Part 2: 7 - Guilt and Ice Cream
Bad news and conflicting messages
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 2: Chapter 6, Rattling Place • Kiko finds little peace
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
7 - Guilt and Ice Cream
Lisa Cartwright
June 13, 1988
La Mesa, California
When the two deputies appeared, Lisa stood by her husband at the door. But when the shorter one with spiky black hair said, “Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright . . .” Lisa backed away before he could utter the words, “We’re sorry to inform you, we’ve found the body of a girl who fits the description of your daughter, Dani.”
“Where?” Tim asked.
Lisa’s back hit the wall. Words continued to reach her; she could not escape them. Dani was found in Dehesa Valley. The impossible gravity pulled her down. She slid to the floor where her body curled, knees to chest, hands over eyes. Jelly’s wet nose rooted at her. She closed in more tightly, dimly aware of more words coming from the deputy, and then Tim closing the door. He pounded at the back of the door violently, as if he could drive the news away with the force. She stayed where she was against the wall, unable to move.
Lisa always wondered if it was better to know or to not know. When her mother went missing, they did not know. If they had found her, even if they found her dead, they could have had closure, as they say. Hope is painful. When there is even the tiniest hope, the imagination fills the empty space with questions, draining the mind in emotional circles, dips and swells of faith and despair. But this new eternity without hope, this enormous weight of knowing, plunged her into a dark well of shame for the role she felt she played . . . Dani!
There was no going back.
Sometime later, Tim’s father Daniel quietly let himself in. He pulled Lisa gently from the floor and sat her down on the couch beside Tim. When Daniel leaned in and put his arms around them both, Tim let out a sound of anguish she could never have imagined coming from her husband—a sound that could not be substituted with any words. It would remain indelibly carved into her eardrums, haunting her in the space between the now constant sound of the screen door slamming.
At some point, her father-in-law had risen and gone to the kitchen, returning with steaming cups. She and Tim continued to breathe, unmoving, a pair of human husks clutching coffee cups. Daniel sat nearby, reading aloud from his Bible. There was no comprehension, but like the coffee in her hands, the vibration of his voice was warmth she could absorb, if not swallow.
Barb Ames
June 14, 1988
La Mesa, California
Mom was talking a little more today, though every word came slowly with a lot of effort, and slurred like she was drunk. At least she was talking. She had one theme: ice cream, which sounded more like, “I-shh green.” “Don’t . . .for . . .get . . .I-shh . . .green,” was the gist of it.
Mom pointed a finger weakly at Barb for a long time, saying something like, “Eat the ice cream. The last. Before you go home.” If she even heard that right.
Barb narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. She said, “Mom, that’s kinda crazy. I mean, I know you love ice cream. What do you mean, ‘eat the last before I go home?’ I didn’t bring you any ice cream today. There is no ice cream here.”
She was distracted by the news on the TV above Mom’s bed. When she saw Dani’s picture, she turned up the volume. Dani wasn’t just missing anymore, she was murdered. That sweet perfect little girl. Her body was found somewhere in Dehesa Valley. She didn’t see where, or they weren’t saying, but Barb’s mind flitted for a moment to the pepper tree outside the front gate at Allen Haven Ranch. She said, “Mom, the little girl next door was killed. She was murdered. They found her body.”
Seemingly in response, Mom grabbed Barb by the wrist with her one good hand and held on so fiercely that Barb started to pull back in reflex. Then Mom latched the hand onto Barb’s shoulder and pulled herself up from the bed, leaning into her. Barb was anticipating something about Dani, but instead, Mom finally came out with the words, “Ice cream. Don’t forget ice cream!” She lay back down and pointed at Barb, jabbing each syllable at her as she struggled to pronounce them. “You! . . .Im . . .por . . .tant.”
Barb’s shoulders tightened up to her ears and her eyebrows squeezed together. “Okay, Mom,” she said, trying to sound calm, “I’ll get the ice cream before I go home. I won’t forget.”
Mom settled back into the bed, exhausted from her effort, and soon fell asleep. She had looked so frustrated trying to communicate, but the last thing Barb wanted at that moment was ice cream, in fact, it was never one of her favorite things. She sat for a while watching Mom breathe and listening to the beep of the heart monitor. When she rose to leave for the night, she whispered, “Charlie and I are fine, Mom. I’m taking care of him. You get better. I’ll bring ice cream tomorrow.”
