Fire & Water (47 page)

In the sequestered halls of a residential psychiatric hospital, Aaron Bloom had become Jake’s father.

“Jake knew you loved him,” I said.

Aaron Bloom pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his nose. “Missing out on so much of my son’s life will be my biggest regret.”

“Jake didn’t believe in regret. Just be glad you came together.” A sudden impulse made me lunge forward to hug him. At first, the father felt as his son had—tender, open, vulnerable. Then his body stiffened and he pulled himself away. He looked around the bar with its holiday decorations and the crowds of milling loved ones.

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider my offer to get you a house. I’d like you and Ryan to have a home.”

“No. Thank you. Taking care of the debt is more than I could ever hope for. And arranging for the boat today. It was a blessing to have privacy.”

“Jake and I enjoyed a few lovely outings on boats when he was small. I don’t suppose he remembered. I thought that—” Suddenly the stately man stopped speaking. His face crumpled a bit and he pulled his handkerchief across his lips. “You’re sure you won’t reconsider. About the house?”

“Thank you, no. I rented a nice little bungalow between here and the hospital, just a few blocks from Mary K and Andra’s place. I want a place that I can manage on my own. We’ll move in after the New Year.”

He scanned the surroundings. Murphy’s Pub, with its twinkle lights and jukebox, its scuffed floors and sagging couches. His lips curved ever so slightly upward. “This reminds me a lot of a watering hole my friends and I frequented in our college days. I can see why you wouldn’t want to be far from it and your family and friends. Ryan is a fortunate girl.”

Over Aaron Bloom’s shoulder I spotted Ryan sitting across from Tully at the family table, a Shirley Temple with a half-dozen cherries in front of her and her fingers entwined with a strand of string. She held her perfectly formed Cat’s Cradle out to Tully, who fumbled until the string was in knots. Alice untangled the mess while Dad snickered into his sleeve. Tully put his hands up in surrender.

“Yes,” I said. “I think Ryan should grow up with lots of family around.”

“I’ll be on my way. I’m glad to have spent a little time with Ryan. She’s as brilliant and as lovely as her mother.”

“I hope she has a chance to get to know her other grandfather.”

“I’d like that. Thank you, Katherine.” He leaned toward me, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. “If you ever need anything—” And then with one smooth movement he stepped away. The door of the pub swung lazily in his wake.

* * *

Burt sat at the family table. He ran his fingers through the condensation on his beer glass. I scooted into the booth across from him.

“First time today I’ve seen you without Ryan clinging onto you.”

He took a sip of his beer. “Oh, I’m not sure she was the one doing the clinging.”

“We haven’t had a minute alone since—”

“No,” he said. “That was a lovely moment. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Even in the midst of the sadness that surrounded us, I felt a small bit of joy rising in my body. “It was lovely.” He sipped his beer again, coating his own mustache with a frosty foam.

I believed that Burt would keep his word. I would not lose his friendship whether more ever developed between us or not. I needed to be on my own for a while, to heal, to help Ryan to heal, and to see what I wanted to become without Jake as a force in my life.

“What now? I mean, for you?”

Burt raked his fingers through his beard. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve been holding on to the tail of Jake’s comet for almost twenty years. I’ve liked building my own artistic muscles again. I’ll still manage the publication part of the business, if you don’t mind. The books and whatnot are still a tidy business and they need minding. You and I are partners in that now, I suppose.”

“We could hire a manager, so you don’t have to—”

“No,” he sighed. “I’d like to see things through. If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” I said. Burt seemed like a humble giant before me: shy and awkward. He tucked in his lips and wrapped his hand around his beer mug. “I’ve been dipping the brush a lot since New York. It’s been a comfort. I’ve decided to get my own studio.”

“In New York? Sydney?”

