Chapter 28: Reception

By a/k/a Simon
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Only a few people had arrived at the Kroeger house after the funeral when the cab came to pick up Eddie. The honk of the horn alerted him to its presence. He picked up his bag and headed for the front door. Megan was standing with Greta at the far end of the living room watching him as he went. They looked at each other, both regretting how things were happening, but neither making a move toward the other. There were no final words exchanged or a bittersweet embrace. Eddie broke the stare at the second honk of the horn and exited out the door. Megan felt sure, like her mother, Eddie was gone forever.


Greta had witnessed the whole thing and couldn’t contain her curiosity. She led Megan into the dining room to refill their plastic cups when she made her inquiry. “So he’s gone?” she asked, disappointment in her voice.

Megan shrugged, grabbing a potato chip from a nearby bowl. “Looks like it,” she said with mixed feelings.

“Is that the way you want it?” Greta continued to pry.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Megan confessed. She told her about Wanda and Doug and how the baby seemed to change their lives. They both seemed earnest in their resolve to start anew, but Megan couldn’t ignore the cynic in her that questioned the reality.

“A baby does change things,” Greta agreed. “But not always the way people think. Sure, it’s a happy occasion when it first happens, a real wakeup call to the rest of your life. It should be a profound event, something as important as raising a child. But too many people think it’s going to instantly solve the problems at the heart of a marriage. It certainly didn’t work that way for me and my Jacob. If anything, bringing a baby in, only to see it die was what finally ruined things between us. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like those two had a very happy life together before the baby. Now they’re betting everything on that child to fill in the blanks, to provide them with all the things they weren’t finding in each other. That’s a lot of pressure to place on a little kid. It’s that kind of attitude that will turn the kid into a symbol of resentment. A few years down the road, when the cracks are starting to show in the marriage again, the parents are going to transfer their anger onto the child, because it was the child that they expected to solve all their problems. Talk about an explosive situation.”

Greta had put into words exactly what Megan had been feeling about so many things, placing all her hopes on one thing to fix everything.

“You weren’t thinking of having a baby?” Greta asked. “Were you?”

“No!” Megan was shocked. “Are you kidding me? I have enough kids at school to deal with.”

“Not that I don’t think you’d be a wonderful mother,” Greta assured her. “I just think, under the circumstances, it might not be the best idea.”

“Oh, I know that. Trust me.”

“Besides,” Greta smirked, “if you wanted to drive a man away, I can’t think of a better way to do it than to mention children.”

It cheered Megan up for a second. “No, no kids,” she promised. “It’s just, after the thing with Wanda and Doug, it got me thinking. They were so sure about themselves; having been through this major change in their lives…I guess their optimism was infectious. It clouded my judgement. I came home from the hospital today, finally willing to give Eddie a real chance.”

“And he had his bag packed,” Greta finished.

“I saw it and I just snapped. It was like everything I’ve been struggling with these past few days, all the progress I thought I’d made just got swept away and all I was left with was this defense response. I’d gone through a slow abandonment with him once before, I wasn’t going to give him a chance to do it again.”

“Did you even give him a chance to explain?” Greta asked. “The bag could have been…”

Megan shook her head. “No. No, I wasn’t thinking right at that point.” Then she admitted, guilt in her voice, “And I showed him the flier.”

“And he found out you’d been hiding it from him,” Greta surmised.

“Yup.” Megan took a seat in a folding chair along the wall of the dining room. Greta sat down next to her. “After that, it was pretty much a free-for-all. Any credibility I thought I had just flew out the window. If I wanted to really screw things up, that was the best way to do it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, dear,” Greta comforted, touching Megan on the back. “And you’re sure that’s the end?”

“I think it might be.”

Greta tried to put a positive spin on things. “Well, you never know. Things have a strange way of working out.”

Megan wanted to believe her, but she was just about out of optimism.

“I hate to bring this up now,” Greta began, “but there’s a meeting with the lawyer tomorrow. Shane wants to start figuring out what to do with your parents’ estate.”

