The Eyes and Ears of Love (14 page)

“So if we aren’t here to meet Janessa, why are we here?”

“The academic director, asked all the families of the victims to come and speak at a memorial in their honor. The school paid for our trip.”

“I didn’t even go to Donna’s god damn funeral, why the hell would I want to go to a memorial for all the victims?”

“Trust me, Dorothy, if someone back home would have agreed to take care of you in Oregon, you would not be here with me right now.” Her voice is harsh. “Stay in the hot car if you want, I just don’t care anymore.” 

The door creaks open and slams shut. Dorothy can only hear the sound of her own breath being exhaled.

I don’t want to go the memorial. If I get out of this car, my mother wins. She doesn’t deserve to win, she lied to me. What if Luke’s family is in there?
Dorothy shakes her head.
They wouldn’t be in there. He’s not considered a victim. Is he?

Dorothy pulls the door handle, gently and gets outs.

“You’re going to be a good sport about this?” she hears her mother’s voice.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. I don’t know how long this memorial is. I could be stuck in the car for hours.”

Her mother grabs her by the arm to help guide her as they walk.

“If I would have told you the truth, would you have come?”

“No.”

“Exactly, you didn’t give me much of a choice either. I wanted to be here and I shouldn’t have to worry about what you want.”

“Whatever, mom.”

Dorothy hears a man’s voice creeping closer, amplified with a microphone. “Thank you everyone for attending tonight. I am Mr. Baldwin, the board director here at the university. Most of you already know why this service is being held. Last year we lost three students in a tragic car accident. The loss of these students affected the entire university and the surrounding community. These students, as all students are, were each remarkable in their own way. I personally was very close to one of the students and his family, Luke Walsh. Luke was a wonderful person. He always made me laugh. He had thriving goals to graduate and attend try-outs with the NBA. I would like to welcome each of the surviving families today, as all the student’s families have come to experience this memorial. The purpose of this memorial is to honor the students who lost their lives and to express the importance of refraining from driving while under the influence of alcohol. Now, I take a moment to invite anyone in the audience to come speak about your lost loved one.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Hello everyone, my name is Erica, and this is my husband Frank,” a soften voice speaks into a microphone. “We are Luke’s parents. Luke was driving the car the night of the accident.”

Dorothy feels a sudden chill follow the incline of her spine.

“Luke was a very popular student. He loved school, but loved basketball even more. He was so thrilled when he became co-captain of the team.”

As she continues to speak, Dorothy stands motionless in her mother’s grip as Luke’s mother spouts all of the standard stuff – Luke was a star basketball player, a gentle being, he’d give you the shirt off his back – but Dorothy is reeling. It must be great for everyone to get to sit around and lament, and return to their ordinary lives with their ordinary eyes…

“Luke made a life changing mistake and went behind the wheel after he had been drinking. I wish I could talk to my son right before he went behind the wheel but I can’t. When you think of Luke, I would like you to think about the person he was, not the mistakes he made.”

Dorothy can feel the anger travel through the inner core of her heart.

“I believe that the fate would have been the same regardless if Luke had driven or one of the other students had. I pray that no student makes the same mistake. Thank you.”

Dorothy feels her mom pulling on her hand to get up. Her mom guides her to the front of the auditorium. Dorothy can hear whispers of all different directions as they traveled towards the front of the auditorium. The rage of Erica’s words keep her fueled and confident to move forward and march towards the front.

“Hello,” her mom speaks into a microphone. “I am Donna’s mom and this is her sister Dorothy. Dorothy was the only surviving student of the accident. It’s a blessing that she is here and I am very fortunate to not have lost her. Donna was a very likable person; she had a positive impact on everyone she met.”

Her mom continues, but Dorothy is still juggling the words of Luke’s mom. His mom feels as though they all would have driven if Luke hadn’t. Is that true?
If Luke hadn’t driven, would Donna or Julie have instead? Would I have?
She asks herself.

“Excuse me,” Dorothy says, grasping for the microphone and interrupting her mother. She wraps her hand around the cool metal and speaks, her voice echoing through the silenced auditorium. “I have something to say to you, Mrs. Walsh. You don’t know me, or Donna, or Julie. You can’t say that everyone’s fate would have been the same regardless if Luke had driven or if one of us had. I can’t look you in the eye right now and say this to your face because I am blind. I’m blind because your son crashed the car and took my vision.”

Her mom tries pulling her away, muttering, “don’t, Dorothy. Don’t.”

Dorothy pushes her back, bending even closer to the microphone. “But even worse, I lost my sister because of your son. And it’s not the same pain you feel.” Her head spins as she grows dizzy with her thoughts. “My sister was taken from me while your son basically killed himself. We might as well call his death a suicide.”

The crowd gasps.

Dorothy releases several tears, but goes on, raising her voice. “The best thing you can say to the families of the real victims of the accident is that your son is a horror of a person and if your son was alive, he would spend the rest of his life in prison and an eternity in hell.”

Her mom abruptly pulls her from the microphone and drags her out of the auditorium. She can her people muttering to each other as her mom aggressively pulls her away from everyone. Then, the sun blazes on Dorothy’s face, acknowledging they are in the parking lot.

“What is the matter with you?” she shouts, angrily.

“Everything I said was true.”

“No! You don’t know that. Can you speak for Julie and Donna with complete certainty that if Luke hadn’t driven, they wouldn’t have either?

