her as she wrapped her arms around herself.
A timid knock landed on the kitchen door. “Daddy, Aunt Julia, you guys okay?”
“Yeah Ingie. How’s the tent?”
“It’s down. Flynn and I want it back up again.”
“No, time for it to be put away.”
“O-kay. Are you coming out soon?”
Julia nodded.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Phil said. “I love you Ingie.”
“I love you Daddy. I love you Aunt Julia.”
“I love you Ingrid,” Julia whispered. Then she approached Phil. “When Crystal was pregnant with her, I watched you. Crystal noticed it too, that you could be a part of that pregnancy.” Julia sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be a part of anything again.”
“If you don’t try, you’ll never know.”
She nodded, then looked at the bowl on the counter. The cloth over it lay flat. “If you take me over there, what about that?”
“I think Crystal can manage it. Be good for the kids to watch it rise, let them do something with it. Maybe they can make little bread rolls or something.”
Julia weakly gripped his hand. “Okay Gideon, but you have to promise me something.”
“Anything Penn.”
“If he dies there, you won’t make me kiss him. I can’t do that Phil, I can’t.”
“Honey, you can kiss me instead.”
She smiled, then leaned against his shoulder. “You’re weird Phil.”
“Yup, I certainly am.”
As Phil led Julia from the elevator, Adam and Wayne stood outside Chuck’s door. Adam approached them. “He’s gone, we just tried to call you.”
Phil nodded as Julia cleared her throat. “Are they with him?”
“Yeah, it was literally a minute ago.”
“Did he ever regain consciousness?” Phil asked.
“No, he never did.”
Only then did Phil realize the police officer was gone. He wanted to ask about that, but would do it later. Phil wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Julia had missed her father’s actual passing, but she seemed eased, and they followed Adam to the door.
Wayne opened his arms and Julia was enveloped. Phil motioned to those men, then entered the room.
Lee held her husband’s hand, sitting on his right. Chuck’s daughters were on his left, and Phil was in their arms as they stood. Liz wept, but Diane was stoic, how they had often been since New Year’s Eve. “Is she, did she…” Liz mumbled.
“She’s right outside, Wayne’s got her.”
Diane nodded, then went to her mother, squeezing Lee’s thin shoulders. Phil headed that way. He didn’t want Lee to stand and he pulled up a chair. “You okay?”
She nodded. “How is she?”
“Time Lee, it’s gonna take time.”
She looked at her husband. To Phil, Chuck didn’t appear dead; he looked the same as the last time Phil saw him, like an apparition. Maybe some peace had been found, but Phil wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was only deep within Chuck that relief was noted.
“Phil, I never knew. I never even assumed…”
She had already said these words and Phil clasped her free hand. She still held Chuck’s and Phil kissed her cheek. “It’s over Lee, all over.”
She stared at him. “Is it?”
“Can you go out there? I don’t think she can come in here.”
Lee nodded, but looked back at her husband. Phil wouldn’t rush her, just as he wouldn’t press Julia.
“Mom, I’m going out now.”
“Okay Liz.”
Diane had left after Phil sat down, and as Liz exited the room, Phil felt a chill. He had found Sunshine, held Daniel, sat near Helen, but this was different, and Phil wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because none of those people were connected to Julia, but this man had killed someone to assure Julia’s presence in his life. He had lived harboring that secret, then died with it revealed, even if it meant severing his daughter. She hadn’t been here at his last moment, and Phil wasn’t sure if she could even see him now.
“Lee, I’m gonna go check on her. Take your time and…”
The door opened, Julia clutching Adam’s arm. “Mom?”
“Honey?”
Mother and daughter stared at each other as Julia deliberately avoided her father.
Phil stood, then Adam led Julia to Phil. She didn’t want to sit, but Lee stood, and Phil gathered their hands, wondering just how did Lee first meet Julia? Was it after Laura was dead, probably Phil thought, watching them clutch each other’s fingers.
“Oh Mom, I’m so, so…”
“Oh honey, I love you!”
Phil wiped away tears. Then he glanced at Adam, who did the same. Then Phil looked at the women; Julia was wrapped in Lee’s arms.
Adam left with no words. Phil wished to go, preferring this reunion to occur just between family. He was Julia’s family, but Lee was her mother, the only parent Julia had left.