“He doesn’t wait long, does he? We just got the body in the ground an hour ago.”

“Since your father is still alive, they’re going to try and set up a trust,” Greta informed her. “I’m pretty sure Shane is angling to be the executor.”

“Yeah, that’ll work out just dandy,” Megan said, rolling her eyes.

“They want you to come to the meeting.”

“Me?” Megan was confused. “I don’t want any part of this. I might not have much, but I get by just fine. You put me in that meeting and things are going to get vicious. They can keep the money and the aggravation. Let the jackals fight it out amongst themselves.”

“They want you in the meeting for that very reason,” Greta clarified. “They’re looking to get a statement out of you, a signed statement that says you relinquish all claims to the family estate. Shane and his lawyers are worried that you’ll go home tomorrow, think about it a little, then decide to come back just to spite them all.”

“I can assure you that that won’t happen.”

“Well, this is a way to say that. You can put this all behind you quick and get on with your life.” Greta’s scenario did sound persuasive. “I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. And don’t think I’m happy about the way this is happening. If it were up to me, you’d be getting the biggest chunk, and the rest of it I would donate to charity. This money has been like a poison in this family and I’d be glad to see it go.”

“So all I have to do is sign the paper and that’s it?” Megan asked, wanting to make sure. “Then I won’t have Shane and his dogs pestering me for years to come?”

“Exactly.”

“I want to say yes right now,” she told her aunt. “But let me think about it. I’ll let you know by the time everyone leaves.”

It was the best answer she was prepared to give.


Megan wandered around the house for close to an hour. The brown out had ended just before they had gotten back from the funeral and the air conditioning was turned up to the maximum in an effort to cool the house down. If Helen Kroeger had not been so well known and well liked, the air conditioning might have been more successful. As it was, the number of guests milling about kept the temperature inside close to eighty. It wasn’t much cooler outside, but an evening breeze had picked up that made it more bearable.

It was almost seven o’clock and the sun was beginning its descent. The sky was painted with slashes of pink, purple, and orange. Megan stood at the edge of the pool in the backyard, dipping her hand into the water to test the warmth. Greta had skimmed the surface that morning in preparation for the evening’s company. The day’s heat had driven it up a few degrees and she thought about how perfect a swim would feel right about now.

“Hey, I want a word with you,” said a familiar voice from behind.

She didn’t bother to turn around as Shane approached; she had a good idea what he wanted to say.

“Are you coming to the meeting tomorrow, or what?” he asked, perturbed.

“I’m thinking it over,” she told him, watching droplets of water fall from her fingertips, casting circular ripples out from the corner of the pool.

“This isn’t a game,” he warned her.

“Isn’t it?” she threw back at him. “Isn’t this your same old game? Shane as the bossman? Shane as the man in charge, throwing his muscle around, intimidating people to get what he wants?”

“Look, you don’t have to get dramatic about this,” he said. But she was enjoying the drama. She was enjoying watching Shane squirm. She planned to sign the form, to let him have what he wanted. But she wasn’t going to make it easy. First she wanted to have a little fun with him.

“I’m willing to offer you a deal,” he started.

“I’m listening.”

“You sign off your claim, you back me as executor of the trust, and I’ll cut you a check for fifty thousand dollars.”

She took a sip from her cup and stood up. She walked past him and sat down on one of the deck chairs facing across the pool. With her legs crossed, her foot bouncing, she asked, “Is that all our mother is worth to you, Shane?”

“I knew it,” he said, pointing an accusatory figure. “I knew you came here for the money. Alright, how much is it going to take? Seventy-five? A hundred? What’s your price?”

This was too good, she thought. She could see the sweat stains spreading out from his armpits. It almost made her want to take the money, just for a laugh, just because she knew that the only place to truly hurt him was in his wallet. But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as she had it. Seeing his reaction, seeing how frantic money made him, she wanted as far away from this life as possible. She thought of all the good that she could do with a hundred grand, for herself and for others. But the cost was too high.

