Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [103]
The earth is dry and fairly light and they make good progress.
“I have to rake it out now and then seed it.”
She hands Caleb her shovel. Mr. Grover takes out his handkerchief and mops his brow.
“You did the right thing, Alice Bliss,” Caleb says.
She tries to smile at him as she returns his shirt.
“Anybody tell you that you need to be extra careful these next few weeks?”
“No.”
“The body gets accident prone.”
“Really?”
“You ask people. Ask people who have lost someone whether they were in a little car crash or a little bike accident or took a fall.”
“You want to come back to the house, Caleb?”
“No, thank you, that wouldn’t be right, I didn’t know your father.”
“All right then. Thanks again.”
Alice heads up the rise to the dirt road leading out of the cemetery with Henry and his father. The digging has tired them all. Alice thinks it’s good to be tired in her body.
The Grovers’ ancient Honda is the only car still parked on the verge. It hadn’t occurred to Alice to be worried about a ride home. Now she realizes that Henry and his father were patiently waiting for her after everyone else had left.
Mr. Grover tosses their shovels into the trunk. Henry and his dad don’t interrogate her like her family would. Henry just opens the door to the front seat for her. But she surprises him and slips into the backseat, where she leans back and rests her head against the upholstery. Just like Travis Boyd, she thinks.
She closes her eyes for a moment before turning in her seat to look back at the road winding behind them, at the green bowl of this section of the graveyard, at the newly turned earth over her father’s grave, at Caleb, raking the ground, preparing it for seed. They keep leaving Matt behind, she thinks, in each of these places; they reenact leaving him, over and over until finally they will realize that he has left them and gone where they cannot follow.
There are cars parked in their driveway and all along the street. The backyard almost looks festive and the workshop, which Uncle Eddie set up as the bar, looks like they’re having a party. At least anyone old enough to drink is having a party.
One table is stacked high with Mrs. Piantowski’s bread and tubs of butter. Other folding tables are nearly groaning under the weight of casseroles and fruit salads, green salads, Jell-O molds, and condiments. Cakes, cookies, pies, and brownies are on the dining room table inside along with two jumbo coffeemakers from church.
Alice walks slowly through the house, taking it all in, the groups of people talking and eating and drinking. Some of them are even laughing. Everyone is here, she thinks, everyone that’s left from their life. Were they all sitting behind her in the church and riding behind their car to the cemetery? Her principal, Mr. Fisher; the school secretary, Mrs. Bradley; B.D., her coach; Mrs. Baker, Ellie’s teacher; Mr. Herlihy, the high school janitor; Sally and Ginny from The Bird Sisters; the Hoyts and the Holschers; and even Stephie and her parents. Mrs. Minty is sitting at a picnic table with John Kimball and his father and his little brother, Joey. And Melissa Johnson. Janna and her mom are sitting with Ellie, and oh my gosh that’s Luke Piacci, the third-grade heartthrob, Ellie must be going out of her mind.
Alice keeps walking, looking for her mom, maybe, or maybe not. She makes one more tour of the house and there, sitting on the stairs, where she did not think to look before, is her mom, a Styrofoam cup of coffee abandoned on the step beside her. She is looking down at her hands and does not notice Alice. She is twisting her wedding ring on her finger, round and around.
“Mom . . . ?” Alice ventures.
Angie looks up, wipes her face with the back of her hand.
“I can’t . . . ,” she begins. “I should be out there, talking to people . . .”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“I just . . . I was on my way upstairs, and . . .”
She looks so lost, Alice thinks.
“That’s when I knew . . .” she says. “That’s when I really knew.”
“I’ll get Lillian,” Alice offers.
“Just stay for a minute,” Angie says, pulling