Blueberry Pie and Drunk Drivers

“He’s finally coming home today!” I tell Logan, my eight year old son, Juliette, my seven year old daughter, and Miles, my three year old son. 

“Daddy’s coming home?” Logan says, hopeful, “how long will he stay home this time?”

“I don’t know honey, it depends on when his next business trip is. You know that.” I say, and both Miles and Juliette are about to cry, “But you know what? That doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of it! Let’s all work together and make a delicious feast for him tonight!”

Instantly all the frowns in the room turn upside down, as we all love cooking. Especially for Stephan, my dear husband and the father of my children. I grab my keys, and we head to the car. “So what are we going to make tonight?”

“Pie!” 

I laugh, “It seems like we’ve come to an agreement that pie is going to be for dessert. Let’s make a big crispy blueberry pie!”

“Yayyyy!!” my children cheer in the backseat.

“Let’s make a salad too, and a roast turkey! And let’s not forget some mac and cheese!”

“Meatballs!” chimes in Juliette.

“Fried chicken!” adds Logan.

“Moshd Patato!” mumbles Mile.

“Alright! It’s going to be the best dinner ever!” I say, as I pull into the parking lot of the supermarket.

We all jumped out of the car, excited. We go in, and I grab a cart. Miles holds onto the hem of my shirt, while Logan and Juliette run around, looking for the right ingredients. After loading up the cart with everything we could possibly need, we check out and head straight home. 

We start with the turkey. I let Logan try cleaning it, as I preheat the oven. I melt some butter, adding the zest and juice of a lemon and 1 teaspoon of thyme leaves. After it looks nice and melted, I set it aside, and plop a few potatoes in a pot of boiling water. I check on Logan, and I’m surprised that he’s actually done a pretty decent job. I double check to make sure the turkey is ready, and I allow Logan to brush on the butter mixture. I then slightly soak some breadcrumbs in milk, and mix it into some ground meat. I allow Juliette to mix the ground meat, as I take the potatoes out of the boiling water. 

“Me wanna help too!” Miles whines, so I let him mash the potatoes he requested. 

“Mommy, I’m done with the butter!” Logan says, with a giant smile on his face.

“Good job honey!” I put the turkey into the oven. Checking the time, I see that there is almost three hours before Stephan will arrive. Excited, I notice that the turkey will be done right on time. I melt some more butter, add milk, and pour it into Miles’ bowl of mashed potatoes. Pleased, he keeps on mashing. I add some salt and pepper as well. Then I check on Juliette, who has already started to roll the ground meat into balls. I tear a large sheet of baking paper for her. 

“Thanks Mommy!”

“No problem Julie, those meatballs look delish!” 

“Mommy, fried chicken?”

“Of course Logan.” I quickly unpackage the chickens, and I let Logan wash it.

I see that Juliette has almost finished making her meatballs, so I set the tomato sauce at a low simmer in a pan. Then I take the clean chickens from Logan and I cut the two whole chickens into 4 breasts, 4 thighs, 4 legs and 4 wings and I set it aside. I preheat the oil, and in a large bowl, I combine flour, salt, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder and cayenne pepper and I let Logan mix it all together. I then prep the pie dough, and toss blueberries with a mixture of sugar, cornstarch, allspice, cinnamon, salt, and a little lemon zest. 

“Mommy, I finished mixing.”

“Alright Logan,” I pour buttermilk into a bowl, “Just lightly dust the chicken with your flour mixture, then dip them in the buttermilk until they are coated, and then place them in the flour mixture.”

“Okay” Logan gets to work, as I butter up the pie pan, and mold the pie dough in. 

I dump the blueberry mix into the pie dish, and I make a lattice crust. I take the potatoes from Miles, and I make sure he’s done a thorough job, and I place it onto the dining table. Then I dump Juliette’s meatballs into the simmering tomato sauce. 

“Can I stir it?” 

“Of course Julie, just be careful.” I pass her the spoon, as I finish up the lattice crust. 

I pick up Miles, and plop him down into his highchair. I spoon some of the mashed potatoes into a bowl to keep Miles occupied. 

I toss some cheese and butter into a pan. While I wait for it to heat up and melt, I boil some water and toss the macaroni in. I quickly take the turkey out of the oven, as the timer beeps, and plate it. Taking the pie, I place it into the oven, which is already hot, so screw the preheating. 

“Mommy, I’m done coating the chicken!” 

“Nice job!” I say as I make sure that the chicken is thoroughly coated. 

I drop the chicken pieces into the pot with the oil, and set a timer for 15 minutes. 

“We’re almost done guys! And just in time too, Stephan should be arriving soon!” the children cheer, “So how about you guys set the table, and I’ll finish up here?”

“Okay Mommy!” They say, as I remove the chicken from the oil and let it drain.

I prepare the dipping sauces for the fried chicken, and I plate it all together. Then I toss the macaroni into the cheese and plate that too.

“I can take them to the table.” Juliette offers.

