Heavenly (4 page)

hook up. Beyond that.. .the rest of the night slowly came clear to me, as if emerging from a dense fog. Dance. I'd done more

dancing. A dark room. Groping hands. Skin and lips. Veiled faces swished through my memory in gray and black smoke.

With a groan, I sat up. Robotically, I went through the motions of getting dressed for church so I could further my

charade. Mom and Dad rarely asked questions when I walked in step with them through motions of expectation.

Outside my bedroom door rattled the sounds of the shower, Abria screaming as Mom tried to coerce her into wearing

a dress—something she hated because her legs were left bare—and the soft music Mom played from the stereo on Sundays—

her effort at bringing some serenity into the house. I'd suggested we let Abria wear whatever she pleased to church,
that
would add a dose of serenity, but Mom held on to the fragile thread of hope that someday, Abria would finally submit to

wearing something appropriate.

Who cared what the kid wore? She was going. What more could we ask?

Hearing the shower brought my mind to Luke. Had he gotten stoned last night? I'd know soon enough. No red eye, dull,

listless look got past me.

With that, I checked my own hazy reflection. Thank heaven for makeup.

After I dressed, I headed downstairs, holding the banister tight. My head was still a little light, and swam every third

step.

The scent of waffles nearly made me wretch. I avoided the kitchen, plopped down on the couch in the living room and

closed my eyes. Why did I party when I hated myself the next day? I couldn't even remember what had happened last night

except for the crap: heaving, rejecting losers,
being
rejected and watching Britt and Weston take off. I groaned.
You're the
loser.

I heard soft breathing, felt the presence of someone and opened my eyes. Abria stood staring at me.

"Go away," I muttered, curling up on the couch. Sleep. I needed more. Her soft voice sang a nonsensical tune, up and down, all around. Jumbled words. Some made sense, others did not. I often wondered if she thought in such fragments. If she did, it was no wonder she behaved erratically.

"Leave me alone," I said, louder. I needed complete silence to disappear. "Everybody in the car." Dad. I could tell by the nearness of his voice, he was in the hall and no doubt watching me.

I stretched and stood. His discerning gaze held me as he finished tying the knot in his tie. "I didn't hear you come in

last night, Zoe." "I was super quiet." That look
of yeah right
crossed his face. I was dressed and ready to
baaah-baaah
my way to church. What more did he want?

"Abria?" Mom's tone was frantic as usual when my little sister was out of her eyesight. "Where's Abria?"

"In here," Dad and I spoke in unison and I grinned, hoping to break the ice I felt between us, but it didn't. Dad stood, hands on his hips, eyes still searching mine, no hint of humor in his gaze.

Mom appeared, dressed, though disheveled. Her perfect appearance had slowly unraveled. Hair like a skewed broom,

circles under her eyes no amount of concealer could cover and she'd dropped jewelry and accessories because Abria was

fascinated with all things glittery and off limits like earrings and necklaces and belts. She'd rip them off faster than a thief in a jewelry store.

Again, resentment scratched at me. I didn't look long at my mother. It hurt too much seeing her wither before my

eyes.

"Whereś Luke?" Mom glanced around.

"Here." Lukeś bass voice slid down the stairs. I moved in for a closer look at him. He, too, was thrown together, his sandy hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, pants baggy. Yep. The lazy look in his eyes told me he'd gotten high last night. When our

gazes met, I rolled my eyes at him. He gave me a heavy blink.

"Can I drive with you?" Luke asked me.

"Can't we all drive together?" Dad's tone was irritated but I knew why Luke wanted me to drive over: he didn't want Mom and Dad too close, they might get a real good look at him. And his car was still busted.

Dad threw his stare between Luke and me, but dropped the fight. I glanced at the coat tree by the front door, not sure

if I'd hung my purse there last night. When I saw my denim bag, I reached over and grabbed it, digging for my keys.

Abria started running upstairs, so Dad snagged her into his arms.

"Let's go," Mom snapped. "Abria's getting antsy."

