Ella is deflated. She cannot breathe. There are tears that seem to be ready to overtake her at any moment. She has to escape. She has to be alone. She wishes more than anything that she had someone to hold onto in this moment, but she doesn't, so at the very least, she needs to be by herself. There is a "Quiet Room" on her floor. It is a small, dark room with a couch and some chairs, a place for grieving families to hide away. She goes there.

There is no one around and no one that she expects could need the room, so Ella locks the door and sits down, sinking into the plush couch. There are several boxes of tissue around and she snatches one of these up and holds it in her lap.

Her mind is racing and the tears are streaming down her cheeks. He can't be that sick. He was only in for heart problems and now this? What could he have ever done to deserve this? They can't be right; he must get better. The thoughts prove to be too much for her. She is mentally and physically drained. She lays down and the couch and tries not to think of anything. She wishes there was someone to hold her and tell her nothing is wrong. She wishes there was someone to rub her back and dry her eyes. Her loneliness is almost as suffocating as the knowledge that Mr. Kelley is dying.

She is alone and there is nothing she can do about it, but one thing she can do is write. She pulls a pen from her front pocket and looks around for something to write on. There are all kinds of magazines and newspapers in stacks around the room, but nothing that is fit to write on. She holds the tissue box up and examines it. She could disassemble it and write on the cardboard it's made of. Ella removes the tissues and sets them on the coffee table. She pulls at the seams of the box until it is one flat piece of cardboard. She writes, drawing from memory some of the things that Jonathan's last letter was about.

Jonathan,
Dear is a good choice for a favorite word. A good choice for a least favorite word is cancer. I found out today that one of my patients has cancer. The kind people don't get rid of, the kind that kills people. The funny thing is that he isn't even my patient. I'm supposed to be worrying about tiny babies whose lungs and/or hearts don't work right, whose immune systems can't protect them from the world. And yet here I am, crying over an old man with terminal cancer. He's actually the grandfather of one of my babies, so it is doubly hard.

That is all she can write. She stares at the words until they are a blur behind a wall of tears. She feels better though. The tears slowly stop streaming and she tries to clean up her face with tissues. She wonders if she can get to a bathroom without anyone seeing her. She distributes the tissues she took from the box among other boxes in the room and folds the cardboard she has written on as best she can. Then, with her head down, she emerges from the room.

There are few people in the halls and Ella is grateful for this. She slips into the bathroom with no one giving her a second look. Once there, she splashes cool water on her face and tries to look as normal as she can. Her face, however, is more drawn than it was before. If anyone were to look at her carefully they would know something was wrong with her. Ella, satisfied with her appearance, leaves the bathroom and goes toward the nurses station.

Marcie is there and is asking someone to run an errand for her. Ella overhears, "...to the medical library and get me these books? I called and they should all be there, but you'll have to find them on the shelves. They're short-staffed, so no one can pull the books for me."

"I'll go," Ella says. Marcie is surprised and, after seeing Ella, concerned. "I'll go," Ella says again.

"Very well," Marcie says. "Cindy, I'll let Ella go. You can come give me a hand with something else." She gives Ella the list of books and a strange look, but goes about her business.

The library is an extensive one, located in a building right next to the hospital. The pathways that connect the two buildings are tree-lined and the serenity is refreshing to Ella. So is getting out of the hospital. She is supposed to be able to handle these sorts of situations, but they are too much sometimes. When she is this overwhelmed, she has to get away. Ella takes her time with this errand.

She folds the paper Marcie gave her and puts it in her pocket. She will get the books, but first she has to do some research. She goes to the card catalog and types in "Cancer, Pancreatic." This is a medical library and so there are many results for the search. Ella picks a few randomly and begins her study of the disease. She locates those books and finds an empty table among the crowd of over-stressed medical students.

She reads:

Scientists do not know what causes most cases of pancreatic cancer, but they have identified several risk factors... This type of cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer-related deaths in men and women. Some 19% of patients survive at least one year after they are diagnosed. Only around 4% survive five years after diagnosis... The main reason for such a poor prognosis is the low occurence of early detection. The pancreas is located deeply within the body, so tumors are hard to see or feel during most routine physical examinations. There are no blood tests or other forms of screening that can detect pancreatic cancer in its early stages. Another important reason is the lack of symptoms. By the time patients usually experience symptoms, the cancer has reached a large size and/or spread to other organs.

She cannot read more; she doesn't want to know any further details about the disease. The more she knows, the larger that pit of dread and sorrow in her stomach grows. She walks away from the table, without even closing the book she had been looking at, and is halfway to the door when she remembers Marcie's list. It crosses her mind to forget the assignment she is supposed to be carrying out, but her behavior has been so erratic lately that she won't risk it. She doesn't want to lose her job over this.

It only takes a few minutes to locate and gather the books Marcie needs. Ella is too distracted to even notice what they are about. She loads them up in her arms and heads to the front desk to check them out. The librarian there checks them out for her and Ella again lifts them into her arms.

"You need some help with those, ma'am?" a young man asks her. He must be a student, not much younger than Ella is, but she looks at him as if there are decades between them. He hasn't yet lost a patient, she thinks as he takes the books from her. "Where are you going?" he asks.

"Neonatal," she says. Talking feels foreign to her, she has been lost in the intensity of her own thoughts for so long.

He seems to understand and falls into step behind her. "So, you a nurse?" he asks, although it is obvious that she is. She ignores him, but only because she can't concentrate on conversation right now. He doesn't try again. They finish their journey together in silence.

Once they reach her floor, Ella takes back the books. "Thank you," she says. "I appreciate the help."

He nods and smiles, "My pleasure."

Ella finds Marcie in her office. "Your books," she says.

Marcie has been wondering what has taken Ella so long, but doesn't ask. "Thank you," she says. Ella is about to leave, but Marcie stops her saying, "I can see that you aren't feeling well. Why don't you head on home?"

