Fiction
In God’s Time – Finale
“Conchita.” Her mother called from inside the apartment and walked out onto the balcony. “I found something.” Mom held up the God Box Dad had given Conchita 10 years before. “Remember this.”
Conchita had given it back to Dad several years ago. She had felt he needed it more than she did.
Maria handed it to her. “He wanted you to have it back.” They walked back inside the apartment. Conchita took the box and retreated into her room.
She opened the box. The box was full of small slips of paper. Some were doubled; others folded in a wad. Some were torn and had ripped edges; others neatly snipped. There were a few yellow slips, a few were thick note card pieces, but most were written on white, notebook paper.
First, she opened the yellow one. The note was written in cursive in red ink: Please keep Conchita happy.
Then she opened the second, written on a note card. The writing was small in barely legible print: Please don’t let Conchita be like me.
She felt the sting of the sentiment, her eyes filling with tears. She wasn’t sure if she could keep on reading. She wiped her tears with her hand, her nose stinging with emotion. She was determined to continue. She opened another note.
Don’t let Conchita suffer . . . Give me the strength to provide for Conchita.
She dumped the rest of the notes onto her bed and opened them one by one. All the notes were about her. She knew Dad cared, but the notes reminded her just how much. She put the notes back inside the box and closed it. Hope was still inside.
In God’s Time – Part 11
The funeral was over, and Maria and Conchita pulled into the Arlington Heights apartment complex.
They’d moved into the apartment after Conchita graduated from high school. They had less square footage than they did at their previous apartment, but they were also paying less in rent. Maria was working at the Arlington public library, and since Eric had been drawing on disability, they were living from paycheck to paycheck.
The brick high rise was 12 stories; their apartment was on the 10th floor. On a clear day Conchita often gazed at the monuments and the National Cathedral.
Once they got home, Conchita changed into some jeans and stepped out onto the balcony. She surveyed the cloudless, blue sky and the horizon. The wind blew the tress of her hair and cooled her face. She gazed down at the swimming pool below. She leaned against the railing of the balcony.
So easy, she thought. Painless. We’d be together then. Somewhere in hell according to Father Liuzzo, but this is hell.
She rocked back on her heels and held the railing, closing her eyes. She imagined the fall down and shuddered in fear.
In God’s Time – Part 10
He’d called her his final night alive and left a message on her answering machine. “Hey, Chita, it’s your old man. Just wanted to tell you I love you and am missing you. I hope you’re doing all right. I’m praying for you.”
He’d seemed like he was doing so much better—no trace of sadness in his voice; then again, he always tried to hide his depression.
Seeing her father lying in his casket during the viewing, Conchita couldn’t help but look at him. His face was tanned as if he’d been at the beach in Brazil. He’d told her his boyhood stories of going to the beaches. “Chita, my buddies and I’d go to all the topless beaches. You should’ve seen your mom, well, maybe not, but I sure enjoyed it. She had the finest body.”
He was wearing the dress suit she’d helped him pick out when she was home over Thanksgiving break her freshman year. It was a wool, charcoal-gray suit with silver pin stripes. “I’m not going to look like George Bush in this monkey suit am I?” He’d asked.
“Don’t worry, Dad, there’s no danger of anyone electing you president.” They laughed while the sales clerk walked away with the measuring tape around his neck.
She took her eyes off him and looked at the black casket—the top open—lined with white stuffed nylon. She closed her eyes holding back tears.
To Conchita, the viewing felt like the opening of Pandora’s box: every negative emotion her father ever felt escaped from his casket, and buried itself inside her. Except the one thing Pandora trapped, hope, was going to be buried with her father.
In God’s Time – Part 9
1989
Conchita promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She greeted a small gathering of people during the viewing but was unable to smile. We’re so sorry . . . He’ll be missed . . . He was such a passionate man, they said; their words dug into her chest, heaving in spasms of repressed grief.
Some of Conchita’s friends had come but not by Conchita’s invitation. Her roommate Leslie must have told them, Conchita thought. Conchita had only told Leslie.
She frowned at Leslie pouring herself a cup of punch across the room. Great, just what Conchita needed. There were already too many drama queens at school who feasted on other people’s misery. Add her misery to the list.
During the funeral service, Conchita glared at the priest from the front row. He droned on about pathos when he was pathetic and full of it.
God doesn’t recognize suicide, Father Liuzzo had told Mom when she was in his office begging him to perform the ceremony. She spent three hours trying to convince him; finally he agreed. Dad had been an altar boy and never gave up on the church. Conchita clenched her teeth in anger at the memory.
Maria put her arm around Conchita and tried to draw her nearer.
Conchita frowned and shrugged her Mom off, still upset with her for not telling Conchita the details of how she’d found him or what the note had said. Mom only said he’d left a brief note.