“Wait Phil,” Lee’s voice cracked.
“Yeah?”
She gestured to him, and he didn’t hesitate, enfolded in an embrace as if Lee Penn was his mother too. She was their mother, even if other women had given birth to both Julia and Phil. He didn’t shed any more tears as Julia wept. Phil steadied both women, offering a small shield as Chuck Penn lay not three feet away.
In their bed that night, Crystal and Phil rested with their three daughters, the first time in 2002 all were at their own house. Marisa fell asleep in Phil’s arms, and after he put her to bed, Ingie and JJ uttered small protests that were soon silenced by the comfort of their beds.
Now with just his wife, Phil breathed a gentle, sated peace, wondering how Julia would be in the morning. She hadn’t stayed in that room long, but she had looked at her father, even held his hand. No words had emerged, but Phil imagined those would be ages in coming, or maybe she would write about it, if only in her journal. Phil had bought her a new one three years ago, and only now was she using it, time in coming for many things.
“Baby, you ready for bed?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah. Gonna check the house.”
“Okay.”
He put on his robe, then rattled the doorknobs, all secure. He grabbed his cell phone from the coffee table, would keep it by the bed. The house phone had been unplugged as Arthur and Claire hadn’t gotten the hint. Phil would arrange a new phone number tomorrow.
He considered calling Julia, then shook his head. There was so much to say, where to start? Phil peeked into his daughters’ rooms, heard steady, quiet breathing. Three little girls, and Phil smiled.
He closed his own door, but Crystal wasn’t in bed. The bathroom light shone, and he set the phone on his nightstand, then took off his robe. He was laying down when she spoke. “Phil, c’mere a minute.”
“What?”
“Just come here please.”
He padded to the door; she was clad in a nightshirt, brushing her teeth. “Uh, what?”
“Come in here, okay?”
“What honey? You want me to floss or something?”
She giggled; the sound was beautiful, and Phil leaned over, kissing her neck.
“Phil, I can’t tell you and Julia’s not here. There’s something for you on the toilet seat.”
“What?”
“Just look Phil, jeez! Don’t be an asshole.”
He stared at the seat; the lid was down, a small plastic Ziploc bag lying on top of it. Inside that bag was a stick similar to what Phil had seen with each of Crystal’s previous pregnancies. Julia had introduced it first, but for Ingie and Marisa, Crystal had done the honors. “Oh my God!”
Crystal spat into the sink, then rinsed the remaining toothpaste. Then she ran the brush under water, drying her hands on the towel. “Phil, guess what?”
He stared at her, his heart racing. “What?”
She giggled. “I think you’re working again.”
He picked up the bag. “It’s blue Crystal. Two blue lines.”
“Yeah Phil, two blue lines. I love you honey.”
He held it in front of his face as if it was one of Laura’s perfect treasures. Then Phil laughed; if Crystal ever had a keepsake box, it would be full of pregnancy test sticks, carefully sealed in Ziploc bags.
“Go call her Phil. I know it’ll make her day.”
He nodded, but before leaving, he set the bag back on the lid, then kissed his wife. “You taste like…”
“Not milk and cranberry sauce.”
“No,” he laughed, kissing her again. “Minty fresh.”
“Call her Phil, then we can go to bed.”
“Right.” He walked to his nightstand, grabbed his phone, hitting Julia’s cell phone number as he hadn’t yet programmed her new home number. Easier this way, Phil smiled. She never answered her cell, hated the thing. It rang, then her voicemail picked up as Crystal traced her fingers along his back, then around to his chest. Phil grew hard as he began to speak. “Hey Penn, I, uh, God Crystal, stop that! Hey, uh, some good news. The, uh, reversal? Well, it seems to have worked. Crystal’s in the Ziploc sandwich bag sort of way. So yeah Penn, Poppy, Aunt Julia, I’ll, uh, we’ll all be talking with you tomorrow. Sleep well!”
“Hey Phil, Phil! Stupid fucking Floridians, making you unplug the goddamn phone, pick up your cell Gideon, you hear me? I know what you’re doing, probably humping her in the laundry room, but if you know what’s good for you Phil, Phil? Phil, answer the goddamn phone!”
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