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"Well, Susan, maybe I'll see you around town again soon," the woman told the little girl, "but I have to get back to my run."

"We'll see each other soon," Susan answered.

The woman waved at Claudia and turned to run, when Susan said, "Goodbye Grandma Mary."

Clearly shocked, since she didn’t remember telling the girl her name, she just jogged off.

Memories flooded back to the woman as she ran. She missed her daughter bitterly. It had been less than a month since she found out that Jane had been killed and that her daughter, the woman's granddaughter, was lost.

Mary remembered the phone call from detective John Lewis. His name was seared into her memory because of the pain she felt in her heart when she found out her daughter had died. And when the detective came to the house and told them that their granddaughter was missing, something in her snapped.

That was the night she left. After detective John Lewis left, she couldn't do it anymore and she left, too. She ran upstairs, threw some clothing into a bag and got into her car. Her husband didn't even try to stop her.

It was like they both knew. They both knew it was over. The death of their daughter, their drug addicted daughter, was the ultimate sign of failure.

They didn't love each other anymore. He was too interested in his work and she grew tired of accommodating him. She didn't want a child in the first place, he did. She didn't care about money, he did. She didn't care about having the right friends, he did.

All she wanted was her husband. But that was too much to ask. She grew bitter. She resented her own daughter. He wanted the child, but didn't want to help raise her.

All he ever had were demands. For both of them. He demanded perfection and neither she nor her daughter could live up to his ideals.

Eventually her daughter cracked, gave up, and took off. And Mary didn't do anything to help her. She left her own daughter to die in her own home and then to die on the streets.

Even when Jane came back the last time, pregnant and asking for help, she didn't open up. She didn't confront the problem. She felt like it was all her fault.

So, when she found out her daughter was dead, she just left him. She went to stay with a friend of hers who was divorced. Someone she felt would understand. Since then she had spent most of her time thinking.

And it hurt even more that her husband hadn't once tried to contact her since she left.

Now she was seeing and hearing things. How could her granddaughter be in Rye? It was impossible to believe. Was the girl's name really Susan or had she just heard what she wanted? And Grandma Mary, that couldn't have been what she said.

As she ran back to her friend's house, Mary wondered how her life could have turned out so wrong.


[Copyright Reuben Gregg Brewer, 2005. All rights reserved.]
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