Never Come Back

Epilogue

Five months after Paul’s confession, the three of us—my siblings and I—go to the cemetery to visit Mom’s grave. It is mid-March, and the sky is the color of steel wool. In the corners of the cemetery, in the shadow of the stone walls, snow remains on the ground. The grass is soggy and springy as we walk across it, our shoes squishing in the soaked earth.

What can I say about our lives? They move forward.

I am back in school, arranging my schedule around Ronnie’s needs. Ronnie is working at his part-time job and going to speech therapy. He spends fifteen hours a week or so at the Miller Center, interacting with other adults with Down syndrome, learning the new skills he may need to live on his own—away from me—someday. Although when that day will come, I cannot say. But it is the goal, a goal Ronnie understands and pursues.

During the times when keeping up with school and Ronnie becomes too much, Dan helps me out. Our relationship has continued to progress. Slowly, but it’s progressing. I’ve tried to keep the door open wide enough to let him in.

Beth is harder to read. She lives her life in Reston Point. She sees her children and grandchildren and works in a local clothing store. We visit and talk as often as we can, although not as much as we did in the immediate aftermath of Gordon’s death and Paul’s confession. Back then, we all three clung to one another, survivors of the same wreckage. We spent many a late night talking through the things on our minds, sharing the images from our nightmares.

I used some of the insurance money to install a security system in Mom’s house. And, yes, Ronnie and I did move back in there. It seems like the only place to be, bad memories and all.

But over time, we all started to recognize the differences in our lives. If siblings grow up in very different circumstances, in very different times, and for all intents and purposes in very different families, are they still siblings? Can they ever feel the way other siblings feel?

We reach Mom’s grave. The grass has grown in and covered her plot. I stare at the headstone. Mom’s dates have been etched in next to Dad’s. I think about that, the two of them lying side by side for eternity. I’ve thought about it many times over the past five months, and I can only guess that Dad must have known about all of it before he married Mom. Gordon, Beth, the disappearance. How could he not? But the only person I could ask—Paul—is not someone I am willing to speak to. He sits in his prison cell, alone. I am finished with him. Once and for all. I’d like to say he is no longer my uncle, but I know that isn’t true. He is my uncle and always will be. He is part of the story.

I knew my dad well enough to guess how those things about Mom must have made him feel. It wouldn’t have mattered one bit to him. He would have taken her on—her life and whatever came with it—without a second thought. He loved her. For Dad, it was always that simple.

The three of us line up at the foot of the grave in a little half circle. Beth has brought flowers, and she lays them in the grass. We all stand there for a moment, alone with our thoughts.

Then Ronnie says, “Sis?”

I look over at him. He wears a winter coat and earmuffs. Beth looks too, and Ronnie notices.

“Sis and sis?” he says, his voice uncertain.

“What is it, Ronnie?” I ask.

“We’re not normal, are we?” he asks. “I mean, everything that’s happened. This family. It’s not really normal.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Mom lived her whole life making sure Ronnie felt and acted normal, and I am trying to carry that on. Not just because Mom wanted it, but also because I love my brother. I want a normal life for him.

Before I can formulate a response, Beth says, “I’ve been in a lot of families. A lot of them. Marriages, in-laws, kids, grandkids. Not one of them is normal. As far as I can tell, there’s no such thing, Ronnie.”

This seems to satisfy him. He even laughs a little and nods his head.

“Okay,” he says. “Who wants to be normal?”

The breeze picks up. It moves the clouds, allowing a little sliver of sun to peek through. The wind chills me as well, and I shiver. My brother and sister move closer to me, one from each side.

And that’s the way we stand in the cemetery:

Together.