Chapter 6

So Long by Carol Burnett

Melody slept through the weekend. She would get up to use the bathroom and go right back to sleep, hugging the teddy bear I had given her. Helen, Tom, and I took turns staying with her, with me taking most of the time because she seemed to rest easier when I was in the room.

Cards, flowers, and stuffed animals had arrived from everyone Melody knew, and Helen had placed some of them around the room; the rest were scattered about the house. I had read the cards and notes out loud to Melody as she slept, letting the love from them permeate the room.

Donna and Laurie, the ladies who owned the store with her, had given their statements to the police about how Karen had came into the store and gone up to Melody, sitting in one of the chairs, having a snack. She had yelled, "It's all your fault," and had shot herself in the head. Several customers had been in the store, too, and the police had decided that a statement from Melody was not needed. They had both called over the weekend to check on her and to ask if there were anything they could do for us.

Monday morning, when she got up, Tom and Helen had gone out for the day with friends and wouldn't be back 'til that night. I was in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies from scratch, when she walked up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and rubbed her cheek against my flannel shirt. "I love you, Bill."

"I love you, too, Kitten," I replied, dropping the bag of chocolate chips and turning to hold her.

Her hair was still a little damp from where she had washed it, and she was wearing jeans with the dark green tee-shirt I had bought her. She took off her glasses that were a little fogged over and pressed her face into my neck.

In spite of my best efforts, I was becoming aroused and had to end the moment more quickly than I wanted. Squeezing her, I kissed the top of her head. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded.

"Let me finish up this dough, then, and I'll make you a cheese omelet."

Kissing my cheek, she wandered into the family room and switched on the television. A moment later, I heard Mr. Rogers singing his opening song. Melody sang along with him, and as I mixed the chips into the dough, I could hear her talking to him, apparently responding to whatever he was saying.

I fixed buttered toast to go with the omelet and poured a glass of orange juice to go with the food that I had placed on one of the china plates decorated with gray roses. Placing all this on a wooden tray, I carried it into Melody.

She was scolding Lady Elaine Fairchild about something, but smiled up at me when I placed the tray on the coffee table. "Thank you."

"Do you want honey or jelly?"

She shook her head. "I just want you to sit with me."

When I settled down next to her, she placed my hand on her thigh and began eating. She was finished by the time Mr. Rogers said good-bye.

"That was good," she said, placing the plate back on the tray.

"Thanks."

"I don't cook omelets very well. I -- Bill?" She looked at me. The depths of her eyes were filled with pain and confusion, and I had to force myself not to look away.

"Yes, Kitten?"

"Why do I have new clothes?"

I would have given a million dollars to not have had to answer, but that option was not open to me. I patted my leg. "Come here." When she was settled on my lap and I had her wrapped in my arms, I told the truth, leaving nothing out but the destruction of her bears.

The case has been closed within twenty-four hours, and Helen and I had gone in and cleaned up anything that would cause the house to smell. We had wanted to do more, but Anne had insisted that we leave everything the way it was, as much as possible. Melody had a right to deal with everything, no matter how horrific; this was her life.

The bears had been the one thing I had insisted on her not seeing. They had been decapitated and that was one picture Melody was not going to have in her memories the rest of her life. I had taken them to Paul's mother-in-law to repair. Her eyes, like mine had done, had filled with tears at the sight of the senseless destruction, and she had informed me that I was not going to pay her a cent for the work.

When I finished talking, Melody didn't say anything, and we watched around a half hour of Sesame Street.

After Big Bird and Snuffy sang the alphabet, she sat up and kissed my cheek. "I need to go see the house."

Half an hour later, Melody and I stood inside what had once been her home.

The drive had been a silent one. She had sat looking out the window lost in whatever place she made for dealing with everything that had happened to her, and I had let her be. Anne had assured me that she was strong enough to face everything, and I was trying to believe her in order to not become overprotective.

I watched as she walked around the living room, taking in the destruction of all that she had valued and cherished. She seemed to be absorbing every minute detail. I had not been able to see anything that had not been destroyed and was still overwhelmed with anger at Karen for all that she had done. Melody had to have been feeling many times over what I was experiencing, but she remained silent and seemingly unmoved.

She asked me to let her go through the rest of the place alone; I waited anxiously as she went into the kitchen and upstairs. I glanced at my watch as she came back down the stairs. A half-hour had passed.

Sitting down on the fourth step from the bottom, she softly sang, "I'm so glad we had this time together, just to have a laugh or sing a song. Seems we just get started and before you know it, comes the time we have to say, 'So long.'"

Tears were streaming down both our cheeks by the time she finished, and when I went to her, she stood up and latched on to me, burying her face into my chest. Holding her tightly, I kissed the top of her head and mumbled things I had said when she was sleeping.

Neither of us said anything on the ride back, and when we got into the house she curled up on the sofa in front of the television and watched the original Parent Trap, falling asleep while Brian Keith was trying to discuss his upcoming wedding with Haley Mills.

I went into the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes from earlier; and began baking cookies. While waiting for them to bake, I jotted notes for a new story that I had been playing around with since the night before.

By the time Melody woke up a little after four, I had the story outlined, the kitchen swept and mopped, and a homemade bacon pineapple pizza just out of the oven. She hugged me and said that she would be ready to eat when she put on her pajamas.