Burt pushed his beer glass away and looked at me through his eyebrows. “I know Ryan’s got you and her family. But I was wondering if you’d mind if—well, if—I um, I’d like to still be a part of Ryan’s life. My family’s scattered around the globe. Mum’s gone and Dad won’t be long to follow. New York is… unhappy for me now. I’m thinking San Francisco might be a nice place for me. Maybe I could retire my suitcase to the attic for a bit. But perhaps having me around would bring up too many bad memories for you, so I’d understand if—”

My heart tripled in size. “Nothing would make Ryan happier than having you near us.”

Though his eyes were still filled with sadness, Burt’s lips curled into a grin. “Let’s make Ryan happy, shall we?” He sniffed and straightened his broad shoulders while I fought the urge to throw my arms around him.

“Oh!” he blurted, “I nearly forgot. I brought you a little present a while ago, and with all that happened, I just kept forgetting to give it to you. Would it be all right now? I mean—” Burt scanned the room and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“I could use a present,” I said. “Though really, you shouldn’t have—“

He dismissed my hesitation by slipping out of the booth. I could not suppress a smile as I watched the mountain of a man actually scamper to gather a string-handled bag from behind the bar. He returned, sliding into the booth beside me. “I’m not one for fancy wrappings and all. Hope you don’t mind.”

I tilted my head, as if looking at this man from a different angle might tell me more about him. He was uncharacteristically giddy, and I saw in his burly expression the same look of whimsy and bubbly elation I’d seen on Ryan’s face so many times.

“I just can’t imagine,” I said, lifting the bag that felt nearly empty. As I sifted through the newspaper that filled the bag, I finally found my surprise. Pulling it from the bag, I felt my face flush. Safe from within the nest of crumpled newsprint, I pulled a perfect oval, almost as big as my head. Holding my breath, I held the orb gingerly in two palms.

“Don’t worry,” Burt said, smiling. “Ostrich eggs are good and strong.”

The shell seemed made of tempered glass rather than calcium carbonate. Its thick shell was pierced at the bottom end where the contents had been drained, and its slightly golden surface was smooth to the touch and shiny.

“I noticed you have eggs on your mantel,” Burt whispered. “Thought a specimen from Down Under might be a nice addition.”

I pulled the egg to my cheek and felt its smooth surface against my skin. “It’s a perfect addition, Burty. Just perfect.”

* * *

After the guests had left the pub, the ladies from St. Anne’s washed every dish and packaged every leftover. Finally, the gray-haired swarm of them departed.

“Can I ask you a favor?” I asked Mary K. “If Andra wouldn’t mind, would you and Welby come home with Ryan and me tonight? We’re going to say good-bye to the house. Ryan asked if we could have you there with us.”

“You know me. Always good for a slumber party.”

We spent the evening in front of the fireplace in snuggly pajamas, listening to the foghorns. Welby lay on the floor, enjoying lavish petting from the three of us at once. We rocked easily back and forth between laughter and tears. “I’m going to miss my daddy,” Ryan said.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

After she’d wept awhile, Welby licked Ryan’s salty tears and turned her crying into laughter once again.

“So will your new baby be my cousin?” Ryan asked Mary K.

“Not by blood, but sure.”

Ryan scratched Welby’s belly. “Blood doesn’t matter. That isn’t what makes you family.”

I smiled at my wise daughter. “No, baby. It doesn’t really matter much at all.”

Peace washed over me. Ryan was Jake’s daughter, and I could see that she had his quicksilver mind and his eye for beauty. She had his sensitivity and his kindness. But I could see that she also had an ability—even as a child—to put things into perspective; something Jake had never had. In Ryan I could see the best parts of Jake. But I saw Alice’s resilience and my father’s wisdom, Burt’s humor, and Mary K’s love for animals. I was even starting to recognize qualities of my own in her. She was stubborn and willful. She withdrew when she was afraid. I wished I had not passed these qualities on to her. But I could also see a quiet strength—a strength that could easily be underestimated, but which emerged when she needed it most. Perhaps these were qualities I also had. She had inherited a legacy far greater than her genetic code.

Ryan would have scars from all that had happened, but as I watched her cry, then laugh, then cry again, I knew she would not be disabled by her experiences. She would be made stronger by them. And so would I.

