Red Cave

Sheryl

1979

Sheryl's sitting on the living room sofa with her husband Walter beside her. He has his long arm around her to comfort her as they read the letter in her trembling hands.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Frankly, I don't know how to write this. By the time you get this, today will be my last day here and I'm excited to be home. I'm sorry for scaring you two and everyone else. I'm sorry for hurting myself and I can honestly say that this time here, though long and frightening, was healing. I was able to reflect on where I went wrong and in doing so, I thought about how I can stay sane. I don't wanna stress you two anymore so don't worry, I won't explain why I did it, but thank you for not disowning me. I say that because I remember you two saying that suicide is a sin against God and it's selfish to those we'll leave behind. Also, I thought about Michael, and I don't want you to be hurt again.

Anyway, I'll see you when I get home. Love, Judy.

"She's coming home." Sheryl's voice quivers as she speaks, forcing down a lump forming in her throat. Tears threaten to spill, and her lips refuse to remain still. She lifts her watery eyes to her husband on her left and says, "Our baby's coming home."

He brings his other arm around her, and she rests her forehead in the crook of his neck with her temple on his shoulder. He feels her heart pounding against his chest and her body shaking. They don't know why Judith tried to drown herself, but like Stevie, they're struggling to remain composed through it all.

After a while, silent tears slip down her cheeks, and they land on his navy-blue button-up.  Sheryl can hear Stevie's screams echoing through the halls, hallucinations from the night he found her unconscious around Christmas in her bathtub.

"Hey," Walter coos when he hears her sniffle, and his gentle voice sends her already broken heart into smaller pieces. She wraps her arms around Walter and holds the letter to his back, wailing uncontrollably like she did when paramedics wheeled Judith out the front door.

She vaguely remembers that day. Judith was distant — contrary to the surges of energy she'd annoy them with — and though Sheryl noticed, she didn't question her behavior. She watched old VHS tapes with the twins and her husband while Judy locked herself in her room, but it wasn't until she heard the tub water running for longer than usual that she sent her son to check on her.

Not only does she often blame herself for not checking on her daughter, but she's angry with herself for sending her son to her. The mental scars he bore after seeing her in her flooding tub, though he kept a smile on his face, peered their ugly heads through what once were innocent, brown eyes. After seeing her unconscious, her mind instantly went to Michael in the hospital during his final moments.

"Dry your eyes." He caresses her back as she slowly draws back. She glances at his pitiful eyes and sniffles. "Let's take the kids and head to Piggly Wiggly. Judy still likes red velvet cakes, right?"

"I don't know." Sheryl sniffles, and when she exhales, her lips fall agape. Her eyes drift onto the grandfather clock in the corner beside the kitchen arch. "She's been gone for so long, I don't know if she'd gotten smaller, taller — happier. I hadn't seen her yet, but I already feel like a stranger is on her way to us."

"Don't say that. It's only been a few months. She's still our little girl." Sheryl and Walter lock eyes for a moment. She remembers the night he took her and her three children to the theater, and while Michael, Wayne, and Stacey watched White Christmas, she and he talked about the idea of true freedom.

The floor creaks upstairs near the banister, and they crane their necks to follow the sound. Walter's back faces the stairs, and Sheryl gazes over his head at the dark void, searching through for Stevie or Vera's soft eyes.

"Guess they know by now she's on her way," he mutters after huffing a dry chuckle. Sheryl wipes her face with the back of her hands and gives a small grin. "You two wanna get dressed? We're heading to the store."

They listen for a response, but all they can hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock and whispering. Their smiles falter as they turn to each other, and she shrugs.

"I guess that's a no. Let's go tell Stacey to come look after them while we're gone." Sheryl pushes her knees for support as she stands to her feet. She drops the paper on the television, glancing at I Love Lucy before strolling toward the front door.