Note: All parties engaged in sexual relations, in this story, are over 18.
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Introduction
It all started in a quiet suburban neighborhood where I've lived, with my family for the past two decades. My life was pretty routine and there's a quiet rhythm that underpins family life in the burb: the white noise of lawnmowers on a Sunday afternoon, the noise of the neighborhood kids playing in the streets on a school night and the splashing of my kids, roughhousing in the backyard pool all day on sunny Saturday while my wife, Lily, and I sip drinks on our raised backyard deck, under the pergola, while simultaneously relaxing together and watching the kids to ensure they remained safe.
Like I said: there's a quiet unobtrusive rhythm. Things fall into a comfortable pattern. Like most parents, my wife and I fell in love with our daughters, Jenny and Julie, at first sight. From the day Jenny, my eldest, was born and I watched as Lily held her, and I knew that there was nothing I wouldn't do for her. I made a similar silent vow when Julie was born.
It did not, in any way, stunt the relationship my wife and I shared. Although we had minor disagreements - I wanted more kids while she wanted to stay at two - our lovemaking sessions were frequent and active even after she gave birth to our two daughters and underwent tubal ligation. The disagreement that followed that surgery was likely the most contentious one but we got past that and our life flourished.
My wife and I were in sync with our dedication to our family and, as years passed, our home became its own world - a safe bubble within the larger context of a neighborhood that served as a buffer against the larger more chaotic world beyond. Yes, it was a place to sleep but, together, we enjoyed the sounds of life and joy so, while we encouraged our girls extra-curricular activities out of the house, we also connected them to the house.
Jenny's dance and gymnastics as well as Julie's martial arts and track and field activities brought us into contact with other micro communities which we quickly connected to our home by hosting events and celebrations. It was thus that our home became a hub of activity for both the neighborhood kids as well as the micro communities we connected to. Lily and I were both active in the girls school life, academics and their extracurricular lives and they were involved in ours.
Both our girls were stunningly beautiful but I guess most parents say that about their kids. A Dad knows, though. We knew that both our girls would be popular with the boys at school and, though we aren't prudes, we wanted to armor both girls against the worst of teenaged follies mostly by keeping communication lines open and knowing when one of us needed to rely on the specialized skills of the other. As both our children were girls, Mom took a lead much of the time but the girls appeared to need Dad too, with surprising frequency.
* * *
It was, ironically, a beautiful sunny summer Saturday in July. I had turned 40 the day before and we had agreed to hold off on my birthday party until the Saturday so we could have family and friends over for an afternoon barbeque. My wife insisted that we have the event because I'd "only turn 40 once." Her condition was that the party needed to be over by 9 pm so we could have our own after-party party. She hinted that I should nap before guests arrived because, though I was both healthy and athletic, she was going to test my limits. How does one nap after that kind of bomb drops?
I followed her advice and laid down, listening to some music with the girls on the back deck. Jen and Jules had both finished their final exams at the university earlier in the week and had arranged for groups of their own friends to come over to join in the festivities with us. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were expecting about 100 guests, all-told. Lily had gone out to pick up some last minute supplies - she always got too many - and promised to be back before noon.
There was some disagreement, between the girls, in the choice of the soundtrack for relaxation: Jen's idea of relaxing was a little bit of hip-hop and dance music that she could dance to while Jules wanted a more hard-rock selection. Given the choice, I'd have probably backed Jules but I got my entertainment from their playful banter. In the end, they did what they normally did: test each other's limits while occasionally trying to draw me into the debate; a futile effort since I had not yet found any way to navigate the minefield also known as "sister mediation." Luckily, there was no serious argument. Jen would make the best of the hard rock tunes with a dance style I silently prayed was confined to our backyard: her long blond hair swinging while her breasts bounced and her hips and butt moved in ways that made me blush. Jules also danced with her big sister, her slightly darker honey-brown long hair whipped about by her movement. Transfixed, I could only think how lucky I was to have such a healthy and beautiful family; my success, in business, was a distant second.
It was only 11 am when my cell phone rang. I had apparently dozed off and the girls were lounging on the deck couches with me. A fleeting thought came over me that I hoped she wasn't calling to say she was going to be late; I imagined joking about how that would cost her in the after-party party and I smiled. The girls were immediately curious, wanting to know when Mom would be back as family would be arriving at any moment. I could feel the blood run out of my face as my smile evaporated.