"Yes, okay," Ella says. She begins to walk away.

"Ella?" Marcie stops her.

"Yes?"

"If you need to take some time off, I understand."

Ella wishes she did understand. "No," she says, "I'll be fine. I just need some rest." The truth of this statement hits her later. She needs rest mentally, physically, and emotionally. She is running on empty. She gets her things and goes home.

#

At home, in her room, Ella is changing clothes. She finds the folded up tissue box in her pocket and unfolds it. She reads what she had written earlier and wonders aloud, "Has he ever lost someone to cancer?" She will ask him later. She places the unfinished letter on her desk and gets into bed, intent on sleeping until it doesn't hurt anymore. Her eyes are closed and sleep isn't far away from her. She is trying to think about something different, something other than Mr. Kelley and Brooke and Jonathan. She is trying to think of the most random and unrelated thing she can. She is asleep before her mind lands on anything.

She doesn't wake up until the familiar grind of brakes and the release of air pressure that signify the arrival of her brothers' school bus cause her to stir. Life won't let me get any real and lasting rest, she thinks. There are people that depend on her, things she has to do. The old saying holds true. Life does indeed go on, even, or maybe especially, when you think it won't or can't or shouldn't. Ella, though, is grateful that her brothers are home. They are people she can count on for comfort and support, as limited as it may be. She is not alone anymore.

"Ella, what's wrong?" Jacob asks. He has only to look at her to tell that something is bothering her. He lets his backpack slip to the floor and goes to his sister, to look at her more closely.

"Nothing, Jake," she says. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't," he says. "Tell me what it is." He is a natural-born worrier.

"I had a bad day is all," she says. "You know how I get when one of my patients is really sick."

"One of the babies?" He has often heard Ella talk about the health and well-being of her babies. They are the only patients he is aware of her having.

"No," she says. "It's an older man."

"But I thought you were a baby nurse."

"Well, sometimes I meet other people at the hospital."

"Sick people, huh?"

"Sometimes," she says. "Sometimes."

"Don't worry, Ella. He'll get better. They always get better."

Ella can't help but smile. This statement of hope, however unfounded, uplifts her like few other things could. "I hope so," she says. "I hope you're right."

Tyler, who has been quietly putting his things in his room, comes out and says, "I don't have any homework. Can we put in a movie?"

Ella looks at Jacob. "How much homework do you have?" she asks. For children their age, plans are often made around homework. How much homework one or the other of her brothers has can determine what the whole group can or can't do.

Jacob, unlike most children, is aware of this and plans ways to maximize his free time. He says, "I finished it in class."

"What do you guys think about going to the movie theater and watching a movie there?" Ella asks. She doesn't know what is playing or at what times, but she wants to get out and find something to distract her mind for awhile. Any movie sounds good.

"Yeah!" Tyler yells.

"Can we do that? It's a school night." Jacob is all about rules and routines. Things like trips to the movies are usually reserved for Friday and Saturday nights. This excursion is strange and he isn't quite comfortable with it.

"Just this once," Ella says, "if you promise not to tell anybody." She is only halfway serious. She doesn't want them to think that they get to go to the movies every day, but she also doesn't want them to think it is out of the question to go in the middle of the week.

"I won't tell nobody," Tyler says. He puts his finger to his lips and shushes.

"What do you think, Jake? Movies or no?"

He is actually thinking about it. After a short time, he says, "Movies."

#

There are two movies playing that would be acceptable for young children. Ella lets Jacob and Tyler decide between some cartoon movie based on a show she has never heard of and a live-action movie that combines an animal and a sports team. She is relieved when they choose the live-action movie, if only because cartoon voices are generally too high pitched for her comfort.

"Can I get candy?" Tyler asks. They are standing in the lobby, just inside the door.

"And popcorn," Jacob chimes in.

"One thing each," Ella tells them. She wants them to have fun and she wants to let go a little, but she doesn't have a fortune to spend at the concession stand.

"Aw, man," Tyler says, but he doesn't really care. He and Jacob run to the counter and peer in at all the choices. "I want chocolate, Ella," Tyler says almost immediately. "Lots and lots of chocolate."

Jacob takes more time to decide. Ella is beginning to get impatient and has to stop herself from rushing him. Finally, he says, "I want those sour gummy things."

Ella gets a large popcorn and a large drink for them all to share and they head into the darkened movie theater. It is almost completely empty and Ella is so glad. She wants to be around as few people as she can. They sit down near the exact middle of the theater and begin to eat snacks and wait. They are still ten minutes early.

Ella is lost in her thoughts, something she does not want to be, when Jacob asks, "Is Jonathan coming for dinner again tonight?" He is sitting to her left.

"I doubt it," she says. This makes her realize that not only did she not know he was coming the previous night, but she doesn't know where he is now or what he's doing.

"I wish he would," Jacob says. "That was fun."

"Can we have waffles again?" Tyler asks. His mouth is full of chocolate candy when he says this, and he is on Ella's right.

"No, we can't have waffles," Ella says. But before this she had not thought as far ahead as dinner.

"Can you find out if he's coming?" Jacob asks. He is truly concerned. "Call him."

"Jake, he's really busy. He may not even be in this town anymore." Keeping up with both conversations is getting to be a challenge and it shows in her voice.

"What are we going to have then?" Tyler asks, oblivious to Ella's frustration.

"I don't know yet. Be thinking about what you want," she tells him.

"You could at least call and invite him," Jacob says. "Even if he is in another place."

"I want pizza," Tyler says.

"No pizza," Ella says. She does not know what to say to Jacob. He's right and she knows he's right, but Ella feels weird calling to invite him again. She thinks it might look needy or desparate.

"I'll call him," Jacob says. "Give me your phone."

She almost thinks this is a good idea, but catches herself. If she would come off as needy, how much worse would it look for her to have her little brother call? "I didn't bring it," she says. And thank goodness, she adds silently.