Once Ryan and Welby were tucked securely in bed and sleep had pulled them both safely away, I wandered the house while Mary K took a shower. Tully had retrieved Jake’s boxes from the storage unit. Movers would come for it all the day after New Year and take it to our new bungalow on Irving Street, where I could take my time sorting through the items, selecting mementos for Ryan.

The cloud-wrapped moon spilled light through the atrium windows. I found the box labeled “Mahogany Silver Box”
and opened its overlapping flaps. On top sat the box, just as I had placed it. I stroked the smooth wood finish.

As I opened the lid, it let out the softest whine. I paused, not quite sure of what I was seeing. Gone were the charred spoon and the lighter. Gone were the rubber tubing and the crumpled plastic bags. Gone were the syringes. The box had been relined with plush royal blue felt. The only object inside was the parcel I had placed there, rewrapped with rice paper embedded with yellow flower petals.

The day before I’d packed this box, I went to the bank and opened the safe deposit box where I’d stored the collect of pharmaceutical grade narcotics I’d pilfered. I stuffed them into my coat pocket, looking all around me like the thief I’d become. I’d already risked my career by just taking drugs out of the hospital. The next steps would be far riskier.

Surprising myself, I removed the ring Jake had given me. It slipped off my finger more easily than I expected. I pulled an envelope from my purse and tucked the ring inside, placing it into the safe deposit box where it would remain safe. As clear as a movie, I could see myself giving the ring to Ryan for her high school graduation. A future was beginning to form.

With the drugs in my pocket, I drove myself to Ocean Beach. I’d walked that patch of sand countless times growing up, nearly every Sunday morning with my father. I’d fallen in love with Jake there when I’d first laid eyes on the miracles he’d created with ice and stone. Without removing my shoes or rolling up my surgical greens, I waded into the icy water, standing there until my feet and shins were numb. The sickness of my secrecy stared right at me and gnashed its ugly teeth. I imagined myself telling Alice, Dad, and Tully about the drugs in my pocket and my plan to help Jake die. I’d plead my case well.
He’s suffering. Medicine has failed him. Ryan can’t live this way
. Then I imagined telling Mary K and imagined her response.
Have you fucking lost your mine, Murphy?
And how could I ever tell Burt that I had provided his friend—his brother by choice—with the means to take his own life? Worst of all, I imagined facing Ryan when the truth of what I’d done inevitably emerged. Whether she was a child or had become a grown woman by the time she found out, there would be nothing to say to justify what I had done.

I decided right there; Jake had to make his own choices, just as I had made mine.

I pulled the plastic bag of drugs from my pocket and opened it. As I poured the contents of the bag, the morphine compound disappeared into the lead-colored water at my feet. Relief washed over me, confirming the rightness of my choice. My burden was lifted. I couldn’t resist romping, splashing briny water with each dancing step.

When I returned to the house, the photo on Ryan’s bedroom wall that Burt had given me almost audibly called my name. I wrapped the photo that our friend had titled “The Nest” in brown paper and inserted a notecard in a small envelope. Inside I wrote, “I’ll always love you.” It was this parcel that I placed into the mahogany box. I wanted Jake to have one lasting image of the family he’d helped to create.

Opening the rice paper wrapping, I had no idea what I might find. The envelope I’d placed there was gone, replaced with a new one bearing my name in Jake’s unmistakable flourish. I traced the letters of my name with the tip of my finger and imagined Jake’s pen making the strokes.

With my heart pounding, I opened the flap of the envelope.

It said only, “
I loved you more
.”

Author’s Note about
Manic Depression and Bipolar Disorder

This story portrays a character struggling with manic depression, which today is referred to by mental health professionals as Bipolar Disorder (BPD). Many advances have been made in recent decades (after this story would have taken place), both in treatment and medication, which have helped to improve the lives of those who live every day with BPD. Many of those with this condition are able to manage it successfully through a variety of treatments, medications, and healthy living options.