[2013] Life II Page 22

  Pamela was home with Kyle. When she saw Jenny’s state, she quickly invited Jenny to stay as long as she wanted. Pamela then offered to babysit all four kids to allow Max and Jenny some private time.

  When they were alone, Max asked Jenny, “What happened?”

  Jenny appeared scared. “He hit me. First time he’s ever done that.”

  “Bullshit,” Max spat out. That asshole’s a real loser. But I won’t let it slide this time, Max thought, angered. “Why now?” he asked.

  “He was pissed off when I returned his motorcycle.”

  “You mean you won’t let him ride one?”

  “No, no. It’s okay for him to ride it. But we don’t have enough money. We’re still living off his income from the garage, and the kids needed new clothes. Len told me he was going to buy a motorcycle, which has been a dream of his for a long time, and I put my foot down.” Jenny started to tear up. “Max, I tried so many times to convince him to take the bike back, and pay off our credit cards. He kept saying don’t worry, we could afford everything, but I knew our cards were all maxed out. And we can’t make the mortgage payments.”

  Max was dumbfounded. “And he still bought a motorcycle?”

  “Yes. He explicitly threatened me that I couldn’t take it back for a refund. So yesterday I did just that. And I got most of the money back. But when he got home last night, and found the bike missing, he blew his top.”

  “Did he hit you in front of the children?”

  “No, thank goodness. But they heard our argument. Max, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Leave him,” Max said. His eyes pleaded with Jenny’s. Please say yes—now. Before it ends in something worse than a few bruises.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to talk this out with him. But first I need a little time to think.”

  Damn it, Max thought. “Don’t go back to him, Jenny. If he did this once, he’ll do it again. Please, for your sake, and the kids.” Max embraced her and she started to cry.

  Max could feel his sister’s heart pounding. Reaching out, he wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Thanks, Max.” Jenny pulled back and looked up at him through reddened eyes. “Remember back in high school when you tried to talk me out of moving away from home?”

  “Yep.”

  “You said you loved me.”

  “Yep.”

  “That meant so much to me. I’ve always known you’d be there for me. And when this happened, I knew you’d be here for me.”

  The next day, Len called Max’s house, in a bargaining mood. He still wanted the motorcycle back, and suggested borrowing the money to pay for the kids’ clothes. Jenny told him to shove it. The second day he apologized for hitting her. By the third day, Len was ready to apologize, and told Jenny he loved her and their children, and admitted that buying the motorcycle was a mistake. He agreed to seek anger management counseling. When Max returned from work that night, Jenny stood proudly in the kitchen. “We’re going home tomorrow.”

  Max was brokenhearted. “Am I supposed to be happy about that?”

  “I know you don’t like Len. But he’s a sweet guy, once you get to know him. And well, where else am I going to stay?”

  “You have choices, Jenny.”

  “Do I?” Jenny furrowed her brow. “I’m happy where I am. We have our ups and downs, but we’re doing okay.”

  “All right, Jenny.” Max tensed up, irritated. He found it hard to turn off his negative thoughts. “But if that asswipe ever hurts you again…”

  “I’m fine,” she stressed.

  His head hurt and he felt as though he might faint.

  Jenny sighed. “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine.” He looked up at her knowing something else was wrong. “What else?”

  “I want to talk to you about Mom.”

  “Mom?”

  “I’m tired of the games, Max. I want Mom the way she was, just like when we all lived at home.”

  Exasperated—not with Jenny’s feelings, but rather at the futility of it all—Max puffed up his cheeks, then blew out the air that couldn’t hold. It was like this in Life I. No matter how hard this family tries, we end up stuck in the same rut, circling each other, always trying to reach for the brass ring. I’ll keep trying to change this, Max resolved to himself. One advantage that we didn’t have in Life I is that I’m on Jenny’s side now. I can change things.

