The End of Forever (10 page)

“That’s good.”

“But it didn’t show the doctors anything else promising,” Erin countered. “They’ll do another one in a few days.”

“Did you put the things in her room like you told me you were going to do?”

“Only some stuffed animals, but I want to put up her life-size poster of Tom Cruise on one of the walls tonight. The nurses didn’t seem to mind when I asked if it was okay.”

“Who would mind?” Beth joked. “At least when she comes out of her coma, there’ll be something worth waking up for.”

“Right,” Erin agreed. “Whenever she comes out of her coma.”

That evening at home Erin went into Amy’s bedroom to take down the poster. She entered hesitantly, momentarily surprised. The room was spotless, neat, and orderly. Clothes had been hung up, papers stacked, pillows arranged on the tidily made up coverlet. It didn’t look like Amy’s room at all. “Inez …” she muttered. Hadn’t her mother told her that one of Inez’s friends was coming over to clean their house? Obviously, she’d come.

Erin walked around the room. It was too quiet and seemed foreign to her. Without Amy, Erin could scarcely stand to be in it. She stopped at Amy’s dresser and fingered a pile of papers. She wondered if Amy would have to learn to read all over again. She’d
seen a television report once about people who’d had brain damage and they’d had to relearn certain things as if they were babies. “I’ll help you, Amy,” she vowed, rearranging the pile.

She scanned the photographs stuck into the wooden frame around the mirror. Travis and Amy smiled out at her. She stared hard at his handsome face. He’d kept his promise and called once a day for an update, but Erin was cool to him. How could he refuse to come see her sister? She wondered what he’d be doing over spring break.

Erin turned toward the poster of Tom Cruise and spied Amy’s makeup kit in the corner. She lifted it onto the bed and opened the lid. Tubes of greasepaint were scattered inside. The fuzzy red wig and the bright red nose were also there. False eyelashes and a pair of oversize rubber ears were wrapped in wads of tissue.

Erin went to the closet and dug around until she found the satin clown suit and floppy shoe coverings that extended outward a foot long. On the same hanger with the costume was a stiff white net bib with sequins. She ran her hand over the smooth satin. On Saturday Amy was to have appeared at the Children’s Home. Erin wondered what the kids would be told. She wondered if they’d ask Miss Hutton, “But where’s Amy?”

Unexpected tears welled up in Erin’s eyes as she thought about the children. Why should she feel so sad about it? Why should she care? Amy couldn’t be
there, and that’s the way it was.
But you can,
she thought, startled.

“I don’t know anything about being a clown,” she argued aloud.

You can go in Amy’s place,
the voice inside said.

“But I’ll feel so stupid dressed this way.”

It’s for Amy. And the kids.

“This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, Erin Bennett,” she announced. Yet even as she said it, Erin knew she was going to go find her father’s Briarwood faculty phone directory and call Miss Hutton and volunteer.

Quickly she gathered up the costume and the makeup kit and hurried from the bedroom. Her pulse was racing, excitement carrying her down the hallway. She had something to do. Something to give to the kids at the Children’s Home, and no matter how silly and foolish she felt about being a clown, she’d do it. For Amy.

Erin hid in the rest room at the Children’s Home until the last possible moment. A glance in the mirror told her all she wanted to know about how she looked dressed as a clown. She looked ridiculous. Yet she was experiencing some sense of satisfaction in the achievement. When shed called Miss Hutton, the teacher had been so delighted that she’d personally driven Erin to the Home, chattering and complimenting her all the way.

“This is so wonderful of you, Erin,” Miss Hutton had said in her distinctive, high-pitched voice. “I did manage to find someone to fill in for Amy—a young man from Berkshire Prep named David. You’ll meet him at the Home. But the more clowns the merrier, I always say.” Erin only nodded and mumbled.

Miss Hutton barreled ahead. “The party will start in the activity room, then move out to the lawn where the staff has hidden about one hundred Easter eggs. I know you don’t have much experience in this sort of thing, but the children are so fascinated by clowns that they won’t notice. Most are five to ten years old, and they’re so adorable.”