"Oh," he says. "Then maybe when we get home."

They are all silent now. Tyler is thinking about food, Jacob about Jonathan. Ella is trying not to think about either. She is surprised at how glad she is when the movie starts.

#

Later, when they are home, Ella is again confronted by both issues. She doesn't want to cook and she doesn't want to call. She almost has herself worked into a miserable state about these things when Tyler runs to where she is sitting in the living room. "Who's out there?" he asks.

"Out where?" she asks, completely bewildered.

"Outside. I heard a car door slam." He is looking, almost nervously, over his shoulder.

"I didn't hear anything," Ella says. She wonders if it is possible that although in the middle of a major tour, Jonathan Lewis is back at her house for the second night in a row.

"I heard it, I promise," Tyler says.

Jacob comes in and says, "I heard it too and I saw lights coming up the driveway." It is just barely dark outside.

Ella gets up. She now believes someone is out there and wonders who. Her desire for it to be Jonathan is so strong that she is holding her breath in anticipation. She looks out the window, but cannot see anything but a dark outline of a person who is approaching the house. "Turn on the outside light," she calls to her brothers. Tyler gets there first. From her place by the window, Ella can see as the yard is illuminated and the mystery person is revealed.

"Mom?" The word slips out of Ella's mouth and sends both Jacob and Tyler into a frenzy.

"It's Mom?" Jacob asks. At the same time, Tyler screams, "Mom!" This is the first time she's been home before dinner in a long time. She lets herself in.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Tyler asks. He means no disrespect by this. He is just not used to her being home at this time.

She laughs it off. "Do I need a reason to come see my boys?" she asks.

Ella cringes. "Really?" she says. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," their mother says. "I just wanted to take my family to dinner. You all get your shoes on and we'll go."

"You know what?" Ella says. "I think I'm going to stay home. You go ahead."

"Annabella, are you sure you want to miss out on dinner?" Her mother tries to persuade her. "It's my treat and I thought we could have a chance to talk and, you know, catch up."

"Thanks, but I've had kind of a rough day. I'm just going to turn in." There is more sadness in this than bitterness or anger. She is not mad at her mother for coming, not mad for all the times she didn't come. She is just so sad that this is a rare occasion and her thoughts are still with Mr. Kelley.

"If you're sure," their mother says. Ella is in closer proximity to her than she has been in months, maybe years. She can smell her mother's perfume. She would barely have to move to touch her. And then it happens. Ella doesn't even know what is going on until it's over. Her mother hugs her. "Feel better," she says, and she lets go. Ella is still reeling from this after her mother and brothers are gone.

Ella goes into her room and looks for the Kleenex box from before. She is going over what just happened in her head and she needs to talk about it. But her favorite ears are not there, so she will work the words out in an email and send them to Jonathan.

She writes:

The strangest thing that has happened in a long time just happened to me. My mother not only came home before midnight, but she then proceeded to inquire about my day, express concern about my life, and, get this, she hugged me. I am still in a daze over this. I am still trying to figure it out. I feel like I just spent a very brief amount of time in an alternate reality, a parallel universe, if you will. I almost asked, "Who are you and what have you done with my real mother?" This is very odd indeed.
I think I may just file this entire week under STRANGE. There really is no other word that aptly describes it. I have experienced every possible emotion, from the most extreme happiness to the most intense sadness and have been more confused than ever before.
Explain, for instance, how it came about that you showed up at my door yesterday. I mean, it stands to reason that you, being a person on a tour that takes you daily to a new place, would have no time for such things as backtracking to my hometown for a breakfast dinner.
And explain how an man, who except for a minor heart attack is healthy, suddenly is found to have cancer growing deep within his body.
And then, if you are still with me, explain my mother's behavior. How is she so distant for so long and then just suddenly there?
It all seems so surreal. It seems as though I will wake up in the morning and none of this will have ever happened. I will wake up and go about my day and I'll see you in concert and meet you backstage and then you will be gone. I will go to check on Mr. Kelley and he will have been released from the hospital in good condition with nothing more than a strict warning about eating less fried food and more fruits and vegetables. I will speak to my mother and she will be just as concerned about my life and my brothers' lives as she always was. That is, not at all.
The strange thing is that as resistent as I am to change, the changes have been good, with the one exception of Mr. Kelley's condition. If he were only better, my life would be this strange, surreal, and yet wonderfully new thing. I am going now to puzzle over these things, to wonder where you are at this moment, to type up the words I wrote to you in the first few moments of my dispair, and then finally, to sleep. I hope your life makes more sense than mine and that your dreams are pleasant.
With love and wonder,
Ella

Ella goes to bed when she finishes. She puts on the first Jonathan Lewis album she ever got and turns it up so that no other sound can come near her. And in that sonic coccoon, she falls asleep. She does not dream.

Jonathan replies to her email before she wakes up. So, the first thing she does the next morning is reads his words.

She reads:

Dear Ella,
That was the absolute best closing to a letter that I have ever seen. "With love and wonder." It just sounds so perfectly poetic. It was a wonderful (ha, get it?) ending to a lovely (okay, I'll stop) letter. Seriously though, I am sorry you are so lost in your own world. Mine moves along with surprising predictability. One might think that doing the "crazy" rockstar thing day after day would be exciting and different, but really there is so much normalcy in it that it borders on boring. Like, what do we do when we arrive in a new city? Sometimes we seek out new and different things to do, but we usually just go wander around the Wal-Mart at two o'clock in the morning or something equally as dull.
I wish I could explain something like cancer or your mother's, dare I say, erratic behavior, but you will have to settle for only one of the three things being explained. That is all that I am capable of. That one thing is this:
How I Landed on Your Doorstep Yesterday, an essay by J. E. Lewis
The thing about tours is that they don't always go on the most logical path from city to city around the country. They often loop around and backtrack for a variety of reasons. It's not that we were back in your town, but rather that we were looping around and in the process passed by not far from you. Throw into the equation a couple of days off. Do you think I could stay away?
The answer, in case it wasn't obvious enough, is no. I could not stay away. You know that Elton John song that says, "You can tell everybody that this is your song..."? Well, you can tell everybody that I made you French toast and eggs. That'll have to do until I finish the future masterpiece "Ella". Not that I came just to make you breakfast foods at the wrong time of day. I wanted to see you again and didn't know when I'd have another chance. Maybe it was a bit impulsive.
Some, however, would argue that it was romantic. Not that I was trying to be romantic. That would be a little presumptuous of me, wouldn't it? So, we'll say that I wanted to spend my day off visiting a friend.
The end.
Pathetic essay, right? You can see why I was not an English major. You know, besides the whole music thing.
Anyway, I hate to stop, but I have to go. I am pretending right now that I am hugging you as tightly as I can, trying to squeeze the unhappiness out. I hope that thought can bring you at least some small bit of comfort.
With love and comfort,
Jonathan

