Page 43 of Say Something
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One evening after work, I decided to walk to The Diner for dinner. On the return trip home, I took a detour down Magnolia Lane. It wasn’t an unconscious decision. Danny’s parents lived on Magnolia.
I paused at the curb and looked up at their modest ranch home. The brick was still the same bright red it was when we were children, hadn’t dulled a bit. His mother had loved the red brick and got so angry at us kids when we took our sidewalk chalk to the side of her house. We’d spent as much time pressure washing it as we had committing chalk crimes.
The memory reminded me of just how far back my history with Danny went. Our lives had been intertwined since we were in elementary school, before that even, I just didn’t remember that far back. I remembered being in the same class from kindergarten through third grade, and getting so upset when we were placed in different classes for middle school. We’d grown apart during those years, boys had cooties and all that, then reunited in junior high. He certainly didn’t have cooties then. I crushed on him so hard until he finally asked me out sophomore year.
My eyes moved from the low window of Danny’s childhood bedroom—one I snuck in and out of more than a few times—to the wide expanse of grass where so many pictures were taken. Memories made. Smiles had. We took our prom photos under the tree beside the driveway. I ran up the perfectly straight flagstone walkway to show Danny my college acceptance letter. We walked down that same walkway together, hand-in-hand, the night we’d told his parents we’d gotten engaged.
I was staring down at the rock path, so I didn’t see Mrs. Thompson open the front door. I didn’t see her walking down the walkway until her slipper clad feet were in my line of sight. My eyes darted up to her face, surprised at her sudden appearance.
“Oh, my dear girl.” She gave me a sad smile and pulled me in for a hug.
It wasn’t until I was in her arms that I realized I was crying. “I’m sorry,” I said, not really knowing what I was apologizing for in that moment. For crying? For breaking her son’s heart? For not coming to see her sooner?
“Why don’t you come inside? I just boiled some water for tea and there’s some leftover pie.”
I let her lead me into the house, wiping my eyes as I walked. I still didn’t know what to say to her. What was a woman supposed to say to her ex-mother-in-law?
The house smelled the same as it did years ago, and a new wave of nostalgia washed over me. Memories of being part of the Thompson’s family dinners flashed through my mind. Big, raucous meals that occasionally ended in food fights between Danny and Dean. Sometimes Mr. Thompson was involved as well. When the food went flying, Mrs. T would always calmly get up from the table, having faith that the boys would clean up the mess. And they always did. Those boys hated upsetting their momma.
“Sit,” she said, nodding towards the kitchen table. I did as I was told, operating on autopilot, it seemed. She handed me a warm mug and sat down on a chair catty-corner to me, then stirred some sugar into her tea. The house was so quiet, all I could hear was the hum of the refrigerator. It was nerve wracking. Mrs. Thompson was a big woman, and I didn’t mean her weight. She had a large frame—tall with wide shoulders—and she was intimidating as hell.
“You look like you’re about to pee your pants,” Mrs. Thompson said, seeming to read where my thoughts were going.
“I just might,” I admitted.
She laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too. Mrs. Thompson had that kind of laugh—boisterous and infectious.
“It’s good to see you,” she said with a sad smile.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“Don’t lie,” she joked.
I smiled. “No, really. Itisgood to see you. I hadn’t realized how much I missed everyone, everything, until I got back here.”
“It’s good to have you kids home again,” she said, looking down at her tea. “We missed you both so much while you were gone. Greg and me, your mom and dad, your brothers and sister, Dean. I even think Darcy missed you guys. That girl…” she trailed off.
“I’m so-” I started to say, but she interrupted.
“Don’t apologize. We understood. You two needed to go conquer the world in your own ways.”
“But we should have come home more,” I said, disappointed in myself.
“Yeah, you should have,” she sighed. “But that’s in the past. You’re here now.”
“You don’t hate me?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Mrs. Thompson tipped her head to the side and looked at me with confusion on her face. “Why on earth would I hate you?”
“Because me and Danny…”
“Went through some things no one should ever have to go through. My gosh, sweet girl, we hurt so much for the two of you.”
“But-”
“But nothing, Jessica Lynn. I can’t pretend to know exactly how you felt after being dealt blow after blow like that, but I know a thing or two about loss, about grieving, and I know how painful and all-consuming it can be. I didn’t share this openly before, and maybe I should have been more open about it, maybe it would have allowed the two of you to be more open with us, and maybe things would be different. It took Greg and me a long time to get pregnant with Daniel. We tried for years, went through what seemed like a million tests. There was no known cause. I got pregnant four times, each ended in miscarriage.”