  “I know,” Max said in solidarity. “It’s ridiculous why people can’t get along.” Speak for yourself, Max. Abby and I were assholes toward Jenny too in Life I—focused on a marriage easing its way into an ice age, caught up with the white-collar suburban dream that forever seemed out of reach. Worrying more about the broken muffler on that SUV rather than a quick phone call to his sister.

  “Max, you were always her favorite.”

  Max reddened. “Come on, you know that’s not true.”

  Jenny crossed her arms. “I want my mom back. I really miss her.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Max promised. He wanted to sit down; his headache was acting up again.

  Jenny brightened visibly. “Thank you, Max.”

  Max patted Jenny’s hand. “Let me talk to Mom.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  April 26, 1997 at 9:20 p.m.

  Max took a deep breath as he picked up the receiver of the phone. He’d just arrived home exhausted after another grueling day at the hospital, when Pam, with baby Kyle squirming in her arms, told him that his mom just called.

  Enough with the weeks of telephone tag. Mom must be home now, if she called not so long ago. Time to confront the long-simmering family issues head-on. Piece by piece, Life II was falling into place. He had resolved many old issues from Life I and tackled on new challenges; changing his career to a more fulfilling one, trusting Garfield to turn around his life when Max left behind a void; finally convincing Nathan to get in touch with his inner man, and choosing a wife by the name of Pamela, who was sweet and kind.

  True, there were still issues with Pamela—she wanted time with me, time I don’t have. Which she’s entitled to. And it takes a doctor to fully comprehend just how arduous a doctor’s training was—he couldn’t wait for the day he’d obtain his license. He thrived on helping patients. It was the hours and hospital bureaucracy he couldn’t stand.

  But the Bill and Mabel Thorning family needed reconciliation. He couldn’t stop his parents’ divorce, but he could try to finally heal the rift between Mabel and Jenny. After all, he’d embraced his own sister the second time around. She now showed her trust in him by seeking refuge in his house when Len had beat her. Jenny’s vote of confidence meant the world to him. In Life I, Jenny never revealed to him such family secrets… how many beatings had she suffered in the former timeline, while the old Max had chosen ignorance and indifference?

  Get on with it, Max.

  The phone rang after Max dialed his mother’s number.

  “Hi Max!” was the cheerful reply. “How’s my doctor’s doing?” He then gave her a quick wrap-up of his work at the hospital and recounted his experience with the death of an 87-year-old man who had died—on his watch—from chronic liver disease. In an emotional voice, Max recounted to his mother how this elderly patient’s adult children never came to visit while he was in the hospital for twenty-seven days. Only after his death did they come to visit; by then there was nothing left but a cold cadaver waiting in the hospital bed behind the privacy curtain.

  But he’d left out his account of a woman who came into the emergency room this morning. Her husband had hit her with a baseball bat and broke her arm. Max felt weepy for a brief second as he thought of Jenny when he ran the x-rays and saw three older fractures from the other times when this louse had beat her.

  As she listened, Mabel expressed her condolences, empathizing with Max.

  Max finished his story, taking a breath. Now time to tell my mom. How do I phrase it? He couldn’t quite fathom it, but he sensed that he was now messing up wi
th the timeline again. Before he could decide, his mom jumped in.

  “I hope you’re getting enough sleep.” His mother sounded worried. “I wanted to find out how it went with Dr. Brooks?”

  “Huh?” Max replied. He tried to recall what he had told his mother about his Chief Resident, Dr. Terry Brooks.

  “You said Dr. Brooks was giving you too much responsibility, and you were going to talk to him.”

  “Oh,” said Max, rewinding back to the conversation he’d had with Mabel last week. “As I recall, Mom, it was you who discussed me having that talk. This is the life of a resident and I can’t go to him and tell him my mother says you’re not being fair.”

  “Honey, talk to him. He should appreciate how hard you’ve been working. You need to tell him your story, take five minutes of his time, and make sure he’s in a good mood.”