Still, this game was too entertaining to abandon just yet. The cruel streak in her, the true Kroeger, said to let him go the night without an answer. “I’ll have to sleep on it,” she told him. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

It did not make him happy. Shane stormed away so furious, at first he forgot his ruse.

“Better keep an eye on that walk,” Megan said, putting the final screw to him. “People might think you’ve miraculously healed.” Point of fact, Eddie wasn’t the only one who knew Shane’s limp was fake.

For a moment she was pleased with herself. A moment later, Megan caught a glimpse of Ryan standing in the backyard, sitting on the rock wall that separated the lawn from the woods. She thought of Eddie shaking his hand and wondered if lightning could strike twice.

He was smoking a cigarette, staring off into the distance as she approached. Whether he noticed her coming or not, he gave no indication. Even after she reached him he ignored her at first.

“Ryan,” she said three times to no response, deciding to just say what she had to say. “There’s something I wanted to tell you. I saw the pictures.”

“What pictures?” he said, letting out a breath of smoke.

“The pictures in your room,” she said, tensing for his reaction.

“You went in my room?” he barked, standing up, tossing his cigarette aside. “Didn’t you learn your fucking lesson the first time?”

“It was the brown out,” she explained. “Shane sent me down to check the fuses.”

“I don’t give a shit if there was an earthquake and the goddamn house got knocked down. Nobody goes in my room.”

“Look, Ryan, I saw the pictures of you and me, in that frame you keep on the inside of the fuse box door.”

“I don’t care what you think you saw,” he argued, grabbing her by the shoulders. Suddenly Megan was taken back to the day that started everything. “You stay the fuck out of my room unless you want me to beat the shit out of you like I did your pussy hero husband.”

Ryan pushed her to the ground and marched back to the house. Not long after, she heard tires squeal and the sound of a mammoth engine tearing out of the driveway. She couldn’t remember the odds of lightning striking in the same place twice, but she was reminded that they weren’t good.


Before the reception could end, Megan had one more confrontation. It was almost nine o’clock and everyone who was drinking had been drinking fairly heavily. Most had settled into places on the couch or on the back deck or in the kitchen. Early in the evening these people were exchanging mournful tales of Helen Kroeger, laughing and crying about times they’d spent with her. Once the alcohol soaked in, however, these same people turned back to their favorite subject: themselves. Town business was informally conducted and Shane gleaned useful information. The older guests reminisced about the way Putnam used to be, lamenting changes they disagreed with, praising changes they approved of. Some of the single people did their best to hook up with each other, some more successful than others. High school friends reveled in the glory of days past, unable to fully live in the present. Toward the end, the Kroeger house seemed more like the local bar than a funeral reception. And what would a bar be without a bar brawl?

Megan told herself that she would have one more drink and that would be it. With all the emotions going through her, she wanted to maintain some control to prevent any truly embarrassing moments. Others, however, did not share her resolve.

Hazel had been drinking fairly steady since the reception began. Despite her dress being too small for her, she was still thin, and foregoing food was not her wisest decision. By the time she got up the nerve to approach Megan in the dining room, she could barely keep her feet under her to confront her.

Resting a hand on the table, Hazel slurred out, “I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Excuse me?” Megan asked. It was no secret that they didn’t like each other, but there had always been an established rule of decorum when they were in the same space together. True, the rule was flexible, but it kept them from ever really having it out.

“You,” Hazel repeated. “You, you bitch. I don’t know where you get off.”

“Look, maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Megan suggested, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

“No, we’re going to have it now,” Hazel demanded, poking the table with her index finger. “I’ve got something to say to you, and you’re going to listen.”

Megan leaned in and said in a hush, out of the corner of her mouth, “Hazel, you’re drunk. You really don’t want to…”

“Don’t tell me what I am!” she shouted. If people hadn’t noticed before, they certainly did now. “You’ll know when I’m drunk.”

Greta appeared in the entryway and gave Megan a look, asking her if she needed help. Megan flagged her off for the time being, hoping that maybe, by letting Hazel say her piece, she could end this scene quickly and with as little embarrassment as possible.

