Page 62 of Now and Forever

“Judith, I assure you Mother and I have done everything possible.”

“I don’t doubt it, Marta. But maybe you should change tactics. I don’t know ... If something doesn’t work, try something else.”

The silence that follows gives me goose bumps.

“Hannah’s death broke all our hearts,” Marta finally says.

“I can imagine. It must have been terrible.”

Her eyes get teary, and I take her arm.

“She was the center of the family, the engine that kept everything going ... She was vital, positive, and ...”

“Marta ... ,” I whisper when I see a tear come down her cheek.

“You would have loved her, Jude; I’m convinced you two would have gotten along very well.”

“I’m sure of it.”

We each take several drags on our cigarettes.

“I’ll never forget Eric’s face that night. That day he not only had to deal with Hannah’s death, but he also lost his father and his girlfriend at the time.”

“Everything happened on the same day?” I ask, curious.

I’ve never talked about this with Eric. I can’t. I don’t want to make him have to remember.

“Yes, the poor guy, when he couldn’t get ahold of his father to tell him what had happened with Hannah, he went over to his house and found him in bed with that imbecile. It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.”

I get chills.

“I swear I thought Eric would never be whole again,” says Marta. “There were just too many bad things in a matter of hours. We didn’t hear from him for two weeks after Hannah’s funeral. He disappeared. We were very, very worried. When he came back, his life was in chaos. He had to confront his father and Rebeca. It was awful. And then, to top it off, Leo, the man who lived with Hannah and Flyn, another imbecile for sure, told us he didn’t want to take care of the boy. Suddenly, he didn’t consider him a son. At first, the boy suffered so much, and then Eric said he’d take care of Flyn. As you’ve seen, he’s doing that. In terms of New Year’s Eve, I know you’re right, but the person who broke that tradition was Eric. He took Flyn to the Caribbean that first year. The next year, he told Mother and me he didn’t want too much celebration that night, and so that’s what we’ve done these past few years. That’s why she and I always make our own plans.”

“Seriously?” I ask, surprised.

Just then, Flyn comes through the kitchen door and looks at us, apparently amused. An instant later, he turns and disappears.

“Goddamn it!” says Marta. “Get ready.”

“Get ready?”

Leaning on the glass doorframe, she smiles. “He’s going to snitch to Eric that we’re smoking.”

I laugh. Snitch?

“Eric is going to get pissed we’re smoking.”

He’s going to get pissed? Please, we’re adults.

But before I can even count to ten, the kitchen door opens, and there’s my German, followed by his nephew, walking toward us with an alarmed look.

“You’re smoking?”

Marta doesn’t respond, but I nod. Why bother lying? Eric looks at my hand. He makes a face and takes my cigarette. That makes me angry.

“Let that be the last time you ever do that.”

The coldness in Eric’s eyes cuts right through me.

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