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll do that.” Not! He made a mental note to never, ever complain to his mother again about his job.

  Now was a good time to pivot the conversation. “Actually, Mom, I wanted to talk to you about Jenny.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, Max, but I’m sure you have enough to handle on your own. You have a baby to look after, and—”

  “Thanks, but I want to resolve it now. Jenny can’t wait any longer, Mom.”

  “Leave it to me. Don’t worry about it, please.”

  Max sighed. The brush-offs from his mother weren’t new, but his newfound determination burned within him.

  “Mom, that’s enough. You resent her for leaving, and you’ve been punishing her ever since.”

  Mabel’s voice was icy now. “I said, leave it to me.”

  “Did you know that Jenny came to me at the hospital with bruises all over her face?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “She left Len for a few days, Mom. She came here a few weeks ago.”

  There was another silence at the other end of the line. Mabel spoke with a shaky voice. “I have to hang up now. Goodbye.”

  There was a click.

  Max’s hands were trembling as he glanced at the phone, the dial tone synchronizing with the overpowering buzz within his head.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  April 26, 1997 at 11:15 p.m.

  Max heard the phone ring in his sleep. It roused him, but he still slept on.

  Moments later, he felt Pamela pushing aggressively against his shoulder. Her severity startled him. Half asleep, he squinted up at her. She had the receiver in her hand.

  “What?” Max muttered.

  Pamela’s eyes were wide open. She covered the receiver with one hand. “Max, it’s your mother’s roommate, Rona. She sounds hysterical.”

  Max took the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Max?”

  The woman barely got out his name before releasing a mournful wail, following by heavy sobbing that was like a splash of cold water that wrenched Max out of his sleep.

  “Rona? What’s happening?” he asked urgently.

  “Max…” The voice fell back into crying. “I can’t…I…” Crying again.

  Max got out of bed and stood up, gripping the phone tightly. Pamela walked over and put her arm on his back.

  “Rona, what is it? Tell me!” Max blurted into the phone.

  There was more crying, followed by an ear-splitting wail.

  Then the line went dead.

  “Oh, my God,” muttered Pamela.

  Max ran over to the kitchen to search for his mother’s phone number. He searched frantically. Pamela followed him.

  “Please, Pamela, get out of the way!” Max was trembling as he found the number. Breathing heavily, he dialed it.

  Busy signal.

  “Damn it to hell!” Max hung up, and dialed the number again.

  Still busy.

  The beep – beep – beep bore into Max’s skull. He felt the urge to rush out of the house. He stumbled to grab his shoes and car keys.

  “Max, calm down! Just calm down!”

  One shoe still undone, Max ran over to the phone and dialed his mother’s number again. Still busy.

  “Dammit!!”

  Pamela grabbed the phone away, reading from a magnet sticker on the refrigerator.

  “What are you doing?” Max asked exasperatedly. “I already called!”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  The police answered on the ninth ring. Max inhaled deeply, listening to Pamela’s explanation. “Yes, we do have a report on a Mabel Brown,” the officer replied.

  Max snatched the phone away. He inhaled deeply, fear pouring out. “Yes?” he replied, feeling his heart beat rapidly.

  “Officers were dispatched to the scene of a two-vehicle accident—“

  “An accident?”

  “— at the eastbound ramp on Highway 40 at Mortimer. A woman named Mabel Brown was transported to Vancouver General,” the police dispatch said. There was a pause, then the officer began: “She’s in critical cond—”

  Max dropped the receiver and bolted for the door.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  April 27, 1997 at 7:47 a.m.

  Max was fighting severe drowsiness and fatigue, having taken the earliest flight from Calgary and driven a rented car to his mother’s new house. He stepped into the dark house and surveyed the living room. He glanced at a painting that his mother had brought to this house from their family home. It showed a 19th century depiction of a tall gentleman and a lady, dressed in formal outdoor attire, holding hands and strolling together in a park.

