“And spit on people’s heads?” We laugh. It’s sort of an inside joke between us. Apparently I did that

when I was four, and it had Mom in stitches. I wish I could remember. But all the memories I have of

myself at that age are faded and vague. That was before she became an alcoholic. She’s been sober for

many years now, but the illness has left her bitterly marked. Sometimes I wish I could have known her

when my father was still alive. And I often wish I could have known my dad. But all I have are a couple

of bad photographs. Mom says that even though I hadn’t been born yet when we lost him, he loved me.

He picked my name. So I always carry a part of him with me. That’s a nice thought.

“And afterwards, we’ll have so much candy we’ll be sick”, she smiles.

“Ugh. If we really must.”

“Oh, we do. Life’s so short, sweetie. It all goes by so quickly. Promise me you’ll always make the

most of it.”

I get an uneasy feeling, hearing her talk like that. “Mom, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, my darling. Speak to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sleep tight.”

“Sweet dreams, Jimmy.”

“Bye, Mom.”

I hang up with a strange feeling. She sounded so lonely that it’s breaking my heart. It’s making me

want to hop on the next train to go see her right now. I’d be down there all the time if train fares weren’t

expensive and I notoriously broke. But I console myself with knowing that I’ll see her in only two days.

She may talk about going to the fair now, but I know it’ll be a struggle to get her to leave the house. She

almost never does anymore.

* * *

When I get out of my late class the next day and turn my cell phone back on, I have a voice mail from

Terry, Mom’s social worker. It says to call her immediately, and something about the sound of her voice

has my pulse rate up in a microsecond. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Is Mom okay? Has something

happened? Is she in hospital again? Wild thoughts are spinning in my head. My stomach turns into a

lump of sheer panic. Terry picks up her phone, and her voice sounds even stranger than before.

“I’m so sorry, James”, she starts. And I know.

My knees give way, and leaning against the nearest wall is all I can do not to fall. But I’m still

falling inwardly, down, down, down into the bottomless.

“No… it can’t be…”

“James, listen to me. It was an accident. The police are still investigating, but everything looks like

she fell asleep smoking, and a fire broke out. I don’t think she suffered. She probably suffocated in her

sleep.”

I can’t say anything. I dig my free hand into the rough brick wall, trying to keep breathing. The

world turns into a blur. Terry keeps talking, but I don’t understand a word she’s saying. I think I’m

supposed to come down as soon as possible to arrange for the funeral and everything. I think she says

she’ll help me, but I’m not sure. All I know, all I feel is that Mom is gone.

It rips out my soul, and a feeling of panic sets in. It can’t be true. No, it can’t be. She can’t be gone.

Not now. Not like this. I was going to see her tomorrow. This can’t be real. My brain refuses to

acknowledge it. But my heart reacts with a pain so fierce it momentarily blocks out everything else. It

feels like being stabbed, the knife twisting in the wound, brutally, mercilessly. Terry keeps on talking,

asking if there’s anything she can do. I’m too frozen in agony to reply. I still hold the phone in my hand

long after Terry’s hung up, and I let myself slide to the ground, staring into nothingness. Flicking the

same old switch that protects me from feeling. Sinking into numbness, disconnected. Breathe.

I’m not sure for how long I sit painfully crouched like that, motionless and unblinking until Anna

happens to find me. I’m unable to react to her at first, her words sounding so distant, strangely

concerned. Eventually my eyes regain focus, and I see the shocked, scared look in her eyes.

“James, please say something.”

I swallow, and suddenly a teardrop rolls down my cheek, the wetness rousing me. Anna pulls me

close and takes me into her care.

Chapter 11

Ashes To Ashes

DANNY: Keller is the one who tells me that Mrs. Foley has passed away. I don’t believe him at first.

Then he describes what he knows of the fire. Apparently the entire house burned down. They weren’t

able to save much of it. I’m too shocked to really respond, but he gives me the details of the funeral

tomorrow. I’m not sure why he does it. I just walk away.

I walk around aimlessly for a while as the news sinks in, and I still can’t quite believe that it’s true.

That she’s really gone. I remember our last talk vividly. I had stopped by James’ house last summer after

having left a couple of messages over the phone. Mrs. Foley answered the door and assured me with an

all too familiar smile that James really had gone out and she didn’t know when he’d be back. I was

about to leave again, frustrated, when she invited me in for coffee. We’d only met once before, but I

liked her enough to say yes. To be honest, I kinda jumped at the chance to maybe learn a bit more about

J from her. And she seemed to like to talk about him. She was doing well that day, and we sat down in

her kitchen, had a nice smoke and strong coffee, and she continued the motherly inspection of me she

had begun last time. She had me tell her my major, and asked about my plans after college.

“I’m not sure,” I replied with a nonchalant smile. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

She eyed me over her blue coffee mug. “But aren’t you graduating next spring?”

“That’s the plan.”

“That plan won’t really get you anywhere if you don’t know what to do with your life afterwards,

will it?”

“Guess so.”

She shook her head with an amused smile. “Well, what kind of actor do you want to be? Do you

want to go into theatre? Movies?”

I took a drag on my cigarette to buy time. It was all I could do not to squirm under her gaze. This

didn’t exactly go as planned. “I might not do either”, I finally admitted, deciding to go with the truth for

once. “I mostly went into acting because it wasn’t what either of my parents wanted for me.”

“That’s a very strange reason. What did they want for you?”

“My mother sees me as an attorney, and my dad… he would really like for me to go into music.”

She studied my face with a slight frown that reminded me of James. “I suspect you could be good at

either if you applied yourself.”

I grimaced. “Now you sound like one of them.”

She smiled fleetingly. “All parents are the same in wanting what’s best for their children.”

“Not mine, trust me. What they want for me is what would suit them best.”

“Then it seems like high time to make up your own mind, doesn’t it?” she smiled kindly.

I smiled back and looked away, knowing she was right. I wished I had someone like her in my life. I

probably would have decided years ago.

“My Jimmy wants to be a journalist. I think he will make a great editor one day.”

“Has that always been his dream?”

“Since second grade.”

“Really? How come?” I was curious. I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a pilot when I was that age. As

you do.

“My first husband was a journalist,” she revealed. “Jimmy never really knew what that job entailed,

but then we watched a documentary on Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein one night, and Jimmy was

glued to the TV. He was always exceptionally mature for his age. Even when he was very little, he

would walk around with those big knowing eyes, asking questions even us grown-ups couldn’t answer.”