Chapter 20

Jason sat in Control Room B when Jake entered. “Afternoon, Jason,” he said. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been better, frankly,” Jason replied.

“Anything you’d care to discuss?”

“No -- I’ll be fine.”

“Here’s the rundown for tonight’s news. For the lead story, we’re using outtakes from an interview Rob did this morning with the new fire chief. Through a bit of ... radio magic ... I’m going to over-dub Rob’s questions. To make sure it sounds natural, I’d like to run through it on tape, rather than have you assemble it at air time.”

“Got it.”

“Here’s the script so you can follow along. Rob’s questions are highlighted. Those are the ones you’re going to need to cut out.”

Jake stepped into the announcer’s booth and slipped on a pair of headphones. Jason queued the audio segment and pressed Record on the digital recorder. “Rolling,” he said into talkback.

Jake read the question. “CUT!” he exclaimed.

Jason pressed the Stop button on the recorder.” What?”

“Jason -- you’re supposed to cut out the highlighted dialogue.”

“Shit. I thought I was supposed to play the highlighted lines. Okay -- Take two.” Jason switched playback to Audition while Jake read the question. Then, he flipped the switch to Line for the fire chief’s reply. This he repeated until the interview was concluded.

“Cut,” he said into talkback.

“That felt like a good take,” Jake said. “Play it back.”

“Crap -- I forgot to press Record. Sorry, Jake.”

Jake stepped from the announcer’s booth and confronted Jason. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you so scattered, Jason. You’re one of our best engineers.”

“I’m kinda distracted, I guess. My mom passed away this weekend.”

“What? Your mom died?”

“Yeah...”

“Was it expected?”

Jason shook his head. “It came out of the blue. She had an epidural hematoma ... brain bleed. An artery in her brain ruptured.”

“My God!” Jake replied. “You have my deepest condolences. Jason -- you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your family.”

“My family is three hours away. My sister is taking care of the funeral arrangements and her brother-in-law is dealing with the estate. I thought I could come here and it would take my mind off it.”

“Jason -- the station offers bereavement leave as a benefit. You need to take it.”

“But -- we don’t have coverage.”

“We’ll see about coverage.” Jake stormed out of the control room.

He returned shortly with Brian, the station’s chief engineer in tow. “Jason -- Jake tells me you lost your mother.”

“That’s right ... on Saturday they declared her brain dead.”

“When’s the funeral?”

“Thursday or Friday, depending on how the organ donation goes.”

“Jason -- I’m putting you on bereavement leave, effective immediately.”

“What about coverage?”

“You let me worry about coverage. I’ll cover for you personally if I have to. Take the whole week and we’ll see you next Monday. I don’t even want you thinking about the station until then. That’s an order.”

“Understood, Brian. Thanks.”

Jason headed out the rear entrance and drove to the condo. He let himself inside and sat on the sofa on an end cushion, propped his elbow on the arm and supported his head with his palm.

Twenty minutes elapsed. He heard the front door open. Aja stepped in wearing fuchsia scrubs. “What are you doing here?” she asked upon spotting him.

“They kicked me out of the station.”

“Jason! Does that mean you’re fired?”

“No -- I’m on compulsory bereavement leave for the whole week -- Brian’s orders.”

“Who’s Brian?”

“Brian Meeks -- he’s the station’s chief engineer.”

“Well, my opinion of that radio station just went up a notch. To hear you tell it, you’d need to schedule a death in the family a week in advance in order to arrange coverage. What happened?”

“I screwed up Jake’s news broadcast ... well, the pre-recording of it. Jake figured something was wrong and went to Brian about it.”

“So, what are you going to do? Sit there and sulk?” She sat beside him on the sofa. “Jason -- since you received that phone call from your sister, until now, I haven’t seen you shed a tear for your mother.”

He shook his head. “I did it all wrong. I was the one who left home and came here for college. I dropped out and started working for the station. I never went back home. Naomi is the one who went to a small, local nursing school. She didn’t drop out -- she earned her RN, works at a local hospital and she’s the one who was with Mom all along.” Tears began flowing down his face. “I never called enough or told her I loved her enough. Now it’s too late.”

“Hey,” Aja said and slipped her arm around him. “We all have regrets over things we think we should’ve done differently. From what Naomi said, your mother was proud of you for finding a career you’re passionate about.”

“It just makes it worse. I should’ve been the one to find her -- not Naomi. I should have been there for her.” He turned his face from her. “I don’t want you to see me like this ... I don’t want to be like this. I want my mom back.”

“I know what you’re going through. I understand the guilty feelings. I’ve been there.” Aja gently turned his face toward hers. “Jason -- don’t ever feel shy about showing your emotions to me. And, don’t keep them bottled up. You might explode.”

“Oh, Aja...” He threw his arms around her and began sobbing on her shoulder. His sobbing became wailing.

“That’s it,” she said. “Let it out, Jason. It’s cathartic.”

Jason sobbed, his shoulders shaking as Aja held him and caressed his hair. Gradually his weeping subsided. Aja kissed tears from his face and handed him a facial tissue. “Feeling better?” she asked.

