Johnny Angel

“Mom, your cookies are burning,” she said matter-of-factly, seeing neither her older brother, nor the look of joy in her mother's eyes. All she saw was her mom on the floor, talking to Bobby, with his toys all around them. “I took them out of the oven,” she said, and closed the door again, as Alice stood up and kissed both her sons before she left them. She went downstairs with a lighter step than she'd had in years, and all she could think of was how Jim would feel once he knew that Bobby was talking.

Her eyes went to Bobby's often at dinner that night, and he smiled as he looked at her. They had a huge secret to share, two of them, one that he could talk, and the other that Johnny had come back to them. It formed a bond between Alice and her youngest child that they had never shared before, and he stayed in the kitchen with her for a long time that night, after they finished dinner. He said nothing to her, but she could feel his heart tucked into her own, as he helped her clean up, and when they finished, she stopped and pulled her to him. “I love you, Bobby,” she whispered to him. His arms held her tightly around her waist, and when she stepped back from him, he smiled at her, and went silently upstairs with Johnny.

Chapter 8

Thanksgiving was painful for them that year, particularly for Jim and Charlotte. Alice felt sorry for both of them, and wished that she could have shared Johnny's presence with them. He hung around between Bobby and her part of the time, and made yummy faces as he stood over the turkey, while she was carving it in the kitchen. Jim had had enough to drink by then that she didn't trust him with it, or the carving knife. She didn't want him to destroy the bird, or hurt himself.

“Boy, that smells great, Mom. It's bigger than last year,” Johnny said with admiration.

“I couldn't find one smaller than this,” she said out loud to him, wrestling with one of the drumsticks, and then licking her fingers while Johnny sniffed at the gravy. “Be careful you don't spill that.”

“Spill what?” Charlotte asked, looking blank, as she walked into the kitchen to help her.

“The gravy. Not you, I was talking to …” She was distracted and forgot that Charlotte couldn't see Johnny standing next to her.

“Who were you talking to, Mom?” Charlotte asked, looking worried.

“No one, sweetheart. I was just thinking out loud.” Charlotte looked crestfallen as she walked out, carrying a platter of sweet potatoes with marshmallows on them. Her mother was clearly out of her mind with grief, and her father was already drunk halfway through the afternoon. Johnny was gone, and she wished they didn't have to celebrate at all, as she went back to the kitchen to get the cranberry jelly. Her mother had her back to her when she walked into the room, and had just said clearly “Stop that!” Charlotte thought she was definitely crazy. “If you touch one more thing, I'm going to kill you!” Alice said, sounding good-humored.

“I thought you wanted this stuff put on the table,” Charlotte said as her mother turned around to look at her, and then blushed.

“Yes, I did. I'm sorry…. I get a little frazzled with all this cooking.”

“Mom, you've got to stop talking to yourself like that,” Charlie said, looking nervous. She'd been doing it for two months. Charlotte knew why, it was because of Johnny's death of course, but it just didn't seem normal or healthy. Even her father had noticed, but he never said anything to Alice about it. He had told Charlotte she always talked to herself now when she was alone in their bedroom. He had walked in several times when she was having a full-blown conversation with herself. “Mom, are you okay?” Charlotte asked her, as she juggled the cranberry jelly in one hand and the string beans in the other.

“I'm fine, dear. Honest. I'll be out in two minutes with the turkey.”

“Okay, now go play while we eat,” she told Johnny in a whisper before leaving him in the kitchen, and hurrying into the other room with the turkey.

“I can't miss Thanksgiving, Mom.” He looked hurt at the suggestion.

“You'll make Bobby act funny … and I'll wind up saying something I shouldn't,” she whispered to him.

“I'll be good. I promise,” he said solemnly, and then followed her in as she carried the stuffing and the carved turkey. Thanksgiving had always been his favorite holiday next to Christmas.

Alice served everyone, and Jim looked vague as he dug into his dinner. Charlotte said nothing, and Bobby smiled when he glanced up at Johnny. But Johnny put a careful finger to his lips and warned him not to look at him, which made Alice giggle.

“Whass so funny?” Jim asked, slurring his words. And Alice looked at him sadly. It was painful to see him that way, not only for her, but for the children. Bobby glanced at him with disappointment, and shook his head.

“Why did Dad have to get so drunk today?” Johnny asked her when she went back to the kitchen to carve more turkey for them.