Providence Ch. 01

Mari's world had collapsed. The world dimmed and the light was gone, just like that.

"Ma'am... Mrs. Foster, please, ma'am, can you hear me?" the sheriff patrolman tried to get her attention. "Mrs. Foster..." the sheriff sighed, signaled to his female colleague for assistance, and stepped aside.

Mari couldn't hear anything else afterwards. Her head swam with a million thoughts, regrets, and guilt.

She remembered opening her door, seeing two sheriff patrolmen, and hearing those dreaded words: "Mrs. Mari Foster? Ma'am, we're sorry to inform you there's been an accident. We'd like for you to come with us to the hospital to identify the bodies..."

Then everything felt as if she were underwater -- hazy, in slow motion, and all the voices and colors were desaturated.

She remembered looking down at her sneakers she slipped on as she sat in the back of the patrol car. Then walking through the hospital doors, down the hallway, goodness knows where, until they reached a sterile-looking room with three gurneys in it.

Then everything around her started to hit with such a stark, vivid contrast of colors she had to squint to see. "Uh... I can't, I-I-I mean, I can't look, I n-n-need to call somebody first," she stammered.

"Mrs. Foster, I need you to confirm the identities of these bodies," the medical examiner said.

"I-I-I can't, not yet, please. I need to call somebody, first," Mari said.

The female sheriff, bless her, exchanged a look with the medical examiner and led Mari out to the hallway. She was surprised she'd had the wherewithal to take her phone, her wallet, and her keys with her, but at that point, she was surprised she was still even standing.

She took out her phone and, with trembling fingers, scrolled through her contacts.

"What the hell... it's ten on a Saturday night, and there's church tomorrow, who's gonna answer the phone?" she thought. "No, not Nina, not grandma, I can't..." she pressed Don's number. "I hope Liza doesn't mind I called her husband first," she thought.

The phone rang, once, twice, and she almost considered hanging up the phone when Don answered. "Hey girl, what's up?"

"Hey, Don... I uh, I'm sorry I'm calling you so late. But, uh, I uh..."

"What is it? Is everything ok?" Don on the other line started.

"Um Don... there's been an accident, and I uh, I can't do this by myself... could you --"

"Where? We'll come meet you."

"Uh, I'm at Mercer --" Mari looked at the sheriff for help.

"The morgue," she answered.

"Th-th-the morgue, Don." Mari almost broke down at that point.

"Ok, girl, sit tight. We'll be there in twenty minutes." Don said.

"Thanks, Don." Mari said. She hung up and slumped down onto the floor. She looked up at the sheriff and said, "I have to wait for my friends to show up. I can't do this by myself. I-I-I can't look at them by myself..."

The two sheriffs looked at each other and nodded. The man walked off to look for a blanket and the woman knelt down beside her. "Can I wait with you?" Mari nodded.

The drive usually took twenty minutes, but to Don and Liza, it may as well have taken them an hour. They made it in record time, but it felt interminable.

"Don, what do you think happened? What exactly did she say?" Liza asked, squeezing her husband's hand.

She looked out the window, seeing nothing in the dark of the country roads.

"I don't know, honey. I know it's not like them to call this late, especially with church tomorrow. The kids are usually asleep by now and they would be too. She just said that there's been an accident and she can't do it by herself," Don replied.

"Oh my god. I hope it's not what I think it is," said Liza.

---------------

Four years ago, in May, Mari gave birth to her and Kenzo's first child. He was beautiful. He was made even more beautiful considering they waited six years to have him. They named him Lucas. Mari had never felt so overwhelmed, so inadequate, and so in love all at the same time.

She looked at Kenzo and her heart swelled. "I love you, baby. And I love our baby," she said, before they both broke down and sobbed.

Kenzo took Lucas' tiny hand, still shriveled up from all those months spent inside, and nuzzled it against his face. "I love you, little man."

Two years after Lucas, Elise was born. She had the same eyes as her brother and that's where all the similarities ended. Where Lucas was tough, she was tender. Where he was bouncing off the walls, she was content to sit and snuggle. Both were precious in Mari's and Kenzo's eyes and there was never a dull moment in the Foster house.

Both parents decided it was best for Mari to stay home and educate the children there, so Mari retired from her position as one of the secretaries at the church her family attended.

She had never been so stretched to her limits as when she stayed home with her toddlers. Every day presented as much opportunities as much as it did challenges, and she joked that she never had trouble falling asleep anymore.

At some point in her ten-year marriage, she started feeling run-down. She and Kenzo were both children of divorces, and both swore they'd never go down that path. In fact, it was never on the table. "You'd have to kill me, babe," Kenzo chuckled.

"If you even feel yourself dying, just go ahead and shoot me, ok? Don't you dare leave me alone with these kids!" Mari shot back, with a playful glint in her dark brown eyes.

Kenzo would always just laugh that joyful laugh of his, then rush off to prevent Lucas from jumping off the couch or keep Elise from shoving a chunk of cantaloupe in her mouth.

Mari and Kenzo had gotten comfortable in the routine of home life and raising the kids. Both had gained more weight and had more trouble losing it, both had had no inhibitions around each other, and both had, to their chagrin, somewhat neglected to stoke the romance and intentionality that had marked the earlier years of their marriage. As a result, Mari couldn't remember the last time Kenzo had taken her out on a date or even received any flowers. Sure, she couldn't fault her husband for providing for her and the kids' needs, but she missed the spontaneity and the carefree life they both led before the kids came. Sex was better, though, she thought. Somehow, two children had not prevented them from enjoying each other; rather, they delighted more in pleasuring and giving pleasure to each other.

"Whoever said sex was going to be worse with kids was a damn liar," Kenzo would say after one of their sessions.

A year after giving birth to Elise, Mari thought she'd come out of it relatively scot-free. There were no tell-tale signs of postpartum depression that she could recognize, surprising her given the sheer force of it after Lucas was born. She was adjusting to having two little ones running circles around her, all day, every day, hanging on to her legs, wearing out "Mama!" like it was going out of style, homeschooling her preschooler, cleaning the house, cooking the meals, running errands, all of it.

She thought she had a pretty good handle on all of it, so much so that she even stopped asking for babysitters to come and help. However, she felt alone and under-appreciated, but seeing how hard Kenzo worked and how much he helped her around the house made her feel guilty even thinking that way.

She'd stopped asking him if they could go on dates because she knew they didn't have enough left at the end of each paycheck to go out, let alone pay a babysitter. She'd stopped asking him to do certain chores because, "I shouldn't have to tell him to do it after he knows it needs to be done," she thought ruefully. She'd feel sorry for herself then throw herself in the next round of laundry that needed to be folded and put away.