happened to Steve. Dad was
within a decade of a normal life span. He had kids, went on fun vacations, and got
to spend all of his active years with you. He actually lived life! Steve only got
to start living. So don’t even try to tell me you know what I’m going through, because
you don’t.”
Barbara evidently had no response to calm her angry, hurt daughter and an awkward
silence, made even more awkward by the fact the conversation was taking place on a
phone and not in person, filled the next few moments. Finally, obviously struggling
to find words, Barbara continued.
“Honey, I know it didn’t happen the same way, but . . .”
In a challenging tone now filled with hostility, Meg fired back. “Mom, when Dad died,
Terri and I were already out of school. He left you secure. You didn’t have to go
back to work.That made it easy for you, at least compared to what I’m going through. Show me one
place you had it tougher than me! I dare you, show me one place!”
Her voice now growing louder and more demanding, Meg challenged her mother again,
“Show me, Mom!”
Attempting to apply a mother’s empathy, Barbara answered with a calm steady voice.
“Meg, dear, your father’s death was not easy for me, no matter how long I’d had to
prepare. We had been together for thirty-six years.”
“Mom, be grateful for them, that’s an eternity compared to what Steve and I had.”
“I know, Meg, but still I had a very difficult time adjusting. Your father and I were
a team. We were together all the time.”
“Dad didn’t leave you pregnant.”
The silence that followed had the effect of an immense black hole—all energy immediately
drained from both ends of the call and neither woman spoke for almost a minute. Finally,
Barbara whispered, “What?”
“You heard me.”
“When did you, I mean, how long have you known?”
“I found out right after he died, Mom. How’s that for a kick in the pants?”
Meg now sensed her mother had fallen into a complete state of shock. The pregnancy
had come from out of left field. Meg knew the older woman hadn’t even suspected. Before
her mother could sort through her confused thoughts and emotions, Meg bluntly ended
their conversation.
“Listen, Mom, if you don’t get on the move, you’re going to be late for church. Your
friends will all be there and they’ll want to talk about how horrible this all is.
I wouldn’t want you to miss that. I want to be alone today anyway. Please respect
that. Don’t come over and don’t call me. Now, good-bye.”
Meg didn’t even wait for her mother’s response. Satisfied she had extracted a full
measure of pain, she hit the end call button and tossed the phone onto the couch.
Wandering back to the kitchen window, she once again picked up her Coke and looked
outside. Mr. Fudge’s car was now gone and the only signs of life on the street were
the playing birds and the stalking cat. For reasons she didn’t comprehend, she found
herself drawn to the scene under the elm tree just a few yards from her door. It was
escapism at its best, like an Animal Planet documentary created only for her eyes.
Best of all, the unfolding drama took her mind off the pain that had so unexpectedly
entered her life.
For ten minutes, the cat watched unmoving and unseen, hidden by the tree’s large trunk.
Little by little, the birds came closer and closer to where he lay. Meg stood perfectly
still, amazed by the cat’s patience and equally impressed with the hungry stare in
his large, green eyes. He had become a living statue, a beautiful work of art. But
he didn’t stay stone cold for long. With absolutely no warming, in a very carefully
planned moment of his choosing, he sprang to life. Landing in the middle of the dozen
or more sparrows, his paws reached out, and in a split-second of brutal savagery,
broke the neck of the lone, unsuspecting cardinal.
As the red bird dropped