Surfacing
Part 12
By Lauren
Coolness seeped in through Drew’s haze, penetrating her bones and making her teeth chatter. It was so cold that she couldn’t stand it, and she tried desperately to awaken, to ask the nurse or Ray for a blanket. But she couldn't awaken, and instead felt herself pulled again, down, down, into the recesses of her memory.
She found herself in front of the imposing Santos mansion, goosebumps dotting her skin, her lightweight coat doing nothing to keep out the frigid February air. She recognized the date to be two days after Jesse had died; she remembered the bright purple and orange sunset as she stood on the doorstep. Drew rang the bell twice in succession, then stood back and waited, shifting from one foot to another, folding her arms and unfolding them.
Finally, Deitz came to the door. “Hiya, Deitz,” Drew said, managing a false smile. Her insides were numb, and not just because of the cold. She’d been numb and unfeeling since the heart monitor in Jesse’s hospital room had gone flat. Her attitude, however, had increased fourfold; she was even more cynical than usual and had a biting comeback for everything.
Deitz scrutinized her, then growled in his low, raspy voice, “Michelle is asleep.”
“I’m not here to see Michelle,” Drew clarified, pushing past him and into the foyer. “Is Danny here?”
Scowling, Deitz said, “Yes, Danny is in the kitchen.” With that, he walked off, leaving Drew all alone in the frightening Santos house.
“Kitchen, kitchen, kitchen,” Drew breathed, her eyes scanning the room warily. The door to the right lead into an office; the door to the left lead upstairs. “Kitchen.”
She finally decided on the door to the left, biting her tongue between her teeth, praying that Carmen wasn’t inside. She lucked out, her one break in the last few months: Carmen was nowhere in sight. She tried a few doors, to no avail, and finally found herself in the cavernous kitchen. It was amazing: all wood and brick, with a stone fireplace, which was spitting embers, that reached from floor to ceiling on one side of the room. There was a table next to the fireplace. Danny was seated there, a yellow number two pencil bitten between his teeth, papers spread out in front of him. He looked different than normal; Drew noted that he was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a green plaid button-down shirt.
“Ahem,” Drew said, her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets.
Danny looked up lazily, raising an eyebrow when he saw Drew standing before him. “Miss Jacobs,” Danny said around the pencil. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Drew blinked her eyes. “I need some help with something.”
“I thought you were above accepting handouts from the so-called Mafia,” Danny said with a smirk, taking the pencil from his teeth and scribbling on a form.
“Not monetary help,” Drew specified with narrowed eyes. “I need to talk to your priest-cousin person, and I figured that you would be able to help me find him.”
Danny looked up, fixing a cool gaze on her eyes. “You might want to try St. Michael’s, you know.”
Drew rolled her eyes. “I’ve already been to the church, and he was nowhere to be found.”
“And why do you want to see my cousin?” Danny asked. “And do you even know his name?”
“It’s about Jesse’s funeral,” Drew shot back. “And no, I don’t know his name. But I do know that he is a priest.”
“You’re not Catholic,” Danny observed with a furrowed brow. “Why would you want a priest to bury your fiancé?”
“I’m Jewish,” Drew replied tightly. “But Jesse wasn’t, and I don’t feel comfortable with having him buried in a Jewish ceremony.”
“But you do feel comfortable with him being buried as a Catholic. Tell me, exactly what was Jesse?” Danny asked with a lilt.
“Jesse was…he never declared a religion. I don’t know if he was baptized or anything,” Drew responded. “I was hoping that, since we’re friends, Ray could do a nice little non-denominational burial.”
“Since you’re friends,” Danny repeated mockingly. “You didn’t even know his name five minutes ago!”
Drew glared at him. “Just give me his phone number,” she ordered.
Danny smirked. “I’ll be happy to,” he replied, standing up from his chair and walking over to a set of cabinets. He opened a drawer underneath the counter and pulled out a small brown-leather book. Opening it, he leafed through a few pages before hitting on what he wanted. He brought the book back over to the table, tore off a corner of a piece of notebook paper, and wrote down the number.
“Is Michelle around?” Drew asked as Danny handed her the slip of paper.
“She was asleep upstairs last time I checked on her,” Danny explained, sitting back down and continuing his work. “Her back was killing her this morning.”
“Well, then, do you mind if I use your phone?” Drew asked. “I want to get this call over with.”
“Yeah, since you’ll be chatting with such a good friend,” Danny smirked.
Drew felt her blood begin to boil. “You know, I really don’t know what the hell your problem is,” she seethed.
“Excuse me?” Danny asked, his eyes glinting. “My problem?”
“You’re so willing to condescend to me,” Drew said with a sour expression on her face. “Look at your life at present, and look at mine. You have a wife that you love more than anything and a baby on the way. The man I was going to marry is dead.”