Ella gets ready for work and thinks about what she has just read. It's funny, she thinks, that she has known Jonathan for only a week, but he is capable of cheering her up like no one else ever has been. She feels like she can face the day only because of him and he isn't even with her. Not physically anyway. She dresses quickly and goes to the kitchen. Jacob and Tyler are talking. She can hear them before she gets there. They are usually quiet in the mornings, but this morning they have much to discuss.

"Hey, guys," Ella says brightly.

They don't notice her at first, but when they do, Tyler excitedly says, "Ella, guess what."

"What?" she asks. His smile is contagious and she catches it.

"Mom's taking us on a vacation. All of us, the whole family. Can you believe it?"

She can't. "What are you talking about?" she asks. She looks to Jacob for an explanation.

He is excited too, maybe more than Ella has ever seen him. "He's serious," Jacob says. "She said we could all pick out a place together and she'll take us when we're out of school next week."

"When did she say this? Last night?" Ella doesn't want to say that she doesn't think it'll ever happen. She wants them to be happy.

"You should've come, Ella," Tyler says. "It was so fun. We ate pizza and went to the arcade. I won Mom a plastic monkey."

"Yeah, and I won her a stuffed puppy." Jacob cuts in. "She said she's going to put them on her desk at work."

Ella is having trouble picturing her mother in an arcade. She is having trouble picturing plastic and stuffed toys on her mother's desk. She wonders, briefly, if she's dreaming.

"That's great," she says, trying to feign excitement. Really, she wishes she was as excited as they are.

There was talk of a vacation once before though. A year of two back. Their mother had told the kids they'd go to a big theme park near their grandparents' house and stay a whole week doing all kinds of fun things. But as the time drew closer for them to make preparations, their mother seemed less and less interested. She wouldn't talk about the trip and then two days before they were to leave, she had Ella break it to her brothers. They weren't going. It had something to do with an important business trip or a high-priority client meeting or something equally as ridiculous. Ella vowed then that she'd never get sucked in again. And she'd never again do her mother's dirty work.

"Where do you want to go?" Jacob asks. "I think we should go to the beach."

"That's sounds great," Ella says. She is wondering how to stay removed from this situation without being too obvious about it.

"Do you think we'd stay somewhere with a pool?" Tyler asks. He won't care where they go as long as there is a pool involved.

"Probably will," Jacob says and Ella takes this opportunity to slip away to the other side of the kitchen to make her coffee. She still listens to what they say.

"I'll have to get a mask, then, and some flippers." Tyler is planning this swimming thing out.

Jacob helps. "Yeah," he says, "and some rings that we can dive for." He pauses, thinking. "And some floats. Man, this is going to be so cool."

"We should go look for our bathing suits," Tyler says and he jumps up.

Ella stops him before he leaves the room. "No, Ty, we can do that this afternoon, okay?" She comes back to the table. Her coffee is still percolating. "Did you tell Mom about the movie?" she asks. She doesn't care so much about that as she does about changing she subject.

"Yeah," Jacob says.

Tyler says, "She said we should've called her and asked her to go. She wanted to see it."

"How come we didn't ask her?" Jacob asks.

"I didn't think about it," Ella says. She tries not to feel like she's being attacked, like her brothers are turning against her. "Did you think about it?" It comes out more defensively than she intends.

"Not really," Jacob says. He doesn't notice that her response is abnormal. "Next time we'll remember."

Sure, next time, Ella thinks. All of the sudden her mother is Mother of the Year to them, but she's not buying it. Not yet. She wants to believe that things are changing, but she's been burned in the past by doing that. She feels guilty about it, but she doesn't believe that their mother will continue to be interested in their lives. She has yet to personally witness this supposed change anyway.

Ella just nods and gets up to check her coffee. It's about done, so she goes and turns it off. She go back to things in her thoughts all throughout her day.

#

When she gets home, all Ella wants to do is check and see if Jonathan has written to her again. And whether he has or not, she wants to write to him. She has successfully gone through the day without feeling too much of anything. She hasn't let herself dwell on Mr. Kelley's condition or her mother's actions. She has instead focused on the third aspect of her life's current puzzle. And that is Jonathan Lewis. She figures that she has at least a few precious moments of solitude before her brothers come in. She will take advantage of them.

Her computer doesn't cooperate though. It moves more slowly than usual and by the time she has gotten to her email inbox, the house is full of little boys' happy voices. She imagines that they'll be okay, but is paranoid. She leaves the computer and goes to check on them.

"Have a good day?" she asks. They are setting up shop at the table for some homework time.

"Yes," Jacob says. "We had a substitute teacher and she didn't know what she was doing so we watched movies all day." He is smiling as if his life has never been more perfect.

"And what about you, Tyler-oo?" Ella says. She is getting silly on their happy vibes.

"We played kickball at P.E. That's my favorite."

"I'm glad you guys had fun today," Ella says. "I've got to work on something in my room. Will you be okay out here without me?"

