Page 26

Inertia

Pam was so happy to hug her daughter. When she thought that Hank would never know he had a grandchild on the way, her heart cracked open, so she didn’t think about that. These days, Pam didn’t know what thoughts would make her happy. For the past five years she’d thought she wanted a life without Hank. Now she knew she’d been wrong.

And yet, she couldn’t cry. She tried. But no tears came.

Paul and Estuardo spearheaded the funeral arrangements, consulting the new widows for confirmation on details such as music and eulogies. Claire was no help, as she was consumed with a trifecta of ailments—grief, morning sickness, and jet lag—and could barely sit upright. While Pam could offer saltines and cool pillows for two of those problems, she cringed while in her daughter’s embrace, knowing she alone was responsible for her crippling grief.

She, Nancy, and Shalisa couldn’t make a decision. And with all the people around, they couldn’t talk about the shitstorm they were in with no bodies, and no insurance money coming their way anytime soon. After they’d met with the funeral director, Pam had briefly huddled with her friends for a hurried exchange where they agreed to shelve that problem until after the service.

There was much to do, but Pam didn’t have the energy for any of it. She’d received a plethora of texts and voicemails, many of them offering perspectives on losing a husband, but none made mention of how to cope if you’d ordered his hit. Even if you’d changed your mind at the last minute. Pam sifted through the messages and paid attention to the ones that said, “go easy on yourself,”

“don’t expect too much,” “take care of you.” That was what she needed to hear.

Pam poured lemonade into her glass, topped up Shalisa’s, and sat at her backyard table waiting for Nancy. She could hear the click of Elmer’s nails as he roamed the townhouse, going from spot to spot, unsettled, in search of Hank.

“I sure could go for one of Hank’s margaritas right now,”

Shalisa said.

Pam smiled. She remembered how the sweet tang hit her lips when they were out on the water just a few days earlier. She should have asked Hank years ago to show her how he made his signature, and her favorite, cocktail. She should have watched him mix that last batch in their kitchen, before they took Dave’s ashes out on the boat Friday night. But even then, she thought she had more time. Two more days. Now, she’d never taste another of Hank’s margaritas. She swallowed hard.

They had their reasons.

They did it because they had their reasons. Even if they did change their minds at that last minute, this whole thing started because they had their reasons. She had to hang on to that. Pam lifted her face to the sun.

Shalisa sipped her lemonade. “Thank God for Paul and Estuardo. I don’t know what we’d do without them.”

Pam nodded. Pam had always been a doer and had never felt this useless. She remembered the term from high school physics—inertia. Unable to move. And she was so tired. She could put her head down on this table and be asleep in seconds.

A car door slammed in her driveway. Pam jumped. Hank was home.

No.

A moment later, the screen door slid open, and Nancy stepped outside. She didn’t close it behind her, just kept walking, and Elmer waddled down the step after her. Nancy approached them slowly, almost unseeing. She held an envelope in her hand. She sank into a chair.

“Nancy,”

Shalisa said. “Is everything all right?”

Nancy shook her head. Ever so slightly. Then looked at them, her eyes red from tears.

“What’s wrong, Nancy?”

Shalisa said.

Nancy slid the envelope to Shalisa, who picked it up and turned it so Pam could see that Paul’s name and mailing address were neatly printed across the front.

“Open it,”

Nancy said.

Shalisa lifted the flap and extracted a piece of paper. Pam recognized the logo of Larry’s bank on the letterhead. The note was handwritten, whatever it said.

Nancy said in a flat voice, “Paul went to the bank to collect his father’s personal effects. He found this in Larry’s top drawer.”

A rush of adrenaline surged through Pam’s veins, and for the first time since the police officers had arrived at Shalisa’s door, Pam was almost herself. Her eyes felt awake. She could feel her cheeks. She could hear clearly. She leaned forward. “What does it say?”

“Read it,”

Nancy said to Shalisa.

“I don’t have my readers,”

Shalisa said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Pam reached across the table and plucked the paper from Shalisa’s hand, held it at arm’s length, and read aloud:

Paul,

Your dad’s a jerk, but you already know that.

I am so sorry we lost so much time. I love you with all my heart.

Live your best life. Love anyone you want as long as he’s like your mom. Because if he loves you like your mom loved me, that’s all you’ll ever need.

All my love,

Dad.

And finally, Pam cried.