And then I prayed for my mother, for her to find some sort of joy in her life. It seemed like everything was waiting for her, if she would just reach out and take it. She should not be suffering at all. It was her own creation, this torturous life. Jenny was trouble, for sure, but she did not need to put every last ounce of herself into us, into her children. She needed to free herself, though I did not imagine it happening in this lifetime. Still, I prayed for her freedom.
I prayed for my father a little bit, but not as much as my mother and Jenny. All the time I wondered who he was, and I still did not know. We had lost each other a while ago, and had never found our way back. So I just prayed for him the same as I prayed for Jenny, for him to have the strength to deal with my mother. I would have prayed for something else, anything else, but I did not know what he needed to have fixed. He seemed all right, my father, in his own little world.
I prayed for Timber, too. I do not know why I added Timber in there. I just did. He popped into my head, he was giving me a silly wave, where he just bent his fingers at the knuckles, like the ones he gave me when I walked into the diner. I prayed that all of the changes he wanted to make in his life would work out just as he planned. I prayed, too, that he would find a nice woman to marry him, so that he would feel complete. I wanted a life of ease for him.
For me, I just prayed that I could feel. That was all I wanted, was to feel.
I saved Thomas for last. There were so many things I wanted for him. I knew every little part of him that needed changing, not for me, but just for him. I spent so much time with him, and even when I was not with him, I was thinking about him, focusing on who he was, down to his very core. I felt like I even knew what his blood tasted like. Salt water. And that his bones would be smooth and solid in my grip. And if I could see all the tiny little atoms and molecules in him it would be like looking through a kaleidoscope at the sky on a cloudy day. I knew how he hated the hair that came out of his ears, and I knew that he wished he talked quieter sometimes. I knew, even if he did not admit it, that he missed his dad, and he wished he had been there with him, that there had been some peace in the end. He needed his heart to be soothed. I knew he wished he were taller. I knew he wished he were smarter. I knew sometimes he felt alone even if I was sitting right next to him. I sent a wave of prayers, I wanted to wash over him with my thoughts. Release him. Freedom for him. Freedom for everyone.
My last words for him felt ridiculous in my head. I was embarrassed even thinking them, but then I thought: this is coming from a pure place.
Dear God, I said. Please let his body be what he wants it to be.
I felt incredibly peaceful during all this praying. Like there was all this crazy noise around me and in the middle of it I had clear and focused thoughts. I was like a big line of lightning in the middle of a storm. I could strike, I could make something happen. I was channeling something in me. It was some kind of power.
VALKA TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “Would you pray for me sometime?” she said.
“I already have,” I said.
THAT IS HOW MY HUSBAND found me, on the ground, praying in the living room, with the television set blaring behind me. He had a smile on his face when he walked in the room, but when I turned to look at him, I watched it drop away. He held a bouquet of roses in his hand. Bright red with baby’s breath. I always liked baby’s breath. It reminded me of corsages and school dances. Everyone ignores it because it’s filler but I like what it’s called. And I love the delicate crumbliness of it.
He squeezed the bottom of the bouquet. The paper rustled. He put the bouquet on the couch, and there was an even louder rustle. Between that and the newscaster’s voice it was more than I could bear. I covered my ears.
“Moonie, what’re you doing?” Thomas grabbed the remote control. He put the television on mute. “Have you lost your mind, girl?”
“I was . . .” I felt dumb even saying it. I sat back, and my ass rested on the soles of my feet. “I was praying, I guess. I don’t know.” I smiled at him extra pretty. It was phony and I knew it but I just wanted him to love me and forget the rest. “I was just worried about you. Going to the doctor.”
He sat down on the edge of the couch next to me.
“Ain’t nothing to worry about.” He put a hand on my head and patted it and then slid it down to my cheek. And then he looked at me so tenderly it was like my heart would break in two, I could really feel that, that there was the possibility that something could shatter inside me. Everything was so swelled up on the insides. All my parts were fighting for room, fighting for air.
“I’m one hundred percent okay,” he said. “And I think it might be time to test it all out.”
17.