Once at the facility Erin had retreated to the
bathroom to begin her transformation. She’d watched Amy several times and felt she could reconstruct her sisters clown from memory. First she applied a base coat of white greasepaint. Next she filled in a wide mouth of bright red well beyond the perimeters of her own lips and drew large red circles on her cheeks. She pasted on the false eyelashes and drew eyebrows that arched high on her forehead. The red wig and bulbous nose topped off her appearance. In many ways she looked like Amy, but the resemblance so disconcerted her that she drew a row of bright blue tears from the corner of one eye to the edge of her jaw.

She donned the satin costume, tied the bib behind her neck, and slipped the floppy rubber shoes over her sneakers. “Good grief, it’s like trying to walk in swim flippers,” she said, taking a few cautious steps.

Yet she
had
become a clown to rival any that performed in the circus, and she was sure that Amy would be proud of her. She announced, “Well, here goes nothing,” took a deep breath, and edged out the door. One of the outsize rubber shoes got stuck in the doorway. “Drat!” she muttered, and struggled to pull it free.

“Need some help?” someone asked.

Erin jerked upright, only to have the shoe slip free and the door swing shut. She toppled backward and landed in the arms of another clown.

“Do you always throw yourself at guys this way?” he asked with a laugh, hauling her to her feet.

She felt totally embarrassed, then realized that he
couldn’t see her blush because of all her makeup. “That wasn’t funny,” she said, squaring her shoulders. Even though he was wearing full makeup, she saw mischief sparkling in his blue eyes, and she thought of how silly she must look trying to act dignified in a clown face and outfit. Erin started to giggle.

The boy’s face, already painted with a lopsided grin, smiled more broadly. “Hi, I’m David, fellow clown and court jester. You must be Amy.”

Erin sobered quickly. “No, I’m Amy’s sister. I’m filling in for her. She’s”—Erin searched for an explanation—“sick.”

“Too bad. I’ve heard she was terrific, and I was looking forward to working with her.”

“You do this often?”

“Every chance I get. I have a magic act too, but my specialty is balloons.”

“Balloons?”

“Yeah, I make animals and things for the kids out of balloons. Let me show you.” He reached into the pocket of the billowing overcoat he wore, pulled out a balloon, and proceeded to blow it up.

Erin watched, fascinated, as he puffed and twisted and shaped the pliant elongated balloon. A minute later he held out a giraffe. “That’s super,” she said, taking it. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” he whispered. “What’s your specialty?”

Suddenly Erin realized that she couldn’t
do
anything. How had Amy managed these appearances?
What had she done to entertain her audience? “I–I don’t-know. Like I said, this is my sisters gig.”

David pondered her, tapping his fat clown shoe on the polished tile floor. The makeup around his mouth turned into a sad-sack frown. “You need a gimmick,” he said. “Here, take my water flower, and every chance you get, squirt me in the face.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t.…” She backed away, but he whipped off the large plastic daisy from his lapel. A long thin hose led from the back of the flower to a bulb.

“You feed the hose down your sleeve and keep the bulb in your palm.” He explained how the gizmo worked as he pinned it on her costume and pushed the tubing inside her sleeve along her arm.

Erin was amazed by his brashness but soon realized that he didn’t think of her as anything but a fellow clown out for the biggest laugh. Just the way Amy would have acted. “Uh—thanks,” she mumbled when he had finished.

“Try it.” She squeezed the bulb, and a spout of water doused him in the face. “Outstanding,” he said. “So, this is your first gig?”

“Yes. My last too,” she added yanking at the constricting bib around her throat. “If I don’t choke to death before the end of the day.”

“Want to work up a little routine?”

“Like what?”

“The kids like it when you do pratfalls.”

Erin looked skeptical, thinking of her dance aspirations.
She didn’t want to hurt herself. “Gee, I don’t know.…”

“I’ll do all the falling,” David assured her. “You just trip me up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I do this stuff all the time. I won’t feel a thing.”

