Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green

Chapter

17





It seemed as if the rain would never stop. Six days in a row of nonstop showers made Sunny feel as if she were lost at sea, with nothing but water wherever she looked and no hope of rescue. Six days of putting together puzzles with Rachel, six days of reading Goodnight Moon over and over, six days of watching Dora the Explorer on the television. She thought she would lose her mind. Eric didn’t understand. He’d come home exhausted in the evening and think Sunny’s life was a breeze, taking care of a three-year-old her only responsibility. He didn’t even demand dinner when he came home: Takeout from the Chinese restaurant or Pizza parlor worked as well as a home cooked meal. Nor did he mind when she hadn’t tidied the apartment, Rachel’s toys strewn all over the living-room floor and the laundry still waiting to be folded.

Stuck inside the apartment day after day made her feel trapped. Eric promised they’d move away from New York when he finished his residency. Sunny hoped it would be closer to her mother. She loathed being so far from her. She wondered whether Rachel would remember her life in New York City—the noise, the smell, the crowds. She recalled so little of her own childhood. Her first real memory was from when she was 6 and entering first grade. When she attempted to conjure up earlier events, she’d felt a strange uneasiness, so she’d stopped trying.

“Mommy, I’m bored.”

Even her sweet-natured angel had turned whiny after six days of being cooped up.

“I know, Rachel. I think tomorrow the sun will be back and we can go to the park then. I bet Billy will be there.”

“But I’m bored now.”

Sunny understood boredom. It was her daily companion.


Eric heard the telephone ring first. He often received calls in the middle of the night and, despite his natural tendency to be a heavy sleeper, had trained himself to awaken quickly at that familiar sound. Expecting the hospital to be on the other end, he answered briskly, “Dr. Bergman.” Sunny, finely attuned to the cries of a child, had learned to maintain a state of sleep through those calls, but something in Eric’s tone broke through her sleep.

“I see,” she heard him say softly. “When did it happen? No, of course, I’m sure you did everything you could.” Quiet, and then Eric’s voice again. “That would be a great help, thank you. We’ll get the first plane out.”

“What’s wrong?” Sunny asked as she opened her eyes in the darkened bedroom.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying? What’s wrong?

“Your mother. She’s had a heart attack.”

A state of disbelief seized Sunny. She bolted upright in bed and let herself be pulled into an embrace by Eric. “Is she okay?” she whispered, too afraid to speak the words loudly.

“No. I’m sorry. She passed away before the ambulance arrived.”

“But … but … it can’t be true. Mom’s heart is fine. She’s always been so strong.”

“Sometimes it happens like that. With no warning.” Eric held Sunny tight as the realization of her mother’s death sunk in and her body shook from crying. A loud wail arose from her body. She kept shaking her head and murmuring “no.”

Eric stroked her hair until the sobs subsided.

“What will I do without her? She’s my rock. I need her.”

“I know.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Nancy. Your mother called her when she started having chest pains. She wanted to believe it was indigestion, but Nancy insisted she call 911. Only it was too late.”

Nancy. Her mom’s longtime friend. Almost like an aunt to Sunny.

Sunny tried to be strong, but tears erupted once more. Her father had died six years earlier. On her wedding day, when she walked down the aisle, she’d forced herself to hold back the tears that were so close to the surface because it wasn’t her father by her side. “I have no one left,” she said between sobs.

“You have me and Rachel.”

“Yes, but it’s not the same. I’m an orphan now. I’ve lost my history.”

Eric stroked her arm and whispered comforting words to her. They didn’t even try to return to sleep. He held Sunny in his arms until the outside light streaming through the blinds announced that a new day had begun.


The taxicab turned onto Aspen Road and Sunny felt her chest tighten. She had expected to return to her childhood home two weeks later for the Easter celebration. Her mother always waited in her plump window-side chair watching for her arrival. Now an empty house awaited her. Instead of a grandmother smothering Rachel with kisses, they’d walk into a deathly quiet home.

Nancy had made the funeral arrangements and contacted the few friends and family members who were left. Sunny had felt too numb to make decisions and was relieved to turn those responsibilities over to others. Now, as the taxicab turned into her driveway—her mother’s driveway—tears once again began to roll down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” Rachel said. “I’ll kiss the boo-boo and make it all better.”

Sunny wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and wrapped her arm around Rachel. “You’ve already made it better. See? No more crying.”

Eric paid the driver while Sunny and Rachel gathered their belongings and got out. The sun’s rays were strong, the glare startling to Sunny. That’s wrong. It should be a gloomy day, not sparkling. Yet everything did sparkle. The house, the lawn, the luxuriant gardens her mother had loved to tend. Holding Rachel’s hand, Sunny unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Pictures of her family adorned the foyer walls.

Eric came in behind them. “Why don’t you just relax? I’ll call the funeral home and let them know we’re here. We have a few hours before we’re expected there.”

It seemed surreal. Everything in the house looked the same as Sunny remembered: the gingham curtains in the kitchen that she’d helped her mother sew; the lace doily they’d picked up at a garage sale, on the dining-room table; the slipcovered sofa in the living room. Somehow, she’d thought it would be changed, different without her mother’s presence. She walked from room to room, touching items in each. It gave her a sense of connection, connection to her mother, connection to her childhood.

The funeral service would be held the next day, a graveside service with just a small group in attendance. Her mother had retired from nursing a few years earlier and hadn’t remained in touch with her former colleagues. “I want to travel while I’m still young enough to get around on my own,” she’d said. And she did travel. Her first trip had been to New York, to visit Sunny. From there, she and Nancy flew to Paris. It had always been her dream to tour the Louvre, walk down the Champs Elysee, ride an elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. “It was everything I’d imagined,” she told Sunny on her return. “Don’t wait to travel until you’re old, like me. Do it while you’re young.” She and Nancy had taken more trips after that, but the trip to Paris had remained special to her.

Sunny wondered if her mother would have begun traveling earlier in her life if she hadn’t had her daughter to take care of. She’d been an older mother when she finally gave birth to Sunny, almost 40. The parents of Sunny’s friends were still in their forties when their children went off to college, young enough to enjoy the freedom that brought. As Sunny walked through the house and fingered the knickknacks her mother had brought home from her travels, she wondered whether she had ever regretted being held down by a child. But as soon as the thought passed through her mind, it evaporated. Sunny knew that she had been the center of her parents’ world, that they had loved every moment of their lives. Her mother had set aside her dream of traveling for something she cherished even more: her daughter. How fortunate I was. She settled onto the couch and looked at Eric and Rachel. She had postponed her own dream of becoming a nurse in favor of motherhood. As she watched her daughter snuggle in her father’s lap, Sunny knew with certainty that she didn’t regret her decision.