Of course.
Let's bow to Abria. All hail Abria, queen of the moment, ruler of our lives.
I let out a loud sigh so Mom and Dad would hear my displeasure, then turned and went out into the bright, sunny Sunday morning.

Winter air nipped at my exposed skin, and I shuddered, wishing I was back in my toasty bed, sleeping.

In the car, Luke leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Man, I'm so tired."

No doubt residual weed in your blood," I smirked. "You wanted me to wive so you could squeeze in as much time to sober up as possible." Luke sniffed. "I wouldn't get too close to them if I was you."

I cupped my hand over my mouth for a whiff of my own breath. Sure enough, the sour stench made my face crinkle.

Luke looked over with a lopsided grin. "Lush." "Okay, so neither one of us is perfect." "Thankfully."

"But I'm not addicted, there's a difference," I said. "I'm not addicted. I smoke socially."

"Yeah," I laughed, "but it becomes addicting when all your friends do the same thing."

"So you're saying Britt and all your friends don't drink?"

"No, they do. But not every time we're together."

"Then they're missing out." He closed his eyes again.

"No. They know when it is and is not appropriate. You and your friends on the other hand only need a lighter and you

light up."

"Because we know how to relax. That's your problem, Z. You're too uptight, even with the booze."

"I am not uptight." Frustration bubbled in my veins. "You don't know anything."

"Whatever."

I flicked on the CD player and raw guitar licks grated the air. So much for Mom's efforts to bring peace to Sundays. I

peered through my rearview mirror, saw Mom and Dad in the car following us and felt anger and guilt collide inside of me.

They'd die if they knew I drank. Die. In their eyes, I was the oldest child and the rock. I was the rock, all right. The rock everybody else climbed all over.
Zoe, do this. Zoе, help with that.

I may have felt distant from them now, but my childhood had been full and lovely, with lots of sunny days and

complete immersion in adoration. Clouds had shadowed our lives only after Abria came onto the scene.

Why did she have to be in our family? This question nipped at me continually, an ugly, itchy rash that never went

away, just moved to another part of me. Countless times I'd been unable to answer the question with what reason resided in

my head, "One of God's mysteries," our Pastor had once murmured—in what he thought was comfort—to my teary-eyed

mother.

Mystery? It doesn't get much more mysterious than a child who doesn't have any sense of danger. A child who eats

poop because it's there. Who can't stand having her hair brushed, or won't wear anything but tight-fitting clothes even in the burning heat of summer. A kid who can't stop mumbling nonsense. Or one who can't speak at all, as some are inclined. Kids

who scream and tantrum for no apparent reason. A child you can't reason with. A kid whose brain is wired to do nothing else

but self stimulate with repetitive behaviors that make them look like loons.

A child who doesn't understand
what I love you
means.

I blinked back tears. Layers of my heart peeled away. I pictured my mother's face and the sorrow she wore because

her baby wouldn't look at her, would never know her name—not Mom, not Debbie—nothing.

And she would never say
I
love you, too.

Church was on the opposite side of the street and I pulled into the center lane, signaled, and waited for traffic to clear

before driving into the packed parking lot. The white building with its steeple reaching heavenward should have brought me

some relief but I only got angrier. Why had God done this to us?

I parked the car into a spot and killed the engine, waking a snoozing Luke who jerked upright then rubbed his hands

down his face.

"We're here." I got out and looked around the lot for Mom and Dad's car. My searching gaze finally caught Dad's

head when he got out of the car a few dozen rows away. Then I heard, "Abria!"

Luke jumped out. I leapt into the empty aisle, eyes wide, looking for Abria who could dart out at any moment, or get

lost in the maze of parked vehicles, or worse, run into the busy boulevard.

"Where is she?" Mom shrieked.

Abria was too small to be visible over the rows of shiny cars. Luke took off one direction, me another. I didn't see where

Mom and Dad went. We were Pavlov's dogs trained to hunt when Abria ran. I bent down and looked underneath the cars,

hoping to see her tiny feet scurrying. Crouched over, I raced along, aware that my dress hiked up in the back. The cool breeze I felt on my underwear told me I was on display, but I could care less.