“You know, Shane’s a good man,” Hazel told her. “He takes care of this family. You’re such a spoiled brat; you don’t get what you want so you run away from home. Then you come back, because you smell money in the water.”

“Don’t you mean blood in the water?” Megan asked impishly. She couldn’t help but taunt her a little.

“I know what I mean,” Hazel said, her head flopping about loosely at the top of her neck. “You can’t keep a man, so you come crawling back here, thinking you’re gonna get your hands on the family money.”

Her comment hit a nerve. Under ordinary circumstances, Megan would have been able to control herself. But her emotions were high, her patience was stretched thin, and there was just enough alcohol in her system to ignite a fire.

“Alright, hold it right there,” she demanded. “I’m not gonna have you up in my face, giving me advice on keeping a man.”

Hazel looked her up and down and snickered. “Me, give you advice? Look at you. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you just shut your goddamn mouth,” Megan suggested, in a way exactly the opposite of polite.

“You don’t tell me what to do. This is my family now. Shane’s my husband and you don’t have any place here anymore. So why don’t you just go back to DC and leave us all alone, you hag.”

“All right,” Greta interrupted finally, stepping between the two women like a referee. “Maybe you two should go back to neutral corners.”

“She’s the one starting all the trouble,” Hazel said, like a drunken schoolgirl. “Shane made her a perfectly good offer to go away and she won’t take it.”

“Lady,” Megan said sarcastically. “I don’t want any of your fucking money. You keep it. You’ll need it when it’s time for your next face-lift and boob job. That’s how you keep a man, right? Maybe if you have enough money they’ll do a good job next time.”

Megan stomped up the stairs to her old room, closed the door, put a pillow over her head and allowed herself one final cry.


Sometime after midnight, once the last of the guests had long since left and everyone was sound asleep, Megan climbed out of bed. She looked through the drawers of her dresser and found an old one-piece bathing suit. It was from college and, when she tried it on, it fit snuggly but well enough to be used.

As quietly as possible, she descended the stairs, walked through the kitchen, and opened the backdoor. Outside it had cooled off very little, the Indian Summer still in effect, keeping the nighttime temperature over eighty.

Crickets chirped in the grass as she walked through the backyard to the pool. By the filter she found the switch that controlled the interior pool light. With a flip, the water lit up, a turquoise glow highlighting the steam drifting off its placid surface.

Hanging her towel on the back of a deck chair, Megan tested the water with her big toe. It was warmer than the air temperature and when she lifted her wet foot out of the pool she could feel the breeze exaggerated by contrast. She placed both feet in the water and took a moment to adjust. In one fluid movement she stepped down the remaining stairs, walked the length of the shallow end, and followed the slope into the deep end until the water rose up over her head and she disappeared into the blue-green liquid.

Kicking her feet, Megan swam eight feet down to the bottom of the pool and touched her hand to the drain in the center. Pushing off, she rocketed back to the surface, treading water in front of the single round light that illuminated the water.

She went under again, enjoying the silence below the surface. For a while, she allowed herself to forget.

After a few more trips to the bottom, she ducked under the water and began to swim the length of the pool. She kept her eyes closed, having never mastered the ability to keep them open while swimming. If she had kept them open she would have seen where she was going; she would have seen what lay in her path.

Instead, Megan bumped her head on something that was too close to be the wall of the shallow end. She put her feet under her and raised her head out of the water. Standing there, holding two pairs of orange water wings, was Ryan. He didn’t say anything to her. He just held out a pair of the inflated swim aids for her to take.

With suspicion, Megan took them. Ryan slid the wings over his arms and pushed them snug on his biceps. Looking away, he knelt down, turned around, laid back into the water, and let the wings hold him up. He floated still one the surface of the pool, looking up at the night sky.

Megan put on her pair of wings and followed Ryan’s example. Their bodies hovered atop the water; arms spread like two angels. Ryan began to kick. Megan did the same. Nothing was resolved between them that night. For a while though, in silence, they swam.

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