He nodded. “It feels like a weight’s been lifted. I still feel guilt, though.”

“I had an albatross of guilt around my neck for years after my parents died. I was convinced what happened was my fault.”

“It wasn’t ... it couldn’t have been. You did everything right.”

“I know I did. Yet, the guilt still flashes on me now and then, out of the blue. You did everything right, too, Jason -- it’s natural and normal to leave home and strike out on your own. Your path led you here. You know I’m not a religious person, that I lost my faith in God after the accident. Nonetheless I can’t help wondering if there isn’t some plan for how the universe unfolds. Your path and mine crossed in the most unexpected way. Was it chance or was it part of a master plan? I don’t know.”

“I wish something could’ve been done to save her,” he said.

“With a bleeding event as massive as hers ... she could’ve been stricken in the ER waiting room and the chances she could’ve been saved would still have been very small. It was nobody’s fault, Jason. Most likely she had an undiagnosed aneurysm that’s time had come.”

“You’re right.”

“Use your time off to let all this sink in. You have a new reality, and you need time to adjust to it. Life does go on, Jason, and happiness will return. You and I both have much to contribute, yet.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. I might actually get some sleep tonight. Say -- what did you have planned for dinner?”

“The same as every night when you’re at the station -- heating up a frozen dinner.”

“There’s an Indian place not far from here -- within walking distance I believe. I’m in the mood for something spicy ... and I’m famished.”

“You haven’t eaten very well the past couple of days. Let me change out of my scrubs and we’ll take a stroll over there.”

“Yeah -- I’ll change out of this logo shirt ... and wash my face.”

Jason and Aja held hands as they strolled toward the restaurant. His cell signaled an incoming call. “It’s Naomi,” he said and sat on the bench of a bus stop.

Aja sat beside him. “Say hi for me.”

“Hi, Sis ... Really?” He looked up at Aja. “Naomi says the organ harvesting went well. There were waiting recipients who received her liver, both kidneys and her heart.”

“That’s wonderful,” Aja replied.

“She said it was all wrapped up this afternoon and Mom’s been turned over to the funeral home.” He spoke into the phone. “When’s the service? Thursday...”

“Ask her if she’d like me to sing,” Aja said.

“Aja is offering to sing at the service,” Jason said into the phone. “Oh, it’s no imposition. She has a beautiful voice...” He turned to Aja. “She wants to know what you’d be singing.”

“Tell her anything. If I don’t know it, I’ll learn it.”

“She says anything, Naomi.”

“What hymns did your mom like?” Aja asked.

“What would Mom have liked? ... Amazing Grace?”

“Jason -- I could sing Amazing Grace in my sleep!”

“Yeah, she knows Amazing Grace ... Okay, email me the tentative program. We’ll keep in touch. I love you, Naomi. Bye.” He canceled the call and looked into Aja’s eyes with his brimming. “Five people, Aja -- five people have new hope from Mom’s organs.”

“That means she lives on, in a way.”

“Knowing it helps ... helps me deal with it.”

They resumed their stroll toward the restaurant. “So, what’s the plan so far for the service?” she asked.

“They’ll do the cremation tomorrow. We’ll use the chapel at the funeral home as a venue. Mom was a member of the United Methodist church, but she rarely attended. She did become friendly with the pastor of the local Unitarian church. Naomi has contacted Betty Knaack...”

“She’s the pastor?”

“Correct. Betty would be happy to officiate -- say an opening prayer, give a little sermon, offer a benediction. The head of nursing at Memorial will deliver a eulogy. A few of the kids she and Dad fostered before I came on the scene have kept in touch with Mom and Naomi. A couple of them would like to say some words. Naomi is planning on saying something and she wants me to as well. I’m dreading that part of it, Aja. I am not a public speaker.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Naomi thinks wrapping it up with Amazing Grace and a benediction would be appropriate. After that there’ll be a receiving line where the survivors line up and greet the attendees. Of course, I want you with me in the receiving line.”

“Would that be appropriate?”

“As my fiancee, yes I think it is and Naomi agrees.” He gestured. “Restaurant is just up ahead.”

Jason and Aja stepped into the chapel at the funeral home. An urn sat on a cloth-covered table in front of a lectern with a microphone. To one side was a hand-held mic on a stand, and on the other was an easel with an enlarged portrait of Jason’s mother. Floral arrangements formed a backdrop. Rows of chairs were in place.

“Look,” Aja said, gesturing him to a large floral arrangement. “It’s from WNLX.”

“I’ll be...” He regarded the card in a plastic holder stuck into the floral foam. “Condolences ... signed by nearly everyone at the station.”

“You must be well-regarded there,” she replied.

“Better than I thought I was. I’m a little touched...”

He spotted his sister and she approached them. “The service starts in an hour,” Naomi said. “I spoke to Betty about keeping the theme of her address more on community and less on Faith.”

“Did she agree with that?”

“Yes, seeing as how this is a non-denominational service.” She handed him a program. “This has the rundown -- Betty says an opening prayer and gives her address. Then, Marcia Rader gives the eulogy.”