"Yeah," Jacob says, "I'll help Ty if he needs it."

"Okay," she says. "Call me if you need anything." She is almost sad that they so clearly don't need her. But it makes it possible for her to do her thing, so she can't complain.

Ella is a bit disappointed. She has been hoping that there was more love and comfort from Jonathan coming her way. His last letter seemed rushed and incomplete and she expected an addendum of some sort. But her inbox is empty. She will write to him.

Dear J. E. Lewis,
I have to say that your letter set the whole tone for my day. And what a happy tone it has been. I'm not really the biggest Elton John fan, but everyone at the hospital, or hopsicle as I'm fond of saying, must think I am. Not only did I sing "Your Song" all day, but I also had a few other of his greatest hits running through my head. I'm just glad that the main people I deal with are infants who have no concept of tone or pitch and don't care if I'm singing the wrong words to songs I don't really know. I hope I don't scar them for life.
I used to go to Wal-Mart in the middle of the night. When I was in high school. My friends and I would sometimes be up all night for no good reason and just decide to take a drive around town. For some reason we always ended up at Wal-Mart. That was the best time to go anyway. More or less the only people who were there were ones stocking the shelves and other employees doing odd jobs. We always felt like we had the store to ourselves. The downside to that, because you know there has to be one, being the inevitable guilt purchases we made. We couldn't let them think we were using their store as a playground, even when we were. So, we'd find some things to buy to cover ourselves. Thinking back, I'm sure that this was obvious to everyone there, but we thought we were sly. I still have some of these guilt purchases. Like a bottle of nail polish that is the exact color of those crusty things you get from your eyes when you wake up in the morning and about a million candles in jars.
Wow, that turned into a really long Wal-Mart story. I feel especially cheesy because I just looked back at your letter where you described Wal-Mart trips as dull. Moving right along...
I wouldn't call your essay pathetic. In fact, as I was reading it and came to the abrupt "The End," I found myself wishing for more. You may not have been an English major, but that essay was major-ly cool. (You asked for it, I believe.) Here is your assignment: Write more essays.
Now for the assignment you gave me. In case you have forgotten it was to come up with more songs in the same vein as "Angie" and "Beth." Here goes.
We'll start with The Beatles, because you have to start there, it's a rule. They have, of course, "Michelle," "Eleanor Rigby," "Julia," and "Anna," the last being my personal preference, and not only because my name is Annabella. I think it's a better song. I guess if you were stretching a little you could also include "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds," and "Dear Prudence" in this list. Other songs that popped immediately to mind were "Layla" by Eric Clapton, Rod Stewart's "Maggie May" and "Mandy" by Barry Manilow. Although, the only one of those I really like is the first. After some thought and with the help of several yellow sticky notes, I also came up with a few that are a little more random. "Come On Eileen," for example. Also, "Oh, Donna," "Barbara Ann," and "Proud Mary." Finally, if you want to give a hip-hop feel to your next show, you could do "Ms. Jackson" by OutKast or, for a country vibe, Dolly Parton's "Jolene."
I was just reading back over what I've written and I realized that your initials spell a non-word that is phonetically identical to the word "gel." This is one of the coolest words formed by initials

A loud noise stops Ella mid-sentence. She saves what she has written and goes to investigate the noise. In her head, scenes of accidents flash by as if on a filmstrip projector. She thinks about how accidents occur most commonly in the home. She is worried over nothing, but doesn't get this until she enters the living room. Her mother is standing there and is being overwhelmed by words and affection from Jacob and Tyler. They are battling fiercely for her attention.

Ella rolls her eyes involuntarily. "Mom," she says. "You're home." Two days in a row, that must be some kind of record, she thinks.

"Yes," the woman says over the voices of her two sons. "I thought we'd spend some time together. All of us this time."

Ella can't believe what she is feeling. She has always thought that all she wanted was her mother's attention, and that if she got it, she'd be ecstatic, overjoyed. But now that it appears to be happening, all she can feel is resentment. All she can think about are the years of being ignored. She wishes her mother had not come. And yet, in her mind, she knows what she should be feeling. She should be happy. She should relish in this rare opportunity.

"Great," she says. She is shooting for enthusiasm, but it comes out much more weakly than she intends.

"Great," her mother mimics, but more cheerily. "I thought I'd throw together something to eat and then we could play board games or cards or something. What do you guys think?"

"Yeah!" Tyler and Jacob both yell. They wouldn't care if dinner consisted of brussel sprouts and liver or if afterwards they watched C-Span and talked about shopping. They wouldn't care about any number of horrors. It only matters that their mother is there.

"Let me just go change clothes," she says, pulling out of their grasps and walking in the direction of her bedroom.

"Isn't this great?" Jacob asks Ella.

She wonders why that is suddenly everyone's favorite word. "Sure is," she says, but it doesn't sound convincing. Jacob and Tyler could hardly care though. They follow their mother. Ella goes back to her room and shuts the door, a little too loudly. She is mad, but doesn't really know why. She thinks she should be happy, but all she wants at this moment is to be away from her life, to be far removed from it. She could just go be someone else for awhile and it wouldn't bother her.

Except for Jonathan.

She brings back up the letter she had been working on and starts typing.

