Chapter 9 (continued)

Allison changed lanes to pass a slower car. There had been other guys besides Glen. There had been a handful actually, though Glen had proved to be the only certifiably creepy guy of the bunch. Most of the others were nice and had moved in and out of her life with a minimum of tragedy. Okay, so at the time it had been a major ordeal, but looking back she had no hard feelings.

Her senior prom was picture perfect. She went with a large group of friends, everyone amicably paired off and they shared a limo and finished the night crashed together in a friend's family room with a string of movies. At the time there was an eerie similarity to Glen, but the entire feeling was different, gathered with a crowd of close friends. She felt safe and snuggled with her date, a guy named Johnson, Seth Johnson, but somehow everyone called him Johnson. It didn't make any sense in Minnesota where Johnsons were as common as automobiles.

Seth had been a good friend and it was more a date of convenience, so they could have fun with their friends and enjoy the spectacle that is prom. There were no expectations of anything more.

Allison's mom liked Seth. After Glen she was more protective than usual, though she tried not to let it show. But she genuinely liked Seth. Allison met with Seth a few times after graduation, during that last summer before college. They could have been called dates, but they seemed so insignificant, just trips to a fast food joint or a coffee shop.

Seth was heading to Notre Dame in the fall, and Allison had no illusions about a long distance relationship, even if things did get interesting between the two. But the romantic fires were cool and slow, if ever, to warm between the two. They were good friends, and whenever they had coffee or met for a burger it seemed to silly to make more of it than it really was.

Last she'd talked to him he'd dated a few college girls and didn't come home last summer. Last summer Allison lived at home, working at the local library and at the same time dreading and hoping for the start of school. Living at home again after a year away was a rough transition. Her body was on a different schedule and she was just getting going when everyone else was slowing down. She remembered several late night conversations with her mom around the kitchen table when her energy was just building and her mom had long since peaked.

Allison would be bubbly, unable to sit still, occasionally getting up and sitting down again, or hopping on to the counter top. Her mom would be in her bathrobe, all but ready for bed, usually a cup of tea in her hands, keeping her hands warm.

Those conversations were gone. She could hardly remember what they talked about. Boys, certainly. Her mom would talk about Schmitty or her father or the gossip from the extended family or what was happening at work. She would subtlety push for details from Allison, wondering how college life was really going, wondering if there really weren't any new guys, wondering what would become of her daughter. Some days Allison would be cooperative and give her mom a glimpse of her new life, but other times Allison would be protective and want to keep things to herself. Her mom never pushed too hard.

She took the familiar exit and several turns to her neighborhood and street. Turning down her street had a strangely otherworld feel. She hadn't been home since school started, and the memories were flooding in. She parked in the driveway and sat in the car for a moment, the engine humming as it cooled. She wasn't crying yet. She knew she would as soon as she walked inside, but for now she had her composure.

She opened the door and stepped out of the car.

"Hey." She turned to see her brother at the bottom of the driveway. Schmitty looked like he'd grown a foot. His eyes looked dark and bloodshot, but he was smiling.

"Hey there, Messerschmidt." The siblings embraced there on the driveway in front of their childhood home.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah. I just had to take a walk. I've been doing that a lot lately."

"Is dad all right?"

"You know dad. Sometimes he seems like nothing happened, other times he's wound way too tight and ready to explode."

"I better go say hi." Together they went inside. A wave of senses hit Allison when she walked in the front door, though seeing her brother outside had helped prepare her. More than anything there was a smell of home, a smell that reminded her deeply of her mother. She tried not to look at the pictures hanging in the entryway.

Her dad sat at the kitchen table, his back to them, leaning over a pile of papers.

"Hi daddy." He turned around and she could see the pain and grief in his face fade and he smiled, for the first time in days. Allison hugged her dad, clinging to him both for his sake and hers. Tears were inevitable, but they were joyful tears.

Later that afternoon she heard more details about the aftermath of death than she cared to know. Her father was swimming in insurance forms, funeral plans, and all the rest. She could see he was near the breaking point, but when she offered to help he declined.

"No, Allison, I need to go through this. If I need you or Mitch for something I'll ask."

"You sure, this doesn't look like it's very easy on you."

"No, it's not easy. But it shouldn't be. I need to feel… I don't know, some closure or finality or something. And these lifeless forms and minor details somehow help."

She saw her father in a new light after that day. He had always seemed somewhat disconnected. Some what aloof. Details were certainly his thing. He thrived on covering details, like Allison's school loans and the massive piles of college paperwork, or her car insurance or making sure the oil was changed every three months. It seemed only fitting that he'd deal with his wife's death by arranging every last detail of the aftermath.

"Well, if you need anything…"

"I will."

His seeming composure gave Allison a chance to head upstairs to her room. It was much the way she'd left it, half empty and strange since she'd left for college, but still thoroughly hers. She sat on the bed and looked around, feeling a quiet sadness. It wasn't crushing or overwhelming or heart wrenching. It was just quiet. She just sat there and felt it, letting it be there as she remembered her life in this house, in this room, and her mom.