Late One Night

“Tony, wake up.” Dad stood by the bunkbed peering at me. I had the top bunk since I was the oldest and got to choose. Who wouldn’t choose the top bunk. Any self-respecting fifteen-year-old would always choose the top bunk. I pushed myself up and pushed my long black hair back away from my sweaty face. If you lived in Michigan, August meant hot and humid weather both day and night. My brown eyes were misty with sleep, and I blinked them several times to clear the fog. I was thin then, skinny and long limbed. I also hadn’t come into my girlish figure yet, which was a few years away, and coupled with my tomboy attitude, caused the kids in my new school to look at me as if I were a foreigner in their land of mini-skirts and fringed vests. Not that I didn’t own those I just chose not to wear them to school, preferring jeans and t-shirts.

I looked down at my dad because his voice sounded strange. Was I in trouble again? I never agreed with him, mostly because I was a rebellious teenager and thought I knew everything. He had grown up in a home with severe discipline and brought that into our family as well.

He stood in front of our bed, my sister Kate sleeping deeply on the lower bunk. He spoke in a whisper and held a finger up to his lips telling me to move quietly so I wouldn’t wake Kate. Did I do something wrong? Was I getting punished? I just never knew with my dad.

The night was hot. In the 70’s there was no central air conditioning, and fans did nothing more than move hot air around in a stuffy room. There were two windows in our room, the large one on the front wall facing the front yard, and the small one looking out on the driveway, and a neighbor’s house, each dressed in fringed curtains. We didn’t have a fan in either window because my parents could only afford two; one in the living room and one in their upstairs bedroom. I guess they needed it more since it was stifling up there in the late summer. Some nights my sisters, brother and I camped out in the living room in front of the fan just to cool down. Mom and dad didn’t like it, and we always got yelled at but we figured better that then be hot and sweaty.

“What?” I was groggy. That time when you feel like you’ve only been asleep a short time and wonder why you’re awake. My mind was trying to deal with the reality that my dad was standing in my room shushing me.

“Something’s happened and Mom and I need to go out for a bit. Mrs. Fortman next door is going to keep an eye on the house, but I need you up and watching your brother and sisters.”

This was big. Babysit in the middle of the night? What was going on? And Mrs. Fortman? She was the neighbor on the other side of our house across from the side yard with a door we never used and after many years of disuse was unopenable. She was a nice woman who had two kids of her own. Her sons were my brother’s constant companions and sometimes they would let me play war with them with their sets of plastic army soldiers. Those times building trenches, and hills in the dirt behind our garage are some of my happiest memories.

“Get up and get dressed.” He said softly as slipped through the darkness and out the door.

I climbed down the ladder onto the carpeted floor. The room wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either. There was enough room for the bunkbeds on the side wall, a dresser overflowing with laundry ready to go into drawers and two small school desks for homework. I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a blue tank top. I brushed my straight black hair and tied it into a ponytail. I met Dad in the living room and Mom was sitting on the couch in front of the big bay window. The front door stood open, and the side window was open where a fan blew in hot, humid air. The tv was off, which was unusual, as it was on constantly unless mom was home, and dad was at work. She didn’t want the noise until her stories came on, then it was all of us, except my brother, sitting in front of the tv watching General Hospital where Luke and Laura were having another fight.

“What’s going on Mom?” Her eyes were red and puffy, and I could see faint shadows of mascara on her cheeks as if she’d attempted to wipe it away. Only a cleansing would get rid of it, but she must be in such a hurry that she neglected her appearance, which was not like her. She was normally pulled together with her short hair styled in a puff of curls held in place by a lot of Aquanet, and her make up applied in just the right amount, nothing too overwhelming. Her hands moved restlessly in her lap as if she were trying to hold a moving shadow. She was wearing a pair of light pants and a sleeveless blouse that billowed from the fan in the side window. The room wasn’t large, but it held our family well enough. When we first moved into this house a year ago it had seemed so small and foreign. We still lived in Fremont just one street up. I had grown up in our old house and still didn’t understand why we needed to move into this smaller home. Mom and dad said something about our old neighborhood being unsafe, but we were only a block away so how did moving somehow remove the threat.