I am going to leave that sentence as it is, unfinished. I was pulled away suddenly from writing to you and in the short time that has elaspsed since I started that thought, my mood has taken a nose dive. The worst part is that I don't know why. I, personally, like a bad mood every once in awhile. Because they always seem to teach you something about yourself. And coming out of one makes you appreciate the good moods all the more. But when you don't know what's wrong with you, when you can't figure out why you feel the way you do, it's frustrating. And there's no fun in that.
So, what inspired that ramble? Two words. My mother.
In the last two days, she has put forth more effort to spend time with us than she has, probably, in the last year. That may be an exaggeration, but if it is, it's a small one. I have spent the last few years of my life wishing she would show an interest in my brothers and me. Especially my brothers, for the sake of salvaging for them a normal childhood. Yesterday she not only came home at a normal hour, but she also took them out for food that they like and treated them to a trip to the arcade. For my mother, this is bizarre behavior, so I feel justified in being puzzled by it. It's also very unlike her, so I also feel justified in being skeptical and wary. But more than any of these things, I am mad. Just plain angry. I almost want to say the word hate.
Why, though, should I feel this way? My own feelings have me more confused and upset than her actions. What I need to do is go in there and put on a nice face and try to enjoy myself. I need to relax. I need to forgive and let go. I need to give her a chance. And maybe I'll try. When I calm down a little bit.
It's funny how we so often know what we need to do and yet it is so hard to do it.
But, as I was saying, J. E. L., which when spoken sounds like "gel," is one of the coolest words formed by initials that I've ever seen. My own initials don't spell anything. If my middle name started with a W, maybe I'd have cool initials. That would spell "aww," which isn't really a word, but is the closest thing to a word possible with my first and last name.
I assure you that your letter provided no small amount of comfort. The amount was quite large. I only wish I could express it to you in words. Your imagined hug was only just barely less healing than any real hug could have been.
Thank you,
Ella

She feels better after writing about comfort and hugs and is ready to try to be nice. She presses send and then goes back to where her family is discussing the evening's entertainment.

"Why not cards and a board game?" Jacob asks. He is, no doubt, compromising with Tyler. He is a peace-lover.

"Chutes and Ladders," Tyler says. "And Go Fish."

"I like Sorry! and Crazy Eights," Jacob says.

"What do you want, Ella?" Tyler asks. He wants her to side with him.

"I think we'll probably have time for them all," she says.

"That's what I tried to tell them," their mother says. She is stirring something on the stove. From Ella's view it looks like a combination of beans and rice.

"What are you making?" Ella asks. She has cooled off considerably and asks this in a soft voice.

Ella's mother smiles and holds up a spoonful. "Mixed vegetables and wild rice. Cajun style."

"What's that?" Tyler asks.

"I think it's hot," Jacob says.

"It's good," Ella says. Her mother smiles again and their eyes meet.

It is good and as everyone enjoys the meal together, Jacob and Tyler dominate the conversation. They recount the day's activities and continue their discussion of what to do later in the evening. Their mother listens attentively and when there is a break in the conversation, she says to Ella, "I hear you took the boys to the movies. How was that?"

Ella is about to answer when Jacob interrupts her. "I forgot to call Jonathan," he says. It is as if he has wronged a friend of his own. He doesn't mean to start anything, but he does.

"Jonathan?" Their mother is confused and curious.

"A friend of mine," Ella says too quickly.

"Oh, do I know him?"

Ella wonders if her mother has ever known any of her friends, except for Ambrey. "No," she says. "You don't."

"Are you very good friends?" She isn't trying to pry, but she seems to want to be involved. "I think I'd like to meet him," she says.

"He's cool," Tyler says. "He helped us make breakfast. At night." This thought still amuses him.

"So, he was here, then?" She begins to look more worried. "I don't know if I'm comfortable having strangers in my house," she says.

"He's not a stranger," Jacob says in Jonathan's defense, or maybe Ella's.

"I don't know him. I don't even know his last name." Their mother is beginning to sound frantic. She realizes now that any number of people could have come into her house withour her knowledge.

"His last name is Lewis," Ella says, quietly. "You'd like him, he's respectable."

"What does he do?" The older woman is calming down.

Ella sighs. She doesn't want to say that he sells out large venues and goes on late night talk shows, but she is afraid the conversation is heading in that direction. "He's a musician."

Her mother surprises her by not pressing too much harder. "Oh, that's nice. Does he play the piano?" She is imagining someone who plays in restaurants and at parties, providing background music for people like her and her colleagues.

Ella says, "Guitar." Her mother nods and smiles and Ella is thankful that this is all she wants to know. She struggles to remember what had sent them off on the subject. The movies. "The movie was good," she says.

"Yes," her mother says, a bit absently because she is still thinking about Jonathan, "that's what Jacob and Tyler said."

She seems to snap out of her drifiting thoughts. She glances around at everyone's plates and says, back in her too bright voice, "Is anyone ready for a game? I thought maybe Go Fish."

This is how the rest of the evening goes. Jacob and Tyler are overly excited, their mother is almost phony in her happiness, and Ella is hesitant to get involved. She hangs back and watches more than anything else. It is a relief to her when the night is over and she can go back to her own room where she will toss and turn and get little sleep as she tries to process the night's activities in her mind.

#

The next morning is like any other morning. Ella and Tyler and Jacob have breakfast together in the kitchen. The only thing that suggests anything different is going on is the small stack of travel brochures that have been left on the table. Ella looks through them as she sips at her coffee. They are for exotic places like Fiji and Barbados, places that Ella would love to visit, but that she can't imagine either of her brothers especially liking. She is looking at one for some small island resort in the Bahamas and is daydreaming about the sunshine and the tropical scenery. She is thinking about the tan she could get just laying on the beach and listening to the waves rolling in.

Jacob interrupts her reverie by asking, "What's that place, Ella?"

"Huh?" She sits up straight in her chair and looks down at the brochure. "Oh, it's um-- It's a place in The Bahamas, Paradise Island, it says. It's a resort or something." She hands the brochure to him.

"What's a resort?" Tyler asks. He has been quiet and is now rubbing his tired eyes.

"Like a hotel," Jacob says. "See." He holds out a picture of the place for his little brother to see.

"What can you do there?" Tyler asks.

Jacob is scanning through some of the information and spouts off a list of attractions. "We could go to the beach," she says, "but that's a duh. They have a pool with a slide and an aquarium and mini-golf and scu-- Ella, what's scuba diving? Is that like with the fins and the masks?"

"Yeah," Ella says. She is beginning to see that her brothers would have as much fun as she would, if not more. "I think that's what it is anyway. I've never done it."