“Okay dear, be careful.” I say, patting her on the head.

I plate the meatballs too, and I cut up some lettuce for the salad. I cut tomatoes and cucumbers, then poured in some italian dressing. Throwing in some croutons, I toss the salad. Logan takes the salad and meatballs away, and I check on the pie. It looks like it’ll still need a while, so I go check on the kids. 

Logan is giving Miles some more mashed potatoes, and Juliette is arranging the cutlery.

“How in the world are my children so lovely!” I gush, as I embrace them all. 

“Because our parents are the loveliest!!” They say in unison. 

I blush and I honestly don’t think I could be any happier. Now if only Stephen will get here. My phone dings, and I see a message from Stephen. 

I’ll be home in fifteen minutes! Can’t wait to see you all!

“Daddy says he’ll be home in fifteen minutes!” cheers Juliette. 

I pick up my phone and text back, The kids can’t wait! We’ve prepared an entire feast for you! <3

~~~

Half an hour later, I start to worry. Logan and Juliette are playing cards as Miles munches on mashed potatoes. They don’t seem to think anything’s off, but I can’t help but worry when Stephen is this late. I check my messages again. I know he’s super against texting while driving, but if his car breaks down or something, he would tell me, right?

Suddenly the phone rings, and Logan gets to it first. 

“Mommy, it’s for you.” he says.

“Thanks honey.” I force a smile as I take the phone. 

“Hello?” I say as I put the phone to my ear.

What I hear next has my blood running cold, and my hands tremble. I put down the receiver weakly as I turn to break the news to my kids.

“What’s wrong Mommy?” asks Juliette.

“Daddy won’t be here for dinner.” I say, trying to keep my tears from falling.

“Then we’ll make breakfast for Daddy,” Logan says, ever the optimist, “Let’s make blueberry pancakes!”

“Pancakes!” cheers Miles.

“No, Daddy won’t be coming home ever again.”

“What do you mean?” Juliette asks.

Logan’s eyes widen, realizing the implications.

“Daddy was in a car crash. He died on impact. He was hit by a drunk driver.” the words rush out of me.

The smiles fade from my children’s faces, and I wonder how I’m going to support my family. I lead my children to the dining table, and we force ourselves to eat the feast. It has the feeling of a last meal, as none of us will be able to cook happily for a while.

After we finish, I tuck the kids into bed, and I tell them that it will be okay. That we will be okay. But I don’t even believe in myself. I feel so numb. So done. 

I lie in bed, thinking about the future. I might have a law degree, but I have no working experience. I make a mental note of all the nearby law firms, and I know I won’t have any time to grieve. I’ll also need to hire a babysitter for my kids, but how am I going to pay for it? 

When I finally fall asleep, I have nightmare after nightmare, waking up over and over, only to fall asleep again soon after. 

Logan and Juliette come into my room at eight in the morning. 

“Mommy, is Daddy really gone forever?”

“Yes baby, but don’t worry, he’s in a better place now. Okay?”

“Okay Mommy.”

“So what do you guys want to eat? Sunday mornings are usually french toast and egg mornings right?”

“Yeah.” Logan sighs. 

They head to the kitchen, while I wake up Miles. 

The next week passes in a blur. Between the funeral, job hunting, and taking care of my kids, I feel like I'm drowning. 

After two months, I sold the house. I can’t afford to keep it. My kids cried over losing the house, but I have no choice. 

After three months of part time jobs, I finally got hired into a law firm, and I joined MADD as a spokesperson. Although I do my best to take care of my children and help raise awareness against drunk driving, I know that nothing will change the fact that Stephen is dead, and that I can’t take his place in my children’s hearts. 

Three years after his death, it still feels surreal. We never did get back on our feet after his death. My kids are growing up wonderfully, but they’re withdrawn. They don’t talk much, and I know that I’m not doing a good enough job for them. His death has caused them to mature early. They’re too understanding sometimes. I wish they would throw a tantrum, to be kids. But they haven’t. Not since I sold the house.

I drove to the law firm, hoping that I could get another raise or something. Anything that will make my children’s life easier. Suddenly I notice a car that’s going too fast and swerving wildly. Confused, I stayed still for a second too long.

~~~

Mom is doing her best. I know that. We all know that. But after Dad’s death, we only laid more pressure on her. But it’s mother’s day today, and we’re going to surprise her with a little celebration we made with the help of some nice teachers from school. We made homemade chocolate, and, with some help, we made a blueberry pie like the one Mom made on the day Dad died.

“Logan! Do you think Mom will be happy?” Juliette asks, with a smile I thought died along with Dad.

“She definitely will.” I say, confidently.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. The three of us rush to the door, wondering who it could be. I get there first, and there’s a policeman outside.

“Hi, is there something wrong?” I ask, as my blood turns to ice.

“Are you the children of Lydia Meringue?” he asks.

“Yes, that's us. Is something wrong?”

“Mrs. Meringue died earlier when a drunk driver crashed into her.”

And our world came crashing down on us. Again.