“Yes, trust me, Drew, I know that Jesse is dead. I also know that you’ve reminded me that Jesse is dead about six hundred times since it happened. I was there, Drew. I know that Jesse Blue is dead. I’m sorry if I fail to have unwavering compassion for someone who over-dramatizes a death.”
“Over-dramatizing a death, eh? Eat your words, Santos. Don’t you remember Mick? You stalked us for months over your brother’s death. Months! Jesse has been dead for two days, and I’m not allowed to mourn him?”
“You’re treading a fine line, saying things like that in this house, Drew,” Danny warned, his eyes steely and cold.
“Uh-huh, that’s the other thing. You berate me and ridicule me, and all the while you’re looking past what’s going on in this house, in this world of yours.”
“What does my family have to do with any of this?” Danny asked coldly.
“You talk down to me, you’re so righteous. But I’ll bet you anything that the paperwork in front of you right now has something to do with Griffin Williams’s case. And not only that, but also with the time you were shot in November.”
Danny’s eyes were wide. Drew mirrored his earlier smirk and continued, “Don’t even tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know that there’s something going down with this family, and Marah Lewis is in the thick of it. I don’t know if you’re responsible, or if Carmen is, or what, but I know that you and Michelle are continuing to live in this hell hole, while you know that both she and the baby are in danger as long as they’re here!”
“Get out,” Danny seethed, his words forceful and quiet.
“Not without some answers. Michelle has become a friend of mine, and I worry. Does this have something to do with all the Spaulding trouble I’ve been reading about in the Journal lately? Something to do with the fact that they filed for bankruptcy a few months ago and then suddenly got back on their feet?”
“Don’t presume to know what is going on in my family!” Danny shouted, completely unnerving Drew as he stood and slammed his fist on the table, making his pencils and paper jump. Flashing before her eyes was the Danny she first encountered at Millennium after Mick died. I was under the impression that this Danny was dead and buried, too, Drew thought. “Get out of this house, and do it now! Go jump in front of a truck somewhere and be with your precious Jesse Blue!”
Drew felt tears behind her eyes, but somehow managed to keep a cool façade. “Fine, Danny, I’ll leave. But I still need to use your phone.”
Danny’s fists were balled up and his arms hung rigidly at his sides as he burned a hole in Drew’s forehead with his angry, blazing eyes. “Use the phone in the dining room,” he ordered, his voice calm. “Just get out of my sight. And remember where you are, and who you are dealing with.”
She couldn’t decide if she should laugh or cry, so she nodded mutely and fled from the room, her feet leading her straight to a dining room she’d never encountered before. An old-fashioned princess telephone rested regally on a polished end table, watched over by a beautiful oil portrait that Drew recognized as a Monet. Her hands shaking, she picked up the receiver and gently pressed it to her ear. To her surprise, she didn’t hear a dial tone on the line, but instead two familiar voices.
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Dahlia’s voice rang out, tinny and unnaturally pitched over the phone line.
“I know what you mean,” Michelle agreed. “I feel like I’m having a huge nightmare. This cannot be happening.”
“You know, for the first time in my life, I almost feel sorry for Drew,” Dahlia stated.
“God, I can’t imagine being in her shoes right now,” Michelle said, “having the man you love die. I mean, there was Zachary, but I don’t know if he died, and I don’t think I loved him. But, God, if Danny died…”
“Michelle, you know that Danny’s not going to up and die tomorrow,” Dahlia comforted.
“But you’re wrong,” Michelle corrected. “I don’t know that he won’t die tomorrow, or this afternoon for that matter. We came home last night, and I felt like I’d been ripped in two. All I could do was make love to him, and thank God that it wasn’t him that I said goodbye to in that hospital room.”
Dahlia sighed. “How’s Drew handling it?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her since I saw her at the hospital. I’m afraid she’s going to do something stupid, but I don’t know what to say to her. I mean, what can I say? Sorry your fiancé died? Sorry he was my ex-boyfriend, and I was the last person he spoke to? Sorry my life is going well and I’m expecting a baby with my husband? I’m really, really sorry, but I think you’re going to make a dumb move and I just wanted to tell you not to? I can’t do that.”
“This is so strange,” Dahlia said. “Come on, we’re twenty-four years old. This isn’t supposed to happen to people our age!”
Drew closed her eyes briefly. Michelle and Dahlia’s words made her want to scream angrily and break down crying at the same time.
“Let’s change the subject,” Michelle requested, her voice wavering.
“Okay…good idea,” Dahlia agreed. “Hey, did your dad ever call you back?”
“Yeah, I talked to him on Sunday,” Michelle replied. “He’s coming home in two weeks, so he can be here when the baby’s born.”
“Refresh my memory here, he’s never met Danny, right?” Dahlia asked.