Jacob goes on, "It says you could swim with dolphins."

Tyler perks up a small bit. "Is that true? Can you really do that?" He doesn't know whether to believe or not. Jacob shows him a picture of three dolphins in mid-air, in the middle of making perfect arcs. He does not look amazed, but rather, he is impressed by that. He says simply, "I'm going to do that."

Ella smiles. "You think so, huh?"

"Why? Can't we do it?" Jacob asks.

"I don't know," Ella says. "But you know what you can do? Like right now?"

"What?"

"Go get your shoes on. It's time to go."

#

In the early afternoon, Ella gets a call from Cheryl.

"Let me guess," Ella says before the woman can do anything more than identify herself. "She wants me to come see her."

"Yes," Cheryl says.

"And she already arranged for a baby-sitter."

"Yes, Je--"

"Jennifer, from before. You tell her I'll be there after I get off work." Ella hangs up before Cheryl can respond. She thinks that it isn't fair for her to be rude to Cheryl, but she figures Cheryl will know it's meant for her mother. And maybe, just maybe, she won't make these obnoxious calls anymore.

Ella has to wait for almost an hour in the waiting room at her mother's office and imagines that all of the secretaries or receptionists or whatever they are are giving her dirty looks. At the moment, she doesn't care too much. She is flipping through magazines and wondering what things Jennifer is doing wrong. She finally gets let back to see her mother.

"Why don't you just wait until you get home to talk to me?" Ella asks before she even sits down.

"I can't make it home tonight," her mother says without looking up from what she's doing.

"What exactly do you need?" Ella asks.

"Annabella, I'm concerned about you having a man in the house with your brothers there."

Ella sighs heavily.

Her mother continues. "What's to be concerned about? It's not like he brought drugs and alcohol to your sons. They like him. He's good with kids."

"I believe you're missing the point." She says this so evenly that Ella wants to scream at her, but stays in control of herself. She doesn't respond verbally. Her mother continues. "I am uncomfortable with this behavior. I understand that you are a grown woman and you will see people, but I'd rather not have it in my house."

"What exactly do you think went on, Mother?" Ella tries to mimic the even and calm voice her mother always seems to use. "It was completely innocent. Jonathan is just a friend of mine."

"Well, I know how things can escalate, and I don't think your brothers should be exposed to that."

This argument is so flawed that Ella wants to scream. She doesn't though. She is again silent.

Without so much as a pause, her mother launches into another topic. "I'm assuming that your brothers told you that I discussed a family vacation with them."

"Yes," Ella says.

"And I'm assuming you saw the brochures I left."

Ella nods.

"What do you think?"

"I don't guess I really care," Ella says. "Jacob and Tyler seemed to like the Paradise Island one."

"Oh, wonderful. That was my favorite too."

It figures, Ella thinks. "So, when exactly is this vacation going to happen?" Ella asks.

Her mother is hesitant to answer. "Oh," she says, "it'll depend on when I can get away. You know how things are here at work."

"Yes," Ella says. "I was wondering about that actually. Is everything okay? Here at work, I mean?" Her mother starts to answer, but Ella cuts her off. "Because it's not very often that you actually, you know, spend time with your family." There is so much bitterness in this statement that Ella can taste it in her mouth. She is angry that she lost control of her tongue and cannot stay and look at her mother any longer. That would be too much for her to handle. She gets up, not waiting for a response, and leaves the office. Her mother is too shocked to stop her.

By the time Ella gets to the lobby, she is almost running. The only thing on her mind right now is getting as far away from her mother as she can. She can't go home. That wouldn't be a good enough escape from her life. She plops down into the driver's seat of her car and knows that she will drive. Just drive.

It is dark when she gets home. Ella goes straight to her room after dismissing Jennifer, hoping to avoid any questions about where she's been. Jacob follows her. "Ella," he says, "what's going on? You didn't come home, Mom didn't come home. What's wrong?"

Ella looks at him. The boy worries so much over things he can't understand. "Nothing's going on, Jake," she says. "I just had to do some things." It is not the complete truth, but she reasons that she did do important things. Like calming down. Like clearing her head. Like getting away for awhile.

Jacob still looks shaken. Ella doesn't feel very good, but she wants to cheer him up. "Tell me," she starts, in a hushed, conspiratorial voice, "how is this Jennifer girl? Is she nice? Or do I have to beat her up?"

He smiles, but barely. "She's okay, I guess. She doesn't talk much." He thinks some more. "She wouldn't let me play outside. Mom called." As if those thoughts go together.

"Oh?" Ella asks. She is careful not to show distaste.

"She asked for you. Then she said that we're going on vacation next week."

"Really?" It seems like a story, but she knows Jacob wouldn't make this up. What he says next reinforces that.

"How can we, Ella? We have school next week." He looks genuinely puzzled over this. He is not one to play sick or beg to stay home.

"Well, if Mom says so, you can miss school. They won't mind."

"We're going to that Island. Mom said."

"That's good," Ella says.

"Are you excited, Ella?" Jacob is still worried about her. He wants to see her happy, but she isn't.

"I won't be going," Ella says. She thinks it's best to tell him now. "You and Ty can go. And have lots of fun with Mom." She makes herself smile, for him. She can tell he wants to ask her why, but she doesn't give him a chance. "Tomorrow I'll go and get you guys some stuff for the pool to take with you. You and Tyler make me a list, okay?"

"Okay," he says. He takes his assignment and goes to find Tyler.

Ella logs onto her computer and tries to relax. She needs to see if Jonathan has written back to her. He has, but it is very brief.

Ella,
No time because of show tonight, but I'll write you back for real later. Don't think I'm blowing you off.
JEL

Ella is disappointed that he hasn't written more. She had hoped to get lost in his words and she wanted to see his responses to several things. Still, she is glad to see that he cares enough to drop her a note to tell her he's busy and that he hasn't forgotten about her. She plans on waiting a while and checking later. She thinks about calling Ambrey, but decides against it. She thinks about knitting, but doesn't want to have to concentrate on anything. Her eyes are suddenly very heavy and she falls asleep before she can decide what to do.

