Page 36 of The Secrets We Keep
A song began playing. The same few notes over and over. Urgent.
Jasper opened his eyes to his phone, playing its ringtone and vibrating on the nightstand next to his bed. On a lark, without really knowing why, he’d assigned the Jack Sparrow theme song to his father once upon a time.
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Sat up and yawned.
The dream and its horrific images departed. And Jasper had no desire to cling to them. He mumbled, unsure even why, “I wasn’t there anyway.”
He couldn’t avoid his dad forever. And it wasn’t like him to call so many times in just a few days. Hell, it wasn’t like him to call at all, save for Jasper’s birthday and on Christmas.
He poked at the screen. “Dad.” Jasper’s voice came out in a rasp.
“Were you sleeping?”
Jasper glanced down at the phone’s screen. “Well yeah, it’s only a little after five here.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, son. But I’ve been hopin’ I could get ahold of you. Didn’t you see I been trying to call?”
Leave it to his dad to rely on caller ID, rather than stoop to leaving a message. His dad had always been the most taciturn man Jasper had ever known. It was as though talking actually caused him physical pain. And maybe it did.
It was probably torture for him to leave a recorded message.
Nevertheless, “Yeah, I saw. I went out of town.” Jasper knew his father wouldn’t ask where he’d been.
And he was right. “I was trying to call you because I didn’t know if you’d heard about Louise.”
Jasper sat up straighter in his bed, suddenly more awake and alert. “Louise? What about her?”
Louise Bell had lived next door to Jasper and his father since before his mom and little sister had been murdered, that horrible summer day all those years ago. Jasper had a brief flash of his dream and quickly banished it to whatever oblivion dreams lived in.
She’d been a kind of surrogate mother to Jasper, babysitting him when his father worked and Jasper wasn’t in school. Jasper could count on her to be there when he came home from Pulaski Elementary, seated in her warm maple-and-gold kitchen at the table, working a crossword puzzle. The kitchen was always redolent with the smell of baked goods—fresh bread, sweet-potato pie, glazed doughnuts. There was always something sweet for him.
And for her. Louise probably weighed a good three hundred pounds, but her bosom, underneath the simple floral-print housedresses she favored, was always soft, smelling of baby powder. Her freckles, dark skin, and short afro rose up in Jasper’s memory, the backdrop to her smile, which was always loving, save for the times when he dared to bother her when she was watching what she called her stories,All My ChildrenandThe Bold and the Beautiful. Those times, Jasper was expected to maintain his silence.
Louise and her large extended clan—her husband, Jessie, and her three grown kids and countless grandkids—had taken Jasper and his reluctant father into their family. Without Louise and her endlessly kind heart, Jasper would have been alone on many holidays, watching TV with his dad while it seemed the whole world, except for them, celebrated.
“Well, I don’t know quite how to tell you this, son—”
Jasper felt a lurch in his gut, in his heart.Please no. Hasn’t there been enough pain?“She’s okay, right?”
Jasper knew Louise had a heart condition, high blood pressure, and diabetes. She also had an infinite capacity for cooking and taking care of her loved ones. Relaxation wasn’t in her vocabulary.
His father didn’t answer directly. “She hosted one of her legendary Sunday dinners.” Three kinds of meat—poultry, ham, and beef—macaroni and cheese, black-eyed peas, collards, corn bread, pies, cakes, and biscuits were typical fare, and Louise wouldn’t hear of letting anyone else make anything. “Nobody does it better,” she’d whisper to little Jasper when he’d ask why. She’d laugh and tap her chest. “Baby, nobody else’s tastes as good as mine. And that’s not bragging. That’s the simple truth.”
“And?” Jasper knew what was coming, could almost feel it like a wrecking ball headed in his direction. He closed his eyes and his shoulders rose up, almost as though he were expecting a physical blow.
The news was worse. “She collapsed in the kitchen. I watched it all from the backyard. The ambulance showed up. EMTs tried their best.”
“So they tried their best?”Please say something other than what I know I’m going to hear. Say, “And they brought her back. But, man, was it ever a close call!”
But that’s not what Dad said.
Jasper heard his own voice break as he said, “Please, Dad, don’t say it. Please.”
There was silence on the other end for too long. “Spare me,” Jasper wanted to add. “As long as you don’t say the words, it can’t be true.”
“Aw, son, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. I’m sorry, Jazz, but she’s gone.”
Jasper was tempted to simply end the call. Dad would probably be grateful. It was hard enough for him to make simple everyday conversation, let alone one like this.