After the Silence. Rula Sinara
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had a bad dream again last night. This time, I couldn’t remember her face. I woke up so scared. I hate sleeping.
IF BEN HAD to listen one more time to the mechanical grind of “Frosty the Snowman” coming from the holiday jack-in-the-box Grandma Nina had gotten Ryan yesterday, he was going to explode. He scrubbed his hands across his short, prickly hair and dropped his fists against the kitchen table. A tangerine tumbled off the edge of the centered fruit basket and rolled onto the chair next to him. This was pointless. Who in the blasted universe could think through all that noise?
The laptop screen switched to screen-saver mode. He’d been staring at it that long without touching a key. He shoved his chair back and marched into the family room, where Chad, kneeling on the carpet in front of Ryan’s bouncy seat, was gearing up to crank that Jack Snowman again. Maddie was curled up against a sofa pillow watching some show starring rainbow-colored ponies that was set loud enough to drown her brothers out. The place looked as though toys had attacked by air, land and sea. And a friend of the real Jack was flying in today.
That was likely the reason he was irritable. That and the phone call from Maddie’s teacher letting him know that Maddie needed to be picked up at the nurse’s office and asking if he could return after school let out for a conference—especially since he’d missed the routine parent-teacher conferences scheduled at the beginning of the month. All in one day. The teacher meeting meant that he’d have to head straight to the airport from the school. Which had forced him to call Nina to see if she wouldn’t mind coming over to watch the kids. She’d jumped at the opportunity. Zoe’s mom had her heart in the right place, but he was about to get bombarded with the implied “you’re doing this all wrong” and “we know what your kids need more than you do” from all angles—his mother-in-law and the school. With his bad luck, this Hope person would add her two cents to the pot.
He’d blasted the idea of anyone living in his house to help. He was managing just fine. Most of the time. Even now, the idea of having a stranger underfoot, on top of everything else, didn’t sit well. However, Jack had made an effective point. Having live-in help would mean that he could focus more on developing his security-business plan. Plus, his mother-in-law would back off a little—or, as Jack put it, “worry less”—and see that he had everything under control. Maybe she’d get used to not hovering. Likewise, Ben wouldn’t keep enabling the situation by having to call her for emergencies. He’d resisted a few weeks ago, when Ryan had come down with another ear infection on parent-teacher conference day, a decision that was biting him today. In any case, if this Hope got on his nerves, then he could have her stay at his in-laws and keep them occupied from over there. Nina loved guests. Either way, he’d have more control...and some quiet time to sort things out in terms of work.
“Hey, guys,” Ben called over the exasperating ruckus. No reaction. He put two fingers between his lips and blew.
Maddie turned her cheek against the pillow and frowned at him before taking her time to pause her video. Chad stopped midcrank and looked up, and Ryan stared wide-eyed with his little hands securing his feet tight against his belly. Ben took the snowman from Chad, stuffed it into the box and snapped the lid with the sense of relief one got from defusing a bomb. This stay-at-home-dad stuff was really messing with his mind.
“That’s better. Mads, keep that down, would you?”
She aimed the remote at her brothers and pretended to lower their volume. Silent sarcasm. A bit of silence was exactly what he wanted, except from Maddie. He’d change a hundred stench-drenched diapers if it meant she’d say something. Anything, other than the sounds of crying or the shrill, closed-mouth scream she did when she’d been pushed too far.
He had no doubt the parent-teacher conference he had to leave for in a few hours was going to be about just that. Again. The school nurse had shown him Maddie’s handwritten note. One word: headache. They all knew there was more to it. Frustration twisted the muscles in his shoulders, and he cranked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said to Maddie. “Chad, pick up some of these toys before Grandma gets here. A dime a dunk.”
He was not above bribery. After Zoe was killed, one of the school moms had stopped to check on him in the parking lot and had begun spewing advice. She’d assured him that bribery was a parent’s secret weapon. Everyone used it. Not everyone admitted to it.
Chad immediately began tossing toys into the giant wicker basket by the couch. Unfortunately, each dunk came with a creative sound effect, and his four-year-old had gifted lungs. Maddie slammed a second pillow over her ear as she zoned out in front of the TV.
Ben grabbed a chewable and slobber-proof picture book, gave it to Ryan and set his bouncy seat near Maddie. Yes, he’d resorted to the television babysitter a couple of times, but all those colors had to have some visual-stimulation benefits. Right?
“I’ll tell you what, man. How about you help me inflate a bed? You can push the button on the pump motor. It’s really loud.”
A superhero landed headfirst on the floor near the basket. Ouch.
“How loud?” Chad asked, wrapping one knee around the other as though he was holding it in.
“Jet-fighter loud.” Anything loud served as bribery with this kid.
“Like this?” The ensuing screech from Chad had Maddie pounding the pillow on her ear, Ryan whimpering and Ben wincing. It wasn’t going to take long for this Hope person to flee to Nina’s house.
“How about you go use the bathroom and meet me in your room to find out?”
“Okay!”
At least getting Chad in a different room would give Maddie some peace.
The doorbell rang, sending Ben’s nerves prickling up his spine like a row of merciless fire ants, a reaction that hadn’t subsided since Zoe’s death.
He rolled his shoulders and went to let Nina in. He’d specifically told her he’d leave the door unlocked, but apparently she’d forgotten.
He found her standing there with a big cardboard box in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I had to use my elbow on the doorbell. This box is a little heavy,” Nina said as she bustled past him. His nose twitched from an ambush of fruity hairspray.
Ben took the box from her and escaped to the kitchen. Nina made a beeline for the baby, after hanging her coat on the wooden rack by the door.
“So what’s in the box?” Ben said, closing his laptop and stacking his notes on top, then setting them in the cabinet under the microwave. Zoe’s mother did not need to see any of it.
“Oh, just some holiday decorations Zoe had stored in our basement because your garage was getting too full. I put a tin of chocolate-chip cookies on top. Go ahead and pull it out so you don’t forget,” she said. She unclipped Ryan and hugged him close to her shoulder, then slathered him with kisses and singsong words Ben couldn’t make out.
He pulled a red tin decorated with elves and snowflakes out of the box, noted the rest of the contents and quickly slapped the flaps of cardboard back in place.
“Not happening,” he said.
“Shh. Maddie’s asleep on the couch,” Nina said, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen with Ryan in her arms. Her lips tightened. “Zoe’s favorite thing to do was to decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s in just over a week.”
“It’s not happening this year, Nina, so feel free to keep the decorations.” He carried the box back to the entryway and set it under the coatrack so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. She followed him.
“Let the kids have some fun, Ben. It could cheer Maddie up.”
He looked at the half-tidied living room.
“I’d say they’re having plenty of fun already. And no, I don’t think it’ll cheer Maddie up. We’re not decorating this year. They can enjoy the decorations at your