The downside to falling asleep early is that she wakes up in the middle of the night. It is not yet four in the morning and her eyes are wide open. She looks around her room in the darkness, getting oriented. It's not morning, she tells herself. I should go back to sleep, she reasons. And then she remembers that she had been waiting for something. This time, it's there.

Dear Ella,
Your suggestions were so great that I played not one, but two of them at last night's show. I did a little "Oh, Donna" and then went into "Proud Mary." The crowd loved it. Kansas City thanks you. I thank you. Sometimes I get so bored with the same songs. You can probably imagine. So, I'm always changing things around a little here and there, but then those little changes can get boring too. It's nice to throw in something completely new and different.
As for early morning trips to Wal-Mart, I wasn't putting them down. On the contrary, my favorite time to go is in the middle of the night. There is nothing quite like having almost an entire store to yourself. The overnight staff is more easy-going too. I've found that they don't much care what you do. One night I went into the store with my brother and some of our friends and we made a pallet on the floor back by the bedding. We took magazines and food back there and hung out like we were in someone's house, not a Wal-Mart Supercenter. And they didn't say a word to us, not one. Of course, we bought all of the stuff we used, so I guess they figured there was no harm in it.
Glad you liked the essay, but I am truly not a writer. I'll focus my words on songs and you can write all the essays, okay? But since you did ask, I've got one for you.
Why Ella is a Cool Girl, an essay by J. Edward Lewis
I don't often make new friends on the road. That may be because my schedule is pretty packed or it may have something to do with being around the same people day in and day out. Every time I meet someone new, I have to leave, so I almost never see any of them again. But with Ella it was different. Not only did we meet each other twice in the same night, but I also saw her the next day. That alone makes this situation rare. Making it unprecedented is the warm rapport we have with one another. Ella is a cool girl because she laughs at my jokes. Just the fact that she gets my jokes to begin with is noteworthy, but to laugh... Yeah. Another reason I like Ella is her heart. She takes care of other people's children from the moment she gets up to the moment she goes to bed. I'm sure my mother would thank her. And lastly, there is the scarf she gave me. This is the coolest scarf I have ever had. In fact, I don't think I've ever called a scarf cool before. But this one is a non-girly color and is soft and is useful even when it isn't cold out. I am a person who cannot sleep unless it is completely dark in the room. Having something soft to put over my eyes has already proven to be helpful in this regard. And, hey, one day we might get a pinata or play pin the tail on the donkey.
The End.
If you didn't believe me before, you undoubtedly do now. I suck at writing essays and stuff. I'm sure that should have been broken into paragraphs somehow, but I couldn't do it, I wouldn't know where to start.
The next show we play will be in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I have not played there before, so I'm kind of excited about that. I'm thinking about busting out the hip-hop vibe you talked about. Because naturally when you think of Oklahoma, you think of hip-hop. I'm considering "Ms. Jackson," but I don't know exactly how to work it in, so I may do something else. Your thoughts?
Every time you write about your mother, and every time you speak about her, it breaks my heart. I feel so undeserving of the good relationship my mother and I share. I wish there was something I could say or do that would make things better for you in this area of your life. Just reading about how mad you were at her made me feel angry. And I've never even met your mother. But I know what it's like to feel something and not understand why you feel it. Believe me, I'm experiencing a form of this right now. But more on that later. Take care of yourself and try not to let anyone make you feel bad. That includes your mother and yourself. And I hope to see you again soon.
You're Welcome,
J

There is only the glow of the computer screen in Ella's room and no sounds come from anywhere in the house. If she were to go look, she knows she'd find Jacob and Tyler in their beds sleeping, their chests rising and falling with each deep breath, the soft noises they make in their sleep audible only from inside their respective rooms. Ella thinks about going to check on them, but doesn't. She is looking around her room in the computer's glow and it hits her how lonely she is. It is almost unbearable. To occupy her mind, she begins to write back to Jonathan immediately.

Jay Eee Ell,
It is early, early in the morning and the silence in this house in overwhelming. I cannot sleep.
Did you know? If you say gel in a country accent, drawn out and slow, it sounds like jail.
That was useless information and very random. Sorry.
I liked your essay very much. That may be because it was about me, but I won't tell if you won't. I would write you a song, but that would be disasterous. I am incapable of rhyming. In school, when we had a unit on poetry, I actually got into an argument with my teacher because I was so terrible at rhyming. I told her that a lot of great poets didn't rhyme their work and that it was unnecessary for me to do it. She didn't buy it. Fortunately, we didn't do too many assignments for which I had to rhyme things myself, so I didn't fail the course. Anyhow, that's why I could not do what you do. Therefore, you are cooler than I am. I should write an essay about it.
But I won't.
I think I have family in Tulsa. Someone on my dad's side, so I don't know a whole lot about it. I've never been there, but I can't imagine that it's a hotbed of hip-hop activity. You never know though, someone might surprise you. I think you should definitely try it. If nothing else, the people of Tulsa should get the humor in the choice. As for what to play, I have no clue. I don't follow popular music very closely. Here's what you do. Call your nieces and nephews and ask them what their favorite songs on the radio are. They can probably give you some pointers.
I can't help but feeling that I go on about my mother too much. The truth is that I envy your closeness with your mother. I mean, would you ever suspect that she had ulterior motives in wanting to spend time with you? Probably not. I just think that our relationship should be less complicated, but then I remember that most women have a complicated relationship with their mothers and I don't feel quite so bad. I think I'm over being angry. Now I'm just kind of sad about the whole thing.
She is planning this big vacation and the plans got pushed up to next week. She wants the whole family to go to this place in the Bahamas. Theoretically, I'd love to go, but I just can't do it. I