Michelle sighed. “Right. So not only am I going to have an infant on my hands, I’ll also have a brother and father who will most likely be warring with my husband.”
“Just keep Ed away from Rick, and Danny should be safe for a while,” Dahlia said lightly.
“Yeah, I’ll lock Dad up in Rick’s favorite padded cell in the psych ward at Cedars,” Michelle remarked sarcastically.
Dahlia chuckled lightly. “Hey, speaking of phone calls from your family members, guess who called me last week?”
“Uh…well, the only member of my family that I can think of would be Andy.”
“Nope. But you’re in the right branch of the family tree.”
“It isn’t Andy’s dad, is it? I mean, I don’t really know why Uncle Jim would feel the need to call you, but you never know…”
“You aren’t even close. Try your Aunt Chelsea,” Dahlia clarified.
“Aunt Chelsea? Did she know anything about that audition?” Michelle asked.
“It wasn’t about that. She’s coming back to Springfield, and she’s going to reopen Hamp’s old nightclub. She wants me to be the featured singer. She’s sort of taking me under her wing.”
Nightclub? Drew’s shrewd business mind screamed. Competition was never good in Springfield. Company was killing her business already.
“Ooh, how exciting. Showbiz life. An old married woman like myself can’t even comprehend.”
Dahlia snickered. “It makes me glad that I’m not being mature and old like you and settling down. And speaking of settling down, how’s my godchild doing?”
“You know, it’s really strange, but I think the baby knows that something’s not right with me,” Michelle said. “It’s been kicking and squirming around all morning, and of course it found one of the nerves in my back to take a nap on. I feel like my spinal cord is going to snap.”
Dahlia laughed, and Drew cringed. Laughter was abusive to her ears at this point. “So I take it he or she is doing okay, then.”
“Looks like it. I went in for a check up on the thirteenth, and the doctors still can’t figure out what went wrong. But Dr. Sedwick did an ultrasound, and Danny just about flipped out. He’s so excited. It’s so cute.”
Michelle, if you only knew, Drew thought sadly. She gently laid the phone back in its cradle, and walked out of the dining room.
Danny was still in the kitchen, but instead of sitting at the table working, he was standing at the sink, looking out the window at the black night. Drew stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and he turned around quickly.
“Did you get a hold of Ray?” he asked, his voice low and soft.
“No, I didn’t,” Drew replied truthfully. “I’m going to call him from home.”
Danny nodded. “Listen, Drew, I’m sorry about blowing up before. I know you’ve had a hard time lately, and—“
“Don’t worry about it,” Drew dismissed, her mind drifting back a few moments to Michelle’s words: “He’s so excited. It’s so cute.” Instead of the ruthless Danny she had experienced before, Drew saw him for what she believed he truly was: a man who loved his wife and child, but who also couldn’t turn his back on his family. In that moment, her sympathy merged with her grief, and she barely escaped the Santos house before she began to cry.
She ran down the front lawn, tears blinding her, to her car, and drove off into the night. She thought it a miracle that she made it home.
A few days later, she was at the funeral. Ray stood over Jesse’s casket in the Springfield Cemetery, reading words that had nothing to do with Catholicism or Judaism, but with God. Drew didn’t cry, but Michelle did. She sagged against Danny, who looked at the scene with a chilling familiarity. Marah stood stoically in the back of the small group, flanked by Andy on one side and Ben on the other.
Familiar names jumped out as Drew surveyed the surrounding gravestones: Jenna Bradshaw Cooper, Nadine Cooper, Ben Warren, Hart Jessup, Max’s mom, Dorothy, and one heartbreaking name, one to which Michelle’s eyes kept gluing themselves. Maureen Reardon Bauer…
Drew’s eyes flew back to Michelle’s face, which was red, her eyes mottled with tears. Danny had one arm around her waist, and the other resting on her stomach. His cheek was rested against her wild curls, and his eyes seemed far away. He’s probably remembering Mick’s funeral, Drew thought with disgust. Or, maybe, she wondered, his father’s. And Michelle, Michelle’s burying her mother again.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Ray whispered, glancing down on the casket. Then, to the crowd gathered, he prayed, “In the name of the father, son, and holy spirit, amen.”
Drew stung. “In the name of God, amen,” she amended quietly. The rest of the crowd repeated, “Amen.” Danny crossed himself as he whispered his response, and Michelle glanced out toward her mother’s grave, then down at her belly.
Selena looked over at Drew, whose insides had been reduced to jelly. Her head was spinning uncontrollably, and she felt detached from her body. She saw stars in front of her eyes, then fainted dead away in Buzz’s arms.
To her relief, her memory pulled away at that moment, and she didn’t have to endure the horrible, awkward dinner that had followed. Please, dear God, let me wake up! Drew silently pleaded.
But her body would not obey her, and kept her immersed in soft darkness.