Yet the words of warning not to contact her came back to him and he didn’t want to risk her being fired. They would both need her income to live the kind of lifestyle they wanted. He would have to wait, and trust that she would reach out to him again. He just knew she would now that the floodgates were open.
And since she did remember him, he also felt maybe he could be a little more brazen about in-person contact with her, away from the prying eyes of management, of course.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carol
June 2 and 3
Between the sixPMand elevenPMnews, Carol decided that she would, indeed, attend the vigil Channel 9 was planning at the park near the station. How could she not?
Naturally she assumed Jim would accompany her, but he reminded her that things like funerals and memorials always made him uncomfortable. He had walked out of his own mother’s service to stand in the church parking lot because the whole thing was giving him so much anxiety, so she didn’t push it, knowing she could represent the two of them. Jim offered to drive her instead.
“Traffic is probably going to be a nightmare, what with how popular Faith is… err, I mean, was,” he said. “If I drop you off you won’t have to worry about parking.”
Carol nodded. She would ask Olivia to go with her instead.
It was late evening when she sent another text to Olivia, who hadn’t been in touch since they spoke at noon and said she might stop by after taking a walk. Carol explained that she was planningto attend the vigil and assumed Olivia wanted to go too and that Jim could give them both a ride.
There was no response. Carol waited twenty minutes, checking her phone often. Then she started to worry and tried calling several times. Olivia didn’t pick up.
“Jim, why is she not writing me back or answering?”
“Honey, she’s a college kid. It’s a Saturday night. She’s probably out with friends. Leave her be. If she wants to go to the vigil I’m sure she’ll text you back before it starts tomorrow and we can swing by to pick her up. Maybe she doesn’t want to go. Give her some space to deal with what happened. It’s a lot for a new intern.”
“You’re right, you’re right, I shouldn’t expect her to text me back. She probably needs a night out with friends.”
Carol shifted her mind instead to what she was going to wear the next day. She wanted to stand in solidarity with the Fair-Weather Friends Fan Club and dress in yellow along with donning some of the famous earrings. Carol only owned the cloud pair Jim had gotten her for Christmas, so that choice was easy.
Her brain sifted through the yellow item options in her closet and dresser drawers, and she finally decided on a simple mustard top plus light cotton white capri pants. It was going to be warm again, but Carol didn’t like wearing shorts in public, the varicose veins in her legs always felt too ugly for anyone but Jim to see.
Carol and Jim watched the late news, which like the fivePMshow featured a very long segment devoted just to Faith with lots of tearful comments. This time Tom, Veronica, and Roger were each in the tributes, interviewed at their respective homes.
Carol had to admit that in addition to listening to their wonderful words about Faith, she was also curious about the tiny bit of the personal things she could see over their shoulders in theinterviews: Veronica’s all-white kitchen, Roger’s office space with walls dotted with sports pennants, and Tom’s living room, a massive stone fireplace behind him with framed family photos on the mantel. These people were celebrities, and celebrity homes were endlessly fascinating to her.
The newscast featured another touching tribute from Matthew and interview clips with Abby and Chuck too. Carol was feeling a little less shocked and a little more as if her mind was starting—just barely starting—to process the information. There was nothing she could do to bring Faith back, but she would honor her memory in any way possible. She was looking forward to the vigil.
Before bed Carol looked at her phone several times more to see if there was anything from Olivia.
But there was still no response. Jim reminded her that Olivia might be out at a bar or a movie or something.
It was not a great night of sleep, but it was enough to get by and attend the vigil. In the morning she almost texted Olivia again but decided to heed Jim’s advice. Olivia was a college student and was not even her own daughter. Carol had to remember that and give her some breathing room. If Olivia wanted to attend the vigil she would let Carol know. Carol decided to take some pictures of the event to share with Olivia instead for when they did get together.
Jim and Carol planned carefully for Carol’s trip. Sunglasses, sunscreen, water, a protein bar, and lots of tissues for the sure-to-come emotions. They didn’t know how long the vigil would last or what the seating at the park might be like so Jim got out a camping chair in a bag with a strap Carol could carry. She placed everything else into a large fanny pack, and they drove the thirty minutes to the park.
The parking lot was packed, and Carol saw a good number of women in various shades of yellow getting out of their respective cars.
“Just drop me here and I’ll walk,” she directed as their vehicle inched along in the line behind others. Jim stopped, threw his blinkers on, gave her a peck on the cheek, and promised to come back whenever she texted him. He would find a place to get a coffee and read an actual old-fashioned newspaper in the meantime.
Carol followed the other mourners down a path from the parking lot to a spot where a gazebo sat in a large grassy area flanked by trees. Rows of folding chairs had been set up, but they were all taken and many people were standing. Carol was grateful for her camping chair.
A woman in a Channel 9 polo was walking around with name tags and markers, and Carol took one and wrote her name, sticking it to her shirt. Those in yellow tops and dresses—presumably all from the Facebook group—seemed to be congregating to one side, and Carol drifted that way, nodding at a few others who were also wearing forecast earrings.
Finding a spot partially under a tree for a sliver of shade, she opened her camping chair, sat down, and looked around. The crowd was a huge mix of ages, races, and what looked like economic status. There were families with strollers and babies, older couples leaning into each other as they slowly walked, professional-looking folks talking on cell phones or into watches, and a group from a local college withMETEOROLOGIST CLUBstamped on their shirts. Faith had truly touched every part of Detroit, Carol thought, and she nodded approvingly.
A woman about Carol’s age and holding a similar chair came up on one side of Carol and plopped down, giving Carol a nod and a smile. Carol returned the greeting. A microphone was setup in the gazebo, and some official-looking people were milling about near it. Several TV cameramen were walking around with cameras on their shoulders, and others had cameras on tripods at the edges of the vigil. She heard a slight buzzing overhead and looked up to see a drone above them all. She guessed this would all be a story on the later news.
A woman stepped to the microphone and tapped it.