Erin agreed, and they did a few practice moves. Each time David sprawled convincingly on the floor. Finally satisfied, he rose, dusted himself off, and offered his arm in courtly fashion. “Shall we adjourn to the activity room?”

Erin hooked her arm through his and curtsied. “Lead on, fool.” They started down the hall, each lifting oversize rubber feet in cautious, exaggerated steps, being careful not to trip one another.

The activity room was packed with small kids and personnel, and in no time David had won their hearts with his antics and balloon creatures.

Erin followed his cues and tripped him often. She sneaked behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. The kids shouted warnings, but he turned and took a faceful of water. No matter how predictable her action was, the children squealed in delight. Behind the anonymity of the makeup, she was able to act with outrageous abandon.

When the staff director announced the start of the egg hunt, Erin was almost sorry. David helped form a line and led the children out into the sunshine. Erin didn’t follow but hung behind. Without the
shouts of the audience, the room seemed hollow, and she watched from the window for a few moments, then let out a sigh. For her the party was over.

“There you are, Erin,” Miss Hutton said, coming in from the bright outdoors. “You were wonderful, dear. The children are asking for you. Won’t you come help find the eggs with them?”

“I really need to get back to the hospital,” she explained.

Miss Hutton’s expression turned to instant understanding. “Well, of course you do. Let me get my purse and drive you home.”

Erin watched David prancing on the lawn with a dark-haired girl who kept dodging him and laughing. An overwhelming sadness descended on her. “Thanks. I’ll need to clean up before I go.”

Miss Hutton touched her arm. “The children will long remember this day, Erin. Thank you for coming.”

“I did it for Amy.”

“You charmed everyone. So did that young man, David.”

“Miss Hutton, if he asks about me, don’t tell him who I am or where I’ve gone. I’d like him and the children to remember me as just a clown.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It was what Erin wanted—to be associated with laughter. She took off the floppy shoes so that she could walk more quickly and started for the door. Her foot brushed against an inflated balloon, and it danced upward in the air. She caught it and held it up. It was
tied off in the middle to form a heart, and she decided to keep it as a souvenir.

David was very talented, and he had the gift of laughter. Too bad she’d never see him again. She wondered what he really looked like, then decided she didn’t really want to know. This day had merely been an interlude in time, a brief time-out from all the pain and turmoil in her real life. She tucked the heart-shaped balloon under her arm and hurried down the hall to gather her things and make a quick escape.

On Easter Sunday, Erin went to a small chapel service in the hospital. It felt strange not to dress in new spring clothes and go to church with her family, where the choir would sing Handels
Messiah
and baskets of white lilies would line the altar and aisles. This year the Bennett’s would be sitting in Neuro-ICU instead of in the sanctuary.

They ate Easter dinner in the cafeteria, but there was no sense of joy in the meal. “They’ll do another CAT scan tomorrow,” Mrs. Bennett said, pushing aside her half-eaten food.

“You should eat more, Marian,” Mr. Bennett told her.

“How can I eat? How can I even think about eating when my baby’s upstairs attached to wires and machines?”

Erin’s eyes darted quickly between her parents.
Don’t let there be a scene,
she pleaded silently.

“Well, how’s starving yourself going to help Amy?” he argued. “I’ll bet you’ve lost ten pounds.”

“So what? I’d lose a hundred if I thought it would help her.” She reached in her purse for a cigarette.

“Well it won’t.”

Erin scraped back her chair and flung her napkin over her plate. “Stop it! Just stop it! It’s Easter Sunday. And … and …” Her voice broke. She wanted to scream at them, wanted them to understand how bad she felt and how much she wished she could turn time backward. “I’m going up to the waiting room,” Erin cried, and fled to the stairwell. She bolted up the stairs, two at a time, and by the fifth-floor landing she could scarcely breathe. Somehow she made it to the seventh-floor landing, where she stood gasping for air, sweat trickling down her face and back.