From the time I picked up the phone to the time I rushed to the hospital with the girls came in staccato rhythms; bursts where time sped to frenzied leaps forward to times that slowed to a glacial crawl punctuated only by the deafening thump of my heart in my chest and coursing of blood drowning out all other sound. The girls were crying, uncontrollably, and I remember holding them both - one under each arm - as we staggered first into a waiting room while Lily underwent emergency surgery, then into the room where my wife was rolled in and laid in a bed, her normally stylish outfit replaced by a hospital gown. Her face was peaceful but the doctor's words made a lie of appearances. The surgery had been 6 hours. They were making her as comfortable as they could. If my daughters didn't know what that meant, when the doctor said it, they did when they saw my face drained of blood.
I wanted to scream and cry and generally freak out but the quiet voice inside told me that my daughters needed something else so I held them, quietly. I hoped that they couldn't see the mix of anger and sorrow in my face that I could feel trying to gnash and claw its way out from deep within my soul. Lily passed at 9:23 pm.
* * *
The funeral was beautiful but it gave me little comfort; I would have traded its planned perfection for another week of bliss with my wife. That was not reality. She was cremated and laid in the plot we had planned to be our home 40 plus years' hence. The sardonic wit within commented wryly that she had to choose this to be the one occasion she would be early for. She would have thought that funny but I quietly hated myself for the humor as I watched her laid into the earth with my family and friends around me. A little more than a week earlier, we we going to party together to celebrate my birthday; this was a poor postponement.
We all handle death differently. Jules confided that she needed to get away for a while. She couldn't emotionally handle being in the house where everything reminded her of times we had shared with her mother. She was finding difficulty with the idea that, at seventeen, she would never again see her mother smile and laugh or even hear the firm but quiet command to clean her room. After some quiet discussion, she left, with my brother and his family, when they returned to their home across the country. She promised that we would all keep in touch but she needed to go away. Though it tore another chunk from my already severely wounded heart, I remained calm and supportive. I assured her that she could come home whenever she wanted and, in the meantime, I'd keep supporting her.
Jenny was different. She behaved much the way a good part of me wanted to act. She was an emotional roller coaster of the type that one could never survive in real life. She went from fondly looking though family photos to uncontrolled sobbing outbursts to rage-filled tirades. Each time, she'd eventually come and find me and I'd hold her and gently rock her, usually in the large armchair I kept in my home office, until she'd fall asleep. We'd spend time, often with her friends, in the pool or on the deck. We tried to return to some semblance of normalcy; it was monumentally difficult.
Months passed and a new rhythm of our life had emerged. It wasn't unpleasant but it still felt... sparse. Lily had left a big hole in all our lives. Jules leaving for the west coast had gouged out more. Talking to my younger daughter was strained and I could tell it wasn't easy for her, either. Many times, she'd enter the video chat with Jen and I showing clear signs she had been crying and she'd sometimes leave the chat, suddenly, showing signs that her emotions were overwhelming her. I spoke to my brother and sister-in-law but they provided little insight. In spite of many a number of breakthrough attempts, Jules wasn't going to completely open up to them. Jenny also tried, separately from me but clearly didn't see any way for me to help.
For myself, I retreated into my work. Being self-employed, I could make whatever work schedule I wanted so I worked more hours and took on a more numbed, muted version of my character. I still participated in Jenny's activities and talked with Jules, as much as I could, about her own but it was a pale reflection of what things had been like for our family when Lily was still with us.
Chapter 1
It was a morning, much like any other, in April. A full nine months after the day that had inexorably changed our family. Things had taken a turn for the lighter with the advent of spring and I'd awakened with an extra spring in my step. Small victories; that was all I wanted these days. My video chat with Jules, the evening before, had gone well. She had even smiled several times in the chat and our conversation had danced around how Jenny and I would feel about her coming home, this summer, when school ended. Inside, a part of me was doing cartwheels, handsprings and impossibly high leaps in the air. I kept that close to my chest but did express that I was very happy to hear she'd be coming home. I didn't push it by asking if she just stay, indefinitely, though I squeaked that invitation into the conversation as subtly as I could.
Jules confided that, with no small amount of guilt, she had started training again for track and field, again, and had resumed her martial arts just before the start of the winter semester. She had always liked martial arts training to help focus her thoughts and, when Christmas had caught up with her, she found herself woefully unprepared to face the holiday with her Mom gone and her immediate family on the other side of the country. She hadn't been prepared to return, at that time, but the more she resumed her activities, the more homesick she became.
Jenny had returned to her activities including cheerleading - the natural melding of her love for dance and gymnastics - and I had seen her in action a couple of nights ago. Her moods seemed to be stabilizing though she still had vulnerable moments. She still wanted cuddle sessions on my armchair, from time-to-time, but they had changed in nature from the desperate attempt to suture torn and frayed emotions to a simple mutually comforting and relaxing gesture. She would simply curl up, on her side, in my lap with her head on my chest and I would gently stroke her long blonde hair, occasionally kissing her crown.
