Something About Sundays

The doorbell jolts Dana from a deep sleep. 8:37am. Sunday mornings, right? One of two days off. Must be Amazon, who else? What now, Tom? More phone chargers? Socket sets? If it’s more pellets for the grill she’s going to lose it. The package isn’t hers, she quit ordering all of that stuff when she decided she was going to retire early.

She stretches, smiles. Retirement. What a wonderful word. That’s not a four-letter word. She chuckles. Tom doesn’t want her to, but her dad had gotten the girls pre-paid college tuition through College Illinois years ago, battabing battaboom.

Janey just started her senior year at University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, and Kenzie her sophomore year at SIU-Edwardsville. So, most of the money she and Tom had saved all of those years for the girls’ education was still pretty much intact. Vacations, cruises, beach houses, all of it finally within reach. If Kenzie will just stick to the plan.

Dana turns over, pounding her pillow into submission. Deep breaths will also help the transition back to sleep. The doorbell cuts through the silence for the second time. Her eyes spring open. Twice? Did Tom order something he needs to sign for?

“Tom. Tom!” She pushes him, waking him. “There’s someone at the door.” 

Her husband begrudgingly pushes back the covers, slips from the bed and trudges out the bedroom door, leaving it slightly open. 

Dana turns her back to it, facing the wall and window. She can remember a time when the mail and packages didn’t arrive on Sundays. Sundays were a day of rest. Maybe you went to church. Or slept in. Dana is looking forward to every day being like Sunday. 

She wasn’t going to retire, not initially. But Kenzie… Kenzie has some ideas of her own that are threatening Dana’s plans.

Sleep is eluding her. She is drawn to thoughts of her daughters, different as night and day. It’s as though the sun and a storm cloud are living under the same roof. One bright and warm, the other cold, dark and miserable. 

Dana snorts. And now this business about transferring mid-semester to an out-of-state community college to be with a boy Kenzie met while watching a track meet? No more bang-for-your-buck with the pre-paid college tuition by going to that school. Out-of-state doesn’t count. Dana would have to cash in the program benefits for face-value, which wouldn’t begin to cover a degree. An argument for another day. Actually, for last night. A pretty bad one, as it were, ending with Kenzie screaming hateful things. Par for the course.

Dana sighs. At least the house is almost paid off. A charming three bedroom, two bath ranch on a quiet, tree-lined suburban street. Just under two years and it belongs to them free and clear. 

 Would it matter if Kenzie was in school for seven more years, farting around with whatever kid she decides to follow next? Dana grunts, rolls her eyes.

She glances at the clock. Signing for a package seems to be taking Tom a little longer than necessary. She sits up, listening. Murmurs of a conversation… what kind of conversation is needed for Amazon? Come to think of it, when was the last time she signed anything for them?

Dana slips out of bed and walks to the bedroom’s door, listening. Tom’s just outside the front door, murmuring to someone, but it doesn’t sound like it’s about packages. He agrees to something, turning to pull the door shut, leaving the house quiet. 

Dana stands behind her bedroom door. The girls would normally still be at school; she and Tom had moved them in just over a week ago. Both had wanted to come home this past weekend, and because they had been allowed the luxury of taking their cars to school this year, Tom had let them drive back. Dana closes the door and turns the lock. Click.

She finds the previous night’s loungewear discarded on the floor, and quickly throws it on. She pads over to the window to see what Tom is doing with the delivery guy. More packages on the truck to be unloaded? How many items does one man need?

As she raises the blinds, she stumbles back, hastily lowering them again. This time she peers through a single slit. Rather than a delivery van, there is a police cruiser at the curb, and Tom is talking to uniformed officers in the middle of the yard.

Dana’s head begins to spin. Her girls. Was there an accident? Had to be, that explains the police. She looks back out the window to the driveway. Neither of the girls’ cars is there. She looks back to Tom, his head down, arms crossed tight.

 She walks across the room and sits on her bed, clutching the sides. Her phone. She’ll call the girls. What daughter won’t pick up? 

Her eyes dart frantically around the room. Where is her phone!… Left on the kitchen counter? On the living room coffee table? Dammit. She’s always leaving her phone somewhere.

Maybe she should just go outside. Maybe it’s nothing? 

Dana peers out of the blinds again. This time Tom has his arms locked over his head, and the officer has his hand on Tom’s back. Steadying him? Dana finds it hard to tell.

She moves from the window and checks the bedroom door making sure it is locked before going to the bathroom and locking that door as well.

Something is very wrong. Tom’s body language seems somewhat clear. 

It suddenly occurs to her, there’s no urgency. Tom’s not turning and running to the house, telling her to get dressed and grab her purse. He isn’t rushing her to the hospital to see their daughter. No emergency means…

No. No no.

What was the last thing she told Kenzie last night? They were fighting. They always fight. She is so headstrong. Always has to have her way; never willing to take advice from anyone. No compromise whatsoever. 

And now this unruly business with the track boy. The boy that was different from all the other boys she’d ever met. The boy that was the real deal. 

Dana stands shivering, trembling with teeth chattering, holding the side of the vanity. Is she cold or… 

Nope. No. 

Reaching for the toothpaste, Dana allows her mind to drop into autopilot. She begins to brush her teeth.

Muffled knocking on the bedroom door startles Dana out of her stupor. She stands paralyzed until it subsides. Tears stream down her face.

She thinks how she loved being a new mother when the girls were young. She smiles briefly then her face clouds. As toddlers their personalities split, and so did her love. 

Janey was remarkable; bright, happy, caring - a mother’s dream. Kenzie was a nightmare; bull-headed and inflexible from early on.

A louder knock on the bedroom door, somewhat forceful, slightly demanding.

Ok, ok…

Dana yells, “Coming,” but doesn’t. Muffled talking. She turns on the water. “Can’t hear you. Brushing my teeth. Be right out.”

Tom doesn’t know she’s seen the police. He doesn’t know she knows.

She emerges from the bathroom, quietly in case he’s listening. She goes to the window, peeks out. Deep breaths. Her chest hurts. 

Tom has walked back out, still in the t-shirt and flannels he wore to bed. He did slip on his Sperrys at some point. He’s talking with the police, walking toward the cruiser. 

Is it safe to come out?

Which girl has been lost?

She stares at the driveway. Neither car, neither girl. Either girl could be the one who is gone. So which one is it? WHICH ONE?

Nope. Nope. 

Dana can’t go there yet. Janey is her rock, her foundation. She can’t lose Janey. Please don’t let it be Janey.

Dana’s eyes lock on a picture from a distant Halloween sitting on her dresser. Janey in a butterfly costume, laughing and waving her wand. Kenzie stuffed into a ladybug outfit, back arched and screaming. We don’t say bad baby, we say busy baby. Dana called Kenzie much worse than bad baby, just not to her face.

Janey was her dream child. Never had to remind Janey to say please or thank you. Never saw Janey without a smile. Never saw Kenzie with one. A beautiful painting next to a stubborn stain. Please don’t let it be Janey.

Dana looks out the window; Tom is by the cruiser at the curb. After getting dressed Dana goes to the kitchen to make coffee. Autopilot engaged. She starts to get the dishes out of the dishwasher and realizes Kenzie did not start it the night before. Anger radiates within her as she slams the dishwasher door shut. 

Dana walks back over to the window, peering out, trying to get a read on Tom’s body language. He is still talking somberly to the police officer, shaking his head. What in the world is wrong with him? Anger, hot and sharp, envelopes her. He should be shrinking into a pool of despair. He’s just lost a daughter. He should be falling apart. Where is the grief? The disbelief? The anguish?

Seething, Dana pulls back, out of view, yet still able to see. Tom shakes the hands of the officers, nodding, standing, arms encircling his body, comforting himself. 

He is frozen in place. Dana’s heart pounds as she anticipates his breakdown. Wait, no…. he’s looking at the hedges. Picks at one. Examines it. Bagworms. He turns in circles, looking for something. He collects a bucket from under the spigot and returns to the hedge, dropping the bagworm in. He pulls at a couple more. What the hell? Who cares about the hedges, Tom? He sniffles, rubbing his nose, sets the bucket down, advancing toward the front door.

She scurries into the kitchen. Hands trembling, she fumbles with a mug, nearly dropping it. Tears begin escaping, having been held captive as long as Dana’s been able, and they’ll stay prisoner no more. Shaking, she pours a cup, pulls out the kitchen chair. The same chair she sat in last night when Kenzie screamed she hated her - she couldn’t wait to be out of her hair forever. Careful what you wish for.

Dana exhales, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her kitchen, modest, yet clean and uncluttered. Comfortable. She takes some comfort in being surrounded by what’s familiar. She can hear Tom approaching. She braces herself. 

She hears Tom enter the house, expecting him to call out to her. To come to her. To embrace her and tell her what he’s learned. Instead he makes a sharp right to head down the long hall to their bedroom. He must think she’s still in bed.

 She hears the garage door begin to rumble, signaling someone has arrived home. Please let it be Janey. 

Tom appears in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Did you call a family meeting?” Dana whispers, realizing Tom must have called their living child back home to break the horrifying news.

“No, but we do need to talk.” His voice is somber, flat. He stands rigid, a sentinel in place.

Dana hears movement in the garage. Things being moved around; something being accidentally knocked over, probably picked up. 

Neither girl was supposed to be home from school, yet both were, with last minute ideas of why it had been necessary to make the trip back. Both were supposed to be heading back to school today, but not now. One was destined to stay behind, forever in a grave. 

Dana hears commotion on the other side of the garage door, and watches in sick anticipation as the knob turns and the door swings inward. Kenzie barrels into the kitchen, dropping her duffel in the middle of the floor, just as she’s done a hundred times before.

Dana goes numb, chokes back sobs, then releases them in a long, drawn-out scream. 

“You! Why is it you? Why are you here? I don’t want you here! I don’t want it to be you!”

Tom turns to Dana, shocked at her outburst. “Dana, stop!”

“No, Tom, I won’t! If I have to live without one of my daughters, I want it to be HER!” Dana stands shakily, pointing to Kenzie, who backs away from her mother. “What makes you think you deserve to be here? You are the one who should be dead. You have done nothing for this family but take and take without a second thought about anyone else. And now the most precious thing I had in my life has been taken from me.” 

Dana begins to hiccup and sob. She picks up her mug and throws it at Kenzie, who barely dodges it. 

Suddenly Dana lunges for her youngest daughter, attempting to smack her face. Tom blocks her; Kenzie dives to the floor. “I will hate you forever; you will never live up to your sister, who I have now lost forever. Why couldn’t you have died?” 

Tom grabs Dana, pulling her backwards, forcefully placing her back in her chair. Dana wails uncontrollably as Kenzie stands, gripping the table, staring wide-eyed and confused.

From the garage Janey enters and asks, “Mom, did Kenzie tell you she had to come get me from Becca’s? My car was stolen and totaled last night, can you believe it?”