The street we lived on was closer to the catholic school but now that both Kate and I were in high school it was a longer walk down a busy street to the public school. Mom had drilled it into us to stay on the sidewalk and cross when the light was red. In the winter, if she had time before she started work at the hospital, she would drive us but other times we made the long walk no matter the weather.

“We can’t explain it right now honey. We’re in a hurry. We’ll tell you what we can when we get home.”

“When are you coming home?” I wasn’t scared of being alone in the house. I had been on my own a few times since I would babysit for short periods of time when I was ten, but this felt different. They were holding something big and important back and I wanted to know what was going on. At fifteen I thought of myself as an adult. Standing in the living room now I felt like a kid whose parents didn’t trust her to keep her mouth shut.

“I don’t know yet.” Mom looked up at Dad who stood behind me. His breath seemed loud, and he kept swallowing over and over making gulping sounds. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I flinched. I wanted to ask again but the message was clear…keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

“Let’s go. The family will be there by now” Dad said.

Mom stood, kissed my cheek, then she and Dad were gone. I stood on the small front porch and watched the headlights from the Buick recede down the driveway, and up to the main road. The big main road. The one we weren’t allowed to cross even though there was a 7-Eleven with lots of candy enticing to all the kids in the tree lined, suburban neighborhood where all the houses looked the same. They also had Slurpees which were a frozen treat we got when we’d all been good. We didn’t get one all the time—because with five kids there were always arguments about who got to control the tv, or which of us had pulled the roses from Mom’s bush in the backyard. When dad came home all of that stopped. He was in charge of the tv, and all wrongs done throughout the day were dealt with by a spanking or being sent to your room without supper.

Our dog, Kizzy, sat at my side wagging her tail and leaning against my leg. I leaned down and stroked her soft head feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. She was always there when you needed her. A couple years ago we’d visited my grandma and grandpa’s farm and their dog had had puppies. We all wanted one so badly and begged my mom who gave in eventually. I think she just wanted to shut us up. The day before we’d watched the movie “Kismet” on the Rita Bell Prize movie and so we named our puppy Kismet, Kizzy for short. Dad hadn’t been too happy, but he loved mom, and she loved dogs, so Kismet stayed. She was a great dog.

I heard a voice call my name. I turned my head to see Mrs. Fortman standing on her front porch. She was about my parent’s age, which made her ancient, but she was nice and always had fresh baked cookies and lemonade on hot summer days. She was a medium height round woman, with dark kinky hair down to her shoulders, and olive skin. I never thought to ask her about her ancestry it just wasn’t necessary. She was nice, gave us treats and that was that.

“Do you want some iced tea, Tony?”

I hesitated for a minute then remembered how great her tea tasted. I jumped down off our porch, walked across the lawn and took the glass she held out. I took a long drink and felt the ice cubes pump against my top lip. I was so hot, and the liquid cooled my throat and my body as I struggled to breath in the humid air.

“Come on, let’s sit down for a bit” Mrs. Fortman said.

I sat on the green banded lawn chair next to her on the small porch. Two trees guarded the house and during the day provided shade. Her grass was lush and green even with the trees. In contrast our yard had two big maple trees that sucked the nutrients from the soil leaving our yard more dirt than grass. We talked about a lot of things. Summer vacation, my impending sixteenth birthday in September, my upcoming junior year, getting my driver’s license, all the while avoiding the subject of my parent’s departure. Hours went by, my siblings slept on blissfully unknowing of the event taking place on that August night. The night cooled a little bit or maybe it was the glass after glass of iced tea. I asked her if she knew where my parents went and why they’d left in the middle of the night. I thought they would be back before sunrise at least. She shook her head “it’s not my story to tell.” That was all she said on the subject and filled my glass with more iced tea. I felt as if the adults in my life were conspiring against me, and I didn’t care for the feeling of being left out. I dealt with that every day in school and the one place I thought I was accepted was home with my family. But tonight proved me wrong.

The dark sky began lightening, and turning a pale red. I saw the headlights first then the familiar Buick. I stood on Mrs. Fortman’s porch, a little wired from all the caffeine, and watched as my dad emerged from the car. Mom stood on the passenger side, her head bowed, and her shoulder’s slumped as if in a sorrow so deep her body was too heavy to hold her up.