She didn’t remember walking to the car. Suddenly she was there in the driver’s seat. She had to think. What would Mom actually do? She knew she wouldn’t go to Baskin Robbin’s in this situation. ‘Don’t forget the ice cream.’ What the hell did that mean? Nothing, she told herself. Nothing. Mom was gone, mentally, if not physically. But ice cream, man. Don’t forget the ice cream! “Pshh,” Barb almost laughed out loud.
Money was going to be a problem. She had an appointment with Mr. Rodriguez at the cafe tomorrow morning. She would let him know that Mom wasn’t coming back, but she would treat it as a job interview. She hoped he would want to hire her on the spot to take Mom’s place, even though she had no experience as a waitress. Mom had been a loyal employee for as long as Barb could remember, and now Barb needed that job.
When she arrived home, she found Charlie still outside doing tricks on RJ’s ramp. “Come inside, buddy. It’s dark. You’ll get hit by a car.”
Charlie picked up his board. “I don’t want to be in there.”
“I know,” Barb sighed, “I’ll make you a sandwich. Come on in.”
There wasn’t any bread. Barb wrapped some cheese slices into rolls with the rest of the sandwich ham. There were toothpicks to hold them together. Six rolls for Charlie, two for her.
“Here you go. Fancy French style,” she said, trying to be cheerful.
Charlie said nothing. He flipped on the TV and they stared at it together while they chewed. Thirsty from the salty food, Barb got up and filled two plastic cups with water from the faucet. When she returned, Vera’s mother, Veronica Stevens was on the screen standing in front of that pepper tree. The picture changed, and she heard the theme song for America’s Most Wanted.
“Charlie! I was watching that!” Barb snapped, snatching the remote from her brother.
“What the hell!?” He snapped back. “Since when do you watch the news?”
She switched the channel back. The news was showing a small crowd holding posters. Veronica Stevens was saying, “The body of nine-year-old Dani Cartwright was found buried here under this tree outside of Allen Haven Ranch in Dehesa Valley, yesterday.”
The camera moved. There were already flowers, teddy bears, and big pictures of Dani all leaned up against the tree. Footage appeared of a tow truck pulling Mr. Allen’s fixed-up green car. The reporter continued, “The owner of the property, Todd Allen, may be involved.”
“Isn’t that your ranch?” Said Charlie, with some miff.
“It’s not my ranch, but yeah,” Barb answered.
His eyes were wide. “Your coach, or whatever, killed the neighbor?!”
“Of course not!” Barb was losing her cool.
“But they arrested him,” Charlie said, arms folded.
“They picked up his car,” said Barb, but she really didn’t know. Did they arrest Mr. Allen?
When Barb looked back, the camera was panning across the locked gate. She had never seen it locked before. She could see some of the posters now. One said, “Child Murderer”, and another, “Baby Rapist”. She couldn’t read them all, but no doubt the others were equally accusatory.
“They think he killed her,” Charlie said, pointing at the TV.
“That’s bullshit!” Barb threw down the remote and began pacing around their small living room.
“Even if he didn’t, that’s what everybody thinks,” Charlie added, only fueling Barb’s anger.
“I have to tell the Cartwrights. It’s not him! They have to understand. There is no way he would ever hurt anybody, especially a child. It’s Veronica! That reporter! She hates the Allens.”
“Why?” Charlie asked, innocently unaware he was in her danger zone.
“I don’t know, Charlie, maybe because her spoiled brat kid likes to abuse animals?!” It felt good to yell even though she never wanted to yell at Charlie like that.
He yelled back, “Look, it wasn’t me!”
Barb took a deep breath and let it out, “I know. I shouldn’t have yelled. That reporter. Her daughter is Vera, the girl who got kicked out of the program two years ago.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, “Vera. I remember her.”
The news had moved on to the weather. Barb picked up the remote from the floor and handed it back to Charlie. “I’m sorry, Charlie. Watch whatever you want.”
She went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn’t much there, not even milk for cereal. She closed it and stared blankly at the door for several moments, seething.
“I’m going next door,” she told Charlie. “I’ll be right back.”
Charlie shrugged and continued flipping channels.
Barb stood on the neighbors’ front porch, totally out of place. Just another door to a place she didn’t belong. But she had to tell them. Mr. Allen didn’t kill Dani. They had to know. She pushed the button on the little round doorbell and heard a cheery “ding-dong” from inside.