“She’s head of nursing?”

“Yes -- she’s my boss and Mom worked under her from the time Dad passed until she retired four years ago. Then, it’s Steve Green and Maggie DeShane -- those are the two Mom fostered who want to speak. Then, you’re up. When you’re done, I give my spiel, Aja sings Amazing Grace, Betty delivers a benediction and we go to the receiving line.”

“That sounds about what we discussed earlier,” he remarked.

“Is this the right place?” Jason heard a familiar voice. He turned and saw Phyllis approaching him, with Daymon following her and Oscar hobbling and leaning on his cane.

“Phyllis!” Jason exclaimed and embraced her. “Oscar ... Daymon ... You drove up here for the service?”

“We sure did,” Phyllis said.

“Naomi -- this is Aja’s immediate family -- her uncle Oscar, her aunt Phyllis and her cousin Daymon. Family -- this is Naomi Wilson, my sister.

“Pleased to meet you, Naomi,” Phyllis said. “We’ve heard so much about you. Jason has told us in such glowing terms.”

“Really? Jason -- I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Where should we sit?” Jason asked.

“The first row on the right -- the chairs with the ribbon across the seats are reserved for those of us participating.

“Well, then, we’ll stake out one row behind,” Phyllis replied.

“There’s some time before we get started,” Naomi said. “I think there’s an urn of coffee and a plate of cookies set up in the lobby.”

“I’ll just sit here and take a load off,” said Oscar.

Phyllis approached Jason. “How you holdin’ up?” she asked him.

“Better,” he replied. “As Aja said, I have a new reality and I need to become accustomed to it.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thanks. And, thanks for making the trip. I’m very touched.”

“You’re family, now, Jason. This is what we do for family.”

Jason embraced her. “Phyllis, I love you. I love you all.”

“We should take our seats,” Naomi said. “People are starting to file in.”

At the appointed time, Betty stood at the podium. The Unitarian pastor was a tall and wiry woman with short-cropped gray hair. Jason regarded another woman, shorter and stockier but about the same age, who had been sitting next to the pastor. He wondered if she might be Betty’s Lesbian partner.

Betty delivered an invocation and began a short sermon on life and death, pondering the meaning of eternity and emphasizing the rite of passage that all who are mortal must endure.

Next came the eulogy, delivered by Naomi’s current -- and, Jason’s mom’s former -- boss. She extolled on Jason’s mother’s sense of duty and capabilities as a nurse.

The two foster children, now grown adults, came next. Each spoke of his mother’s steady but loving resolve in fostering them.

Finally, it was Jason’s turn. He stepped to the podium and withdrew some index cards from his pocket. He started to speak, but tears filling his eyes blurred his vision. “My mom,” he started to say, but his emotions got the better of him. Pressing his hand to his eyes he said, “I’m sorry ... I can’t ... I’m sorry...”

He returned to his seat. Naomi stepped to the podium to deliver her address.

Phyllis stepped forward from her seat, sat beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m a failure,” he whispered.

“You’re not a failure,” Phyllis whispered in return. “You’re overcome. There’s no shame in that, Jason. I been overcome many times.”

Aja reached out to him. “Jason -- I can say some words in your behalf before my solo. I know what you intended to say -- we worked on it together. Is it okay if I use your words?”

“Fine,” he said. “Go ahead. Most folks know the story already.”

Naomi finished her comments and returned to her seat. Aja stepped forward and stood at the microphone on the stand. “I was asked to perform Amazing Grace,” she said to the congregation, “because it was Mildred Brown’s favorite hymn. I think it’s also a fitting tribute to Mildred, because it is a hymn of salvation, and salvation was Mildred’s stock in trade. I never met Mildred Brown, but I know her and love her though her son, Jason. In fact, before she was stricken, she planned to visit the home I share with Jason and I eagerly anticipated introducing myself as her future daughter-in-law. Sadly, that’s not to come to pass.”

Aja paused for a moment; then continued. “Jacob and Mildred Brown have a lovely daughter, Naomi. You heard her speak before me. Mildred loved Naomi unconditionally. But, Mildred had still more love in her heart and wished more than one child to love. When she learned she couldn’t bear another child, she turned to loving the children of strangers by becoming a foster mom. She and Jacob took in children in need of a temporary home, while their status was resolved, or while their natural parents dealt with issues. Some of those children have kept in touch with Mildred and her family. We heard from Steven and Maggie, who were fostered by Mildred and Jacob.”

Aja looked toward Jason and he nodded. “Twenty-three years ago,” she continued, “a child came to Mildred Brown who was to be her greatest challenge ... and, her greatest achievement. An eight-year-old boy named Jason Manning was placed in their home. Jason had suffered abuse in his early years and became a ward of the state at age six. By the time he was placed with Mildred, he had already been in six different foster homes, and each of those six returned him to the state as a hopeless case. By his own admission, Jason was a Hell child. A seething cauldron of rage is how he described himself to me. Mildred took on this challenge and, in Jason’s own words, she showed him the awesome power of unconditional love.