Storms 01 - Family Storms

taken. I had gotten a ninety-eight, and I had an A on my english essay. She looked at it all and widened her smile.
    “Mr. March has gotten to where he’s actually bragging about you. I heard him talking to Mrs. Duval yesterday. We’re all very proud of your accomplishments in so short a time, Sasha.”
    “Thank you.”
    I saw that we were not going in the direction of the mansion.
    “Where are we going?” I asked again.
    “To see a promise fulfilled,” she replied. “Is it true that you might actually be in the spring concert this year?”
    “Mr. Denacio mentioned it, but he didn’t say for sure,” I replied.
    She nodded but looked as if she knew something more. “It would be something for a first-year instrumental student to be included in the school’s senior orchestra. I knew the clarinet would come naturally to you.”
    I had to admit that I didn’t think I would enjoy playing it as much as I had.
    “You deserve your moments of happiness,” she told me. “That’s what today is about.”
    She sat back, and we drove on. Soon it became obvious to me where we were heading, and the realization made me tremble in a way I hadn’t for some time. Minutes later, we turned into the cemetery and drove as far as we could before Mrs. March and I had to get out and walk the rest of the way to Mama’s grave. As we drew closer, I realized why she had brought me.
    There on the tombstone was the inscription I had wanted. Under Mama’s name and dates, it read, “who showed her daughter a little bit of heaven.” And beneaththat was the calligraphy for
heaven.
It looked just like Mama’s work hanging in the Gravediggers.
    Mrs. March stood back and smiled as I stepped up to the stone and touched the engraved words. The engraving certainly made the tombstone special, but as I stood looking at it, I simply couldn’t imagine Mama lying below, shut up in the dark, cool earth. Most of the years we had been together, she had felt trapped, trapped by Daddy’s betrayals and failure to provide for us as well as he should have, trapped after he had deserted us, and then trapped by our terrible fate. She had certainly trapped herself with her drinking, and now death had trapped her. How could I free her?
    “Is it like you wanted it?” Mrs. March asked. Without turning, I nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Sasha,” she said, and walked away.
    I felt my legs weaken and sat on Mama’s grave with my forehead just touching the cool headstone.
    “Don’t worry, Mama,” I whispered. “I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll never forget you, no matter how much they give me or do for me, no matter where I go and what I become. You will always be with me.”
    I thought I was going to sit there and cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I tightened up inside with a resolve that made me feel stronger, harder. I took some deep breaths, and then I kissed the tombstone, rose, and started back to the car.
    When I got in, Mrs. March said, “I was hoping this would please you and not make you sad, Sasha.”
    “Yes, I’m pleased. Thank you, Mrs. March.”
    She stared at me a moment, looking a bit hurt. What did she expect me to call her, “Mother”?
    “Let’s go home, Grover,” she said, and we drove out of the cemetery.
    Neither of us spoke for quite a while. I stared out my window. Just before we were home, she told me that for the first time since I had arrived, she had to go away that coming weekend with Mr. March.
    “It’s a traditional thing we do this time every year. We meet some of Donald’s old friends in San Francisco and go to Carmel. I’ll leave very specific instructions with Mrs. Duval, who is quite capable of looking after things, and after you, while I’m gone, and I’ll call often.”
    “I’ll be okay,” I said.
    “Of course you will. Why shouldn’t you?”
    I thought she might add that Alena had always been okay while she was gone, but she said nothing more. The night before they left, both Mr. and Mrs. March warned Kiera not to take advantage of their absence. Even Mr. March sounded firm and threatening. Kiera kept her head down and didn’t come back with any smart remarks. The last few days, she had come home right after school and shut herself in her room, and when she returned from her therapy sessions, she not only shut herself in her room but also refused to come down to dinner.
    At first, I thought all of this was her way of playing her parents again. She was hoping to punish them for