A female voice said, “Are you expecting a visitor?”
She didn’t hear a reply. After a few moments, she turned to step down from the porch, half-relieved. That’s when the door opened, and an older lady she didn’t recognize was standing there. She had short dyed-brown hair, a pair of glasses hung from her neck on a chain, and she was holding a clipboard in one hand. The lady peered past Barb, and seeing that there was no one behind her, she said, “Can I help you?”
Barb saw Mr. Allen’s smiling face in her mind and composed herself with all the courage she had. “I’m Barb Ames. I live next door. I-I need to talk to Dani’s parents.”
“I’m sorry. They’re not seeing visitors right now, Ms. Ames,” said the lady, and she started to close the door.
A female voice inside said, “Who is it?”
“Hold on,” said the lady, stepping away from the door. A moment later, she ushered Barb inside.
Dani’s parents were sitting at a small dining table against the wall at the end of the kitchen, apparently having some sort of meeting with the lady who answered the door. “I’ll just check your paperwork,” said the lady, who moved to the living room with her clipboard.
“Please have a seat, Barb.” Dani’s mom motioned to the open chair at the table.
Barb sat uncomfortably. Sadness seemed to bleed from the walls around her. Dani’s dad just stared at the middle of the table beyond his manicured hands, which were laid out like inanimate objects in front of him.
“Uh,” Barb began, “I just want you to know that Mr. Allen. . . Mr. Allen didn’t kill anybody. He could never . . . He’s a good man.”
Dani’s dad looked up at her from below a movie-star swoosh of blonde hair. His eyes seemed to bore into hers. Barb looked down and studied the wood grain of the table, frozen for a moment. When Dani’s mom placed her small hand on Barb’s, she almost pulled away, but when she looked up, the woman’s eyes were full of kindness. So she left the hand there for what seemed like a long moment. When Dani’s mom finally spoke, she said, “We don’t know who did this yet.”
Barb straightened, putting both of her hands together in her lap, “I’m just saying, because of what they’re showing on the news. Everyone seems to think . . . "
“I think you should go,” Dani’s dad said.
Barb’s chair squeaked loudly as she pushed herself back from the table.
“She was following you,” said Dani’s dad, with much more force.
The lady in the living room stood, taking the cue as Barb did. She opened the door and Barb went to her escape, glancing back at Dani’s mom. She had her head in her hands. Barb watched Dani’s dad’s hands ball into fists as he stared back, producing guilt and shame like she had never felt before. It rushed through her veins, defying any thread of logic.
The lady with the clipboard touched Barb’s shoulder and met her eyes with empathy that came too late. She said, “It’s a difficult time,” giving her shoulder a light squeeze. She handed Barb a business card and gently closed the door behind her. Under the cobwebbed light of her own front porch, Barb glanced down at the card in her hand, “The Compassionate Friends,” was the only thing she bothered reading before stuffing the card back into her pocket and going inside.
Charlie was standing in the kitchen, phone in hand. “I’m calling Dad,” he said. “We don’t have any milk or bread or anything.”
Next
Part 2 | History is a Pile of Debris
8 - Nova
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
This was a difficult chapter to write, although I suppose they all have their challenges. I hope I have done the emotions justice.
Every chapter so far has had only one point-of-view character, and this one was originally only Barb, but I wanted you to feel closer to Dani’s parents, so I added the June 13th scene from Lisa’s perspective to keep you in touch with the Cartwrights’ experience of the loss of their daughter.
The sound Tim makes when his father embraces him is one that plays in my own mind. I heard it on the first Sunday after September 11, 2001. I don’t know who the man was, I never saw him, and I don’t know who he lost, but the cry was the most heartbreaking sound I have ever heard. It punctuates the mention of that day forever in my mind. I hope you never have occasion to hear, let alone make, such a sound in person, but if you do, you will know without question that there is a universe of love behind the anguish.
Another note on this chapter: I used the song, Snowgatherer, by Mouth Music, to power my understanding of Tim’s emotional state of mind. Unfortunately, the 2001 Mouth Music album, Seafaring Man, is not available on Spotify, so I wasn’t able to add it to the playlist for you. Suffice to say, it’s an angry, sorrowful song.
This one was so full of emotion. I love how each character stands out on their own. Well done 🤍