Conchita had argued with her: Why can’t you tell me what it said? You think it doesn’t hurt already? You owe it to me, to him, to tell me.
If only Conchita hadn’t gone out that night with her friends.
In God’s Time – Part 8
After a few moments, Eric appeared, grinning. As he entered the day room, Maria put her arms across Conchita’s chest and held her tightly; she wanted to protect Conchita; Maria wasn’t sure what to expect.
She hoped for Conchita’s sake her Christmas would be a memorable one for the right reasons.
“It’s Chita Chita Bang Bang and Santa Maria,” he said. “Ho ho ho.” He arched his shoulders back and rubbed his belly.
Conchita shrugged Maria off. “Da-ad. You’re so silly.” Conchita handed him his present. “Here we got you something. Go ahead open it.”
Eric looked the package over, started smelling it, and then tasted the wrapper.
“Dad, you’re supposed to open it,” Conchita said.
“Oh,” he said. “Like this.” He tore into the package, opened the box then held up his gift. “It’s a sweater! Thanks Chita.” He looked up at Maria.
“Merry Christmas,” Maria said.
“And a Happy New Year.” He set his sweater on a table covered with an unfinished puzzle then held out his arms. Maria haltingly approached. Eric embraced her and Conchita wiggled in between like she always did. Eric quickly let go. “You haven’t seen any elves around here have you?”
“No,” Conchita responded.
“Well, one of Santa’s helpers brought me something last night, and it’s in my room. Let’s see if we can find it.” Eric and Conchita raced off . . . Maria lingered behind. Nurse Molly approached.
“He seems to be doing a little bit better today,” Molly said.
“Yes. He does,” Maria said. There was a squeal from down the hall. It was Conchita. She ran back to Maria. Eric sauntered up behind Conchita.
“Hey, Mom. Look what Dad got me.” Conchita held up a blue, wooden box. Conchita turned to Eric. “What did you say it was Dad?”
“It’s a God Box,” he said. “Any time you’re having a problem, write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the box. Give it a little while, open the box, and read your note. Then, you’ll see how God has helped you with your problem.”
In God’s Time – Part 7
They arrived at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop on Christmas Day at 9:07 AM. The stop was twenty minutes from their home in Arlington. There was little traffic in D.C. Christmas Day, but finding a parking place was always tenuous so Maria decided to take the Metro.
Maria handed Conchita the gift they’d wrapped together. Conchita sprinted ahead to the escalator steps.
“Conchita, slow down and hold onto the rail.”
“I know, Mom!”
Conchita shifted the box underneath her left arm and held onto the railing with her right.
Maria caught up with Conchita, put an arm around her, and rode up the escalator steps to the street.
Maria and Conchita made their way into the 5 South Unit of George Washington Hospital. Once inside, they paged the nursing station for admittance into the unit.
A voice came on the intercom, “Yes?”
Maria spoke up. “We’re here to see Eric Jones. His wife and daughter are here to see him.”
The door unlocked, and Maria pulled it open.
They made their way down the long hallway of the unit, a dorm of sorts, with satellite rooms on the left where the patients stayed. At the nurses’ station, halfway down the hall, a gray-haired nurse looked up from pushing paper.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Jones. Hey Conchita. Are ya’ll having a nice Christmas?”
Maria answered. “Under the circumstances, we’re doing all right.”
“Good,” the nurse said. “Let me go get Eric. He was down in his room the last time I checked.”
In God’s Time – Part 5
After Maria and Conchita got home from the hospital, Maria tucked Conchita in her yellow and white plaid, canopy bed. Maria took one last look at Conchita and closed the door behind her, the cover to the canopy lifting and then sagging back down, like a sail rippling in the wind.
Maria wearily made her way into her bedroom she shared with Eric. She went inside her walk-in closet, and on her tiptoes gathered Conchita’s big, surprise, Christmas gift from the top of the closet. She had wrapped all the other gifts except the monumental offering, a Sony tape recorder. Conchita loved music, and Maria and Eric had always encouraged this interest.
Each Christmas, Maria always tried to stay within her budget, especially the last five years, now that finances had gotten tighter. Conchita’s first several Christmases, Maria had overspent.
She wanted the best for Conchita, and in Maria’s mind, the most expensive gifts somehow compensated for Maria’s insecurities about having to work all the time and not spending enough time with Conchita.
Her budget of $150 per Christmas was modest, but she was able to stretch it as best she could. She found Conchita’s favorite gifts were the ones that cultivated Conchita’s interests. This year it was the TR6 Sony tape recorder.
In God’s Time – Part 4
Just as dad stuck out his tongue at Conchita, the automatic doors jerked open and Conchita’s Mom stepped out into the cold. Against the cold, Mom raised her shoulders, tucked her head beneath the collar of her coat, and closed the flap on her double-breasted winter coat.