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she shouts. “Whether or not they would have doesn’t change the fact that Luke was driving. I hate her trying to sugar coat what Luke did.”

“No, she is just trying to heal and rationalize that you were all drinking and that you all could have chosen to drive.”

“And maybe all of us could have survived if I or even Julie chose to drive.”

“Dorothy, you can play the ‘what if’ card all you want, but this anger has got to stop.”

“Why, mom? Because it’s hurting your feelings? For the first time in my life I’m actually expressing my anger and saying whatever the hell is on my mind instead of hiding behind cooking or baking. This is me. This is who I am now.”

“Ma’am,” a voice calls out from a distance.

“Who’s that?” Dorothy asks her mother. 

“Ma’am,” a voice sounding like Mr. Baldwin calls out once more.

Her mom practically throws Dorothy in the car.

“Hey!” Dorothy yells as the door slams next to her. She can hear the muffled, inaudible conversation of her mother and Mr. Baldwin.

She imagines her mother apologizing right now for her behavior. Then, maybe swapping her phone number for a quick one-night stand tonight before their flight back to Oregon tomorrow morning.

Moments later, her mother returns to the car.

“I’m sure you gave him your number.”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you the entire trip. Do you understand me?”

“Whatever,” Dorothy sneers.

***

Bentley is sitting in his third-floor office in the old Victorian home, exhausted, waiting on the phone for the plumbing company to take him off hold. He looks out the window by his desk and sees a woman approaching from across the street; her hair is a bit unruly and she walks while wringing her hands. He scrambles to find his calendar to check if he has an appointment with her that he’d forgotten about, but there’s no appointment scheduled. He waits in his office and lets the receptionist talk to the woman. There’s a knock on his door. Bentley gives up on the plumbing company and hangs up the phone to answer the door.

It’s the receptionist, Peggy and the woman from the street who stands quietly behind her.

“This is Erin Monroe, Mr. Menichelli,” Peggy introduces the woman.

Bentley stands. “Hello, Ms. Monroe.” He reaches over his desk to shake her hand. “What can I do for you? Please have a seat.”

He sees the woman sizing him up; he wonders if Ms. Monroe thinks he looks too young to be in charge like the others who have come and gone from the facility.

“I’ll hold any calls,” Peggy says as she turns to leave.

Bentley nods.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Ms. Monroe finally says as she sits in front of Bentley’s desk. “Desperate, I suppose.”

“Do you know what we do here at the Garden?”

“Yes.”

“What brings you here?”

“My daughter is newly blind.” She shakes her head, “I suppose newly is inaccurate, it’s been about a year since her accident.”

“She’s still having trouble adjusting?”

“To say the least.”

“How did you hear about the facility?”

She scrambles through her purse and pulls out Bentley’s business card and reads the handwriting on the back. “Mr. Baldwin referred me.”

“Mr. Baldwin’s a good man.”

“He said you graduated from the university?”

“Yes.”

She nods, “And when was that exactly?”

“A year ago.”

She chuckles, “I must be going.” She stands, pulling her shoulders back. “I left my daughter in the hotel by herself.”

“Let me take you on a quick tour before you leave,” he insists.

She raises her arm to view the time on her wristwatch. “I don’t know.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

“Okay, but only a few minutes.”

First, he takes her to the group therapy room, where they stand and look in from the window. A very small group of four people are talking.

Ms. Monroe asks, “Is that everyone?”

“Yes. I like to keep the groups small so it’s easier for residents to trust others. But the Garden is still a bit of a startup, so we only have five residents.”

Her lips tighten and she furrows her brow.

He then escorts her to a very large room with a single trampoline in the middle. The room’s walls have paint peeling and one of the windows is broken.

I should have painted these walls last week. I’m such an idiot. I wonder if she’s more focused on the trampoline or the damn paint.
He wonders as he glances at her. Her head is tilted.

He’s making mental notes to get certain things fixed as he explains, “This is the trampoline room. It used to be a living room, but you see, we knocked out the ceiling so we could make the space taller for trampoline activities.”

“Why a trampoline?” Ms. Monroe asks. “Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s used for balancing. My father constructed harnesses hooked into the ceiling for the visitors or residents to wear and there’s always a spotter.

Then, he takes her out back to a somewhat dilapidated greenhouse.

“We’re still fixing it up, but we’ve managed to put a pool in it,” he explains as he opens the door. The pool was recently cleaned so it takes the attention away from the green tinted smog on the windows. “The pool is one of the Garden’s most valuable resources for our attendants because it teaches and allows practice for equilibrium. It’s the one place our attendants will never fall or stumble.”

Her shoulders release tension and the lines around her face smooth out.

He asks if she has questions, and she says she has one – “Why is it called the Garden?”

I haven’t even shown her the best part.

He smiles. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

He takes her upstairs to where the rooftop garden is. Her mouth opens and her eyes race up to the sky as birds fly overhead.

“The garden is a memorial for my sister Emily. My dad and I built it together when I first closed on the house.”

“Dorothy would love this,” she smiles. “The smells, the herbs, everything up here…she would love this.”

Chapter 5

***

The next morning in the hotel room, Dorothy sits on the bed while her mom packs their suitcases. She’s unusually quiet this morning. She might still be upset with Dorothy from yesterday, for embarrassing her in front of the people at the memorial.

Dorothy rubs the corners of her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she kept thinking about everything she said to Luke’s parents.