I hopped down off Mrs. Forman’s porch and walked hesitantly across the front yard. My dad looked at me and I saw sorrow. The same sorrow I’d seen the night he’d hit me. But this wasn’t the same in some way. It was bigger. Mom moved to stand beside him and took his hand in hers.

“Let’s go in the house Tony” he said.

“Tell me Dad.” I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew what was going on. I didn’t fear him in that moment. I felt sorry for him. I may not like him very much, but I also loved him in my own way and didn’t want to see him hurting. We stood in the half light of dawn with a subtle breeze starting to move its way through the trees. I heard the birds waking up and getting ready to forage food for another day.

“Tell her Mike” Mom said.

Dad stood for a moment, head bowed, hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He was a tall man, six feet, with long thin legs and a small pot belly starting. His hair was black like mine, and he usually kept it short and in place with Brylcream. Tonight, it stood out on the sides and bangs rested on his forehead as if even his hair had given over to the grief.

“Tony, your Aunt DeeDee is gone. She passed away tonight.” Dad’s voice seemed to quaver at the words, and his eyes were a tired red. His whole body seemed defeated.

I didn’t understand. No one I knew had died before. I knew about death I just had never experienced anyone I knew dying. My Aunt DeeDee. She was the one I liked. All my dad’s other sisters were mean and gossiped about everything but mostly my dad. His family had grown up in the projects and mom had grown up on a farm, had attended a catholic boarding school, and lived in a house with nice furniture and combination music room and library. Mom had asked dad, when he came home from the Navy, if he wanted to go to work in the screw factory like his dad or do something more with his life. He chose the latter and worked his way up in a credit union so now he was the manager. Dad’s family thought he had abandoned them to live in a fancy house with his stuck-up wife. Aunt DeeDee never spoke badly about my dad, and she was the only one, besides my uncle, he got along with. She was kind, pretty with blonde hair always curly from a Tony home perm and she was generous. At my Aunt Renee’s wedding she had given me her bridesmaid bouquet. I could still smell the yellow baby roses. I loved her. She was the only aunt or uncle in my dad’s family I could love. And now she was gone.

“What happened? Did she get sick?”

“No. It was something else.” Dad turned toward mom and she nodded twice and turned her eyes to mine.

“Tell her. She’s old enough to understand and she’ll hear about it from the family. Better it come from you.”

Dad took a deep breath, let it out, and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Tony, your aunt committed suicide.”

Suicide! That wasn’t right. She wouldn’t do something like that. I looked up at Dad, and his brown eyes were full of unshed tears. I felt deflated. Of all the things I thought they’d been keeping from me, this was bigger. It was huge. It settled into the pit of my stomach and my heart pounded.

“But, why” I whispered.

“She was very sick, cancer, and she couldn’t face what was coming. So, she...” Here he faltered. I wanted to know everything. I needed to know everything.

“She shot herself with your Uncle Sid’s gun in the basement.” The tears fell now leaving streams of salty water crashing down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and onto his shirt. I had never seen him cry. Not ever. But now I saw a brother who’d lost a sister in the most senseless way. I grabbed him around the waist and let my own tears flow. I was lost in my dad’s grief, and he held me tight. I felt my mom’s warm body cover my back as we all stood together on that hot August dawn mourning the loss of someone who had been a shining star in our family. I felt my tears stop and took a deep shuddering breath. I don’t know how long we stood together. The memory is faint. But I remember that night as the moment my whole view of life shifted. The little world I had built around me swelled to massive proportions, and it was filled with the reality of death and despair. I would never understand how she could have left my uncle and their kids in such a horrendous way. A gun. The most brutal way for someone to take their life. She must have been driven by such an overwhelming sadness that she saw no way out. Even that was wrong. I may have only been fifteen, but I knew things changed. My life with dad sucked but I would grow older, leave home in a couple years, and never be hit again. I wondered why Aunt DeeDee hadn’t seen a way out. Was she so lost she didn’t see the light? Didn’t she know there was always a light, you just had to look for it.