Conchita wasn’t sure why Mom had gone inside the hospital apart from Dad and her. All she knew was that Mom was supposed to talk to Dad’s doctors about getting Dad out of the hospital.
“Chita, run, here comes the wicked witch of the west on the chilly, west wind.” Eric raised his arms, drawing his hands back, wiggling his fingers as if he were casting a spell on Mom. “Hello, my pretty.” Eric narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.
“OK, Conchita, we need to get back.” Mom ignored Dad, approached Conchita, and put her arm around her back.
“Noooo. I’m melting.” Dad dropped to the ground and fell on his back. Dad’s sweatshirt lifted up so that his stomach showed.
Conchita laughed then looked at Mom, knowing Mom wouldn’t approve. Mom looked over at the nurse assigned to Dad. “We’ve got to go.”
Dad quickly got to his feet and stood still as if frozen. “Look, it’s Mona Lisa. Never an emotion.” Dad pointed to Conchita. “Chita, my dear, thou musteth depart.”
The nurse reached for Dad’s arm. “Eric, it’s time to go back to the unit.”
“Unhand me you damn fool. I’m going to kiss my daughter good night.” Dad bent down and whispered to Conchita. “Santa Claus is a mystery, and I’m history.”
He kissed her on the forehead and looked up at Maria. “Are you leaving so soon, without your broom?” Mom bent down in front of Conchita, rewrapped Conchita’s scarf more snugly, and they left.
Dad waved goodbye in his bathroom slippers.
In God’s Time – Part 3
Dad looked as if he was enjoying a weekend away from the office. He had a couple days beard that matched his Robert Redford, honey-colored hair. He had a slender build—except his bulging belly.
Dad liked lying on the couch eating pint after pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Conchita teased him about his stomach, but not too much, sometimes he got a little touchy about it.
Conchita wasn’t too sure why she was at the hospital. Dad had been acting kind of strange lately and was hospitalized at George Washington University Hospital a week ago.
Her mom called it a nude disorder and said Conchita’s Dad had to stay on the grounds as a nurse watched over him.
Conchita never could understand what was wrong with taking your clothes off. Sure you couldn’t take off your clothes and run around the neighborhood, but Dad never did that. He just acted kind of strange sometimes and slept a lot.
Just as dad stuck his tongue out at Conchita, the automatic doors jerked open and Conchita’s Mom stepped out into the cold.
Against the cold, Mom raised her shoulders, tucked her head beneath the collar of her coat, and closed the flap on her double-breasted winter coat. Conchita wasn’t sure why Mom had gone inside the hospital apart from Dad and her. All she knew was that Mom was supposed to talk to Dad’s doctors about getting Dad out of the hospital.
In God’s Time – Part 2
1979
The blue neon sign outside the hospital glowed, with the yellow text, “George Washington Hospital” neatly framed inside. Beneath the sign stood four, rectangular, brick pillars, two flanking each side of the relief of the massive, red brick hospital’s main entrance.
Circling the base of the pillars and chattering like two small school children, Conchita and her father Eric giggled while a nurse, bundled in a black fishermen’s coat, stood looking on in the biting, winter cold.
“Look, Dad, I’m smoking,” nine year-old, Conchita, held her two fingers to her lips, inhaled and then exhaled cold air in white wisps of hot air.
Her father Eric laughed, took a pull from his cigarette, and blew smoke through his nose in short, blustery, bursts. “No, look, Chita, through the nose is best. No boy in his right mind would kiss you if he smelled smoke on your breath.”
“Da-ad.” Conchita admonished him, then immediately pictured herself kissing Robert Kramer, the dreamboat president of her sixth grade class. One day at school in the lunch line, a couple of boys had called her Big Bird, because she was so much taller than everyone else in her grade.
Robert had rushed to her defense. “They’re just jealous they aren’t taller. By the way,” he casually said. “I am, too.” He gazed into her eyes, his aqua, green eyes twinkling back at her.
Robert was almost a full head shorter than she, but that didn’t bother her. So, whenever she heard the Hall and Oates song, “Your Kiss Is On My List,” she imagined Robert Kramer grabbing her passionately and kissing her. His kiss was definitely number one on her list, and she’d play the forty-five with the song on it until her Mom came in her room to tell her to turn the music down.
He’d definitely need a stool though.
At 12 years-old Conchita was 5’4”. She’d gotten her height from her father, but her coloring was definitely her mother’s, darkened hair and eyes. “Your eyes are like the exciting nights in Sal Paulo, Brazil,” her father once said when he was in a good mood.
Now, Conchita watched her Dad finish his cigarette and stub it against one of the brick pillars.
Conchita shook from the bitter cold. “Dad, can we go back inside now?”
Eric pulled out another cigarette. “The Marlboro Man isn’t finished rounding up his cattle. In fact, it’s time for a cattle drive.” He stooped down, held his hands in front of him, pushing them forward, and ran after Conchita squealing in delight.