My back began to ache, so I stood upright and continued my search, glancing back to see that Mom, Dad, and Luke

were on the other side of the parking lot.

My heart pounded. Where was Abria?

I ran to the edge of the lot, the edge that bordered on the busy street, and stood ready to tackle her if she emerged from

the rows of cars. I looked left, then right. Then I saw him. The same guy I'd seen at the park. I'd just looked and not seen

anyone, I was sure of it. Yet there he stood, dressed in similar sherbet-colored clothes I'd seen him in yesterday, his toffee hair a striking contrast against his fair skin and clothing. He had Abria by the hand and she walked calmly alongside him.

Shocked, I couldn't move. I blinked. He was still there, still coming toward me. He smiled. His lips moved, as if he

was talking to Abria, but there were too many cars swooshing by, I couldn't hear what he was saying.

Mom was nowhere to be found. Dad was too far away to hear me, even if I screamed. Luke's sandy head popped up

between cars now and then as he searched. Clearly, I should tell them I'd found Abria. I should ease their fears. But when I

opened my mouth, nothing came.

Within seconds the stranger stood in front of me, smiling down into my eyes, the cool gray of his mesmerizing.

"You..." My voice trailed off. I was taken in by a feeling warm, comforting and safe. The sensation spread out from my heart, filling my arms and legs as if I'd swallowed the sun and now its light pressed through my skin. Moments stretched.

Any fear I'd had about him was gone, evaporated by the reassuring aura radiating from him.

This feeling, this surety had to be my own foolishness. He was a stranger. A stranger I'd seen twice in two days now,

and Dad had always told us that anyone we saw more than twice was following us. Yet, even those thoughts didn't pierce

through the light comfort I was bathed in at the moment. His gaze penetrated, as if he saw straight into my heart. I wanted to shrink even though a voice somewhere inside of me whispered not to be afraid.

"Hello." I'd heard him speak yesterday, but fear had deafened my ears. If lying under a morning sun had a melody, his voice was that melody, a strong incisive tone with the clarity of a fervent prayer. "It seems I found Miss Abria again."

"Yeah, imagine that..." I reached out and took Abria, lifting her onto my hip. She started to cry. Why was she

cooperative with this complete stranger and the minute I picked her up, whining like a baby? "Do you know how worried

Mom is? She's freaking out because you ran off. Bad girl."

A flash of discomfort, like he didn't care for my disciplining tactics, colored his gray-blue eyes.

"Look, I appreciate you finding her—again—but do you have a handicapped brother or sister?"

Abria squealed and wailed. "This is hard for you," he said.

"You have no idea."

His eyes pierced mine before shifting to Abria. "Shh. You're fine now, little Abria." His voice was softer than a

caress. He reached out and his long fingers touched the top other head, lightly fluttering over the silky strands of her hair.

Abria went silent.

"Fine now," she said. Clear. Concise. Perfect.

I stared at her. She'd never said more than one coherent word at a time. And she'd just spoken—coherently—to this

stranger. She'd used two words. Yes, she'd repeated what he'd said, kids with autism were known to do that, but she'd never

repeated more than one word. And she'd calmed the instant he'd touched her. I can't believe… she's never done that before. I

can't believe she spoke to you. Abria rested her head on my shoulder. "Who are you and how did you do that? Why do I keep seeing you everywhere?"

"My name is Matthias." He kept his hands in the front pockets of his slacks, his gaze on Abria, a slight smile on his lips. Full lips, I noticed for the first time. A great mouth. Unnerved at my reaction, I took a step back. Then I heard the frantic cries from my mother, and I looked out over the parking lot.

"She's here." I turned and waved until Mom, Dad and Luke saw me and started in our direction. When I turned back

to face the stranger, he was gone.

I whirled around. Looked north. East. Out into traffic. Back into the parking lot. He'd vanished as quickly as he'd

appeared. The warmth I'd sampled in his presence was gone now, and I shuddered from the cool air. I clutched Abria close,

took her face in my fingers and asked, "What happened? Who is that guy? Talk to me."

I started toward Mom, whose face was contorted in terror. Her arms reached; as if by sheer will she could suck Abria