  As a child he remembered often telling his mom that the lady in the painting looked just like her.

  Without being able to stop himself at all, he broke down, sobbing.

  It took Max a moment to realize Rona had flicked on the living room lights. She raced up and hugged him, sniffling. “I’m sorry, Max, I’m really sorry…”

  They sat next to each other. Max held his head in his hands, sobbing and blinking his red eyes and trying to comprehend the enormity of the situation.

  My mom didn’t die in Life I.

  Eyes shut, his brain pounding, he groped for answers.

  Why’d I ever take this portal to the past? I should have never come here to Life II….

  “This is all my fault,” Rona sobbed beside him.

  Max wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “How can it be your fault? She died…” He paused. What a horrible word. Died. “She died in a car accident.”

  “She was in a very distraught state last night,” Rona said. “After calling you, she told me she had to take the car out to clear her mind.”

  Max’s perception of the world stood still. The breath inside him backed up like a traffic jam, threatening to end his life, as well. His brain went numb, yet continued to take in the information from Rona.

  Last night? After she called me? How?

  “She wasn’t in the right state of mind,” Rona said. “I tried to talk her out of going so late at night.”

  Max said nothing. He couldn’t. His own heart seemed as if it had stopped beating.

  “But your mom insisted. I thought it’d be a ten-minute drive. I should have stood right in front of the door and stopped her!”

  “But it was a drunk driver that killed her,” Max said without thinking, his grief and hurt and anger finding a voice. He also knew that the drunk driver died instantly upon impact.

  Rona cringed away. “I knew she was upset. I should have stopped her, done more...”

  Max put his hand on her back. He teared up again. “No, Rona. If anything, it’s my fault.” He cringed at the thought of it, and moaned shakily. And now it’s too late. She’ll never be back. He bent and rubbed his face, eyes watering with pain.Then the scared part of his mind recognized the truth of her death, and relaxed. “I’m going to Connelly’s Funeral Home,” he told her, “My mother’s there now. Dad arranged everything.”

  “I’m going with you,” Rona insisted.

  Half an hour later, Max and Rona strolled solemnl
y through the entry of the spacious, spotless funeral home. His mother was there. Lying in an open casket. She was wearing her favorite dress, an emerald green one, with a thin black leather belt and a jacket. The neckline was adorned with flower patterns. Her eyes were closed; her mouth was peaceful.

  This can’t be real, Max thought. Any moment his mother would sit up, smile at him, and declare it was business as usual. But the body in the casket didn’t move. Not even a twitch.

  His father approached, and put his arm around Max’s back. Immediately upon feeling his father’s touch, Max turned around and embraced him without saying a word.

  The three of them heard a wail at the back. It was Jenny, hair unkempt, her face deeply etched with sorrow, eyes puffy and red.

  “Mom!” Jenny cried out. She ran up to the casket, and upon seeing her mother’s body, she sank to her knees, crying.

  “My God! My God!” Jenny yelled out. “This can’t be happening!”

  She started crying again.

  Max’s head was ringing. The question pounded and pounded in his brain. If you could jump in a time machine, and go back to that night on the phone, would you do it? He waited for the answer. None came. His head swirled.

  Mom…Dead…He couldn’t believe it. He hoped his entry into Life II was just a big cosmic joke, that this was just a make-believe moment in a fictional plot, and that his beloved mom would just get up and walk to him, and that evil female Dr. Time would come out from behind the curtains and announce to him that the experiment was over and it was time to go back to Life I.

  His family left. When they were gone, Max got up and tottered to the casket, for one last look. He wished with an odd sort of certainty that she would be the one standing here, and he’d be the one who hadn’t lived any longer.

  His wish didn’t come true.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  April 29, 1997 at 2:19 p.m.

  “I’m very sorry about your mother,” Selwyn said to Max, as they stood together over the tombstone. “It should’ve been me.”