Chapter Four

Andrew set the last bag of groceries from the car on the floor of the kitchen, making sure he didn't track any mud into the house. Audrey, his mother, was busy putting them away as quickly as he brought them in. He began to help her, putting the milk in the fridge and shuffling around the contents to make room for the rest of the food.

“Thank you for getting the groceries, Andrew. After last night's shift, I just couldn't get going today. Your dad used to do the grocery shopping for me-- he would always buy something special for you, remember?” She stopped for a moment, her eyes going distant, as she drifted into the past.

“Yeah, I remember Mom. He would always get me a special cereal or dessert or something. How about I just plan on doing all the grocery shopping from now on? I can do it on my way home from work on Thursdays, and that way and you don't have to worry about it,” Andrew said as he put the eggs away.

“Oh no, honey! I am the parent here. You shouldn't have to do that. I appreciate you doing it today, but I'll do it next time,” Audrey said, placing her hand on his, shoulder. Andrew sighed. That was what she had said last time. And the time before that, and the time before that.

Andrew couldn't remember the last time his mother had actually gone to the grocery store. Every week she waited until the last moment to ask him to go for her. One week he had gone preemptively, figuring that she would back out yet again and send him off at the last minute; Audrey had been furious. She had screamed that she was the parent and how dare he do his father's duties. The memory made him cringe.

“Okay, Mom. I'll be on the computer if you need me,” he replied, turning to head for his room.

“I thought I would make chicken pot pie for dinner tonight. It was your father's favorite,” she called out after him.

“Sounds good, Mom. The veggies are in the freezer,” Andrew yelled back as he opened the door to his room. He could hear his mother rooting around in the kitchen for the various pans and supplies as she started dinner. He sighed again as he sat down at his computer desk and turned on his laptop. The fan whirred to life as he waited for it to boot, feeling beaten yet again by groceries.

***

“The groceries are just part of it. A symptom of the whole disease. She just can't get past this, and she refuses to get help. I made her an appointment with a therapist, and she refused to go because she said, and I quote, 'I'm not sick, Andrew! Nothing is wrong!' I think she lives in this world where Dad is just missing and will come home any day now,” Andrew said into the dark, his voice full of anger and pain. As I listened quietly while he vented about his mom, I wondered how she had gotten to this point.

It had been almost two years since his dad’s death. Two days after high school graduation, Andrew's dad had gone to replace a power transformer and never came home. The last memory Andrew had of his dad was talking to him that morning, his mouth full of cereal as they discussed his plans for college. Andrew had a scholarship to Colorado State University and plans to go on to medical school after that. Mr. Miller had been so proud of him. He had told everyone in town that his son was going to be a “big fancy doctor” someday, the biggest grin on his face.

Andrew was at my graduation party when a police officer arrived to get him and his mom. I can still see the haunted look on his face as the police cruiser took them away to the morgue. He told me later that the coroner said his dad never felt anything because the electric shock was so strong. Andrew could never decide if that was true or if the coroner was just trying to comfort a grieving kid.

Charles Miller had been a good man. I remembered him working long hours, but always coming home to tuck Andrew in at night as a kid, even if he left right after to get back to work. He had loved Andrew more than anything in the world. Andrew had known that things between Charlie and his mother weren't perfect, but growing up he had always had two loving parents. His parents had a happy relationship, but even when I was a teenager, I had noticed that they were more friends than lovers.

Andrew's mom took Charlie's death really hard. I remembered her laying in bed for months after the accident, barely moving and refusing to eat. Andrew spent a lot of time at my house that summer, since his own house too full of pain. Andrew had been incredibly grateful when my dad had helped him arrange the funeral, as his mother was in no condition to do it. Andrew had no idea if his dad had wanted to be cremated or buried, and no concept of how to arrange any of it. When he had to sign the papers to release his father's body, he went with my dad. When my dad came home, his shoulder was damp with tears and there were tear stains on his own face. I never said anything about it, but I was glad someone had been there for him.

We were supposed to leave for college together, but when the water was turned off because Audrey forgot to pay the bill, he canceled his plans to go to college and took over. His father's life insurance paid off most of the mortgage, and Charlie had saved up enough to keep the lights on for a while. It had taken a lot of time, patience, and help from my dad, but Andrew had finally gotten his father's affairs in order and the bills sorted out.

When money started to get low, he told his mom it was time for her to go back to work. She seemed confused at first, but she had sat silently as he told her he was putting off school and getting a job at the local hardware store. He told her he would take care of her, but that he needed her help to make ends meet. He had called me that night because he could hear her crying on the other side of the walls.

The next morning, he woke up to find his mother making eggs in the kitchen. It was the first time she had seemed alive since the accident. A few days after that, she resumed her job as a nurse at the local emergency clinic. Things were slowly starting to get better, and he had even hoped that he might still be able to go to school. That hope was quickly dashed when he went away for a week to volunteer with the middle school's outdoor education program and came back to find his mother in the hospital after a nervous breakdown.

She had panicked being on her own, the fear of Andrew leaving her like Charlie did completely overwhelming her. She had even called me half a dozen times in a frenzy trying to find Andrew. No matter how many times I told her where he was, she didn't believe me. I had eventually sent my dad to check in on her. That's how she got to the hospital. She was certain that Andrew was gone forever. It had taken a week to get her to go back to work, and another month before she was back to 'normal.’

“I don't want to stay stuck in this stupid town because Mom can't be alone. She wasn't like this when Dad was around. Gramma says she wasn't like this growing up. She used to be fearless. Now all she is just a giant ball of fear walking around in skin. I don't know what to do. I hate this,” he finished softly, the energy gone from his voice.

A passing car made the tear streaks on his face shine briefly. I hurt for him. Andrew was so much better than I could ever hope to be. He didn't deserve this. I put my hand on his shoulder, touching him gently to let him know he wasn't alone. I never wanted to let go.

“Andrew, I don't know if I can help at all. If I can, you let me know. If you want, I'll take her down to the city sometime so you can have some time to yourself. Or whatever you need,” I said softly. I could feel him take a deep breath, shuddering slightly as he let it out.

“That would be great. Actually, just getting to talk to someone about her is great. Thank you, Holly. I know you don't want to be here, but I'm glad you're back. Next time, you get to spill your guts about why you're back; elaborate more than just saying 'things didn't work out'.’ But seriously, thanks for making me vent. I needed it.” I could feel him move his hands through the dark to wipe his cheeks before placing his hand on mine. His palm and fingers were warm, his heat seeping into me, connecting us. The air seemed to crackle with potential. I started to move closer to him, wanting more of him, but his phone buzzed, discharging all the electricity in the air. He let go of my hand to pick it up, our connection broken.

“Mom, I told you I would be there soon... I'm fine, Mom. I'm with Holly, remember?” I sat back into my chair, feeling a strange thrill still lingering in my hand where he had touched me. I had never felt that kind of connection before. I could hear his mother over the phone, her electronic voice squeaking about dinner and worry. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “Time to go.”

I started the car back up, blasting the defroster to remove enough fog from the windows to be able to drive safely. It wasn't far, and by the time I reached Andrew's house, I could see clearly. He hopped out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door. As he reached for the handle, his mom opened the door, a look of relief filling her features. She waved to me as I backed out of the driveway, the warm light from the house spilling out into the night. It looked exactly the same as when my dad used to drop Andrew off after soccer practice. It made me heartsick for simpler times as I drove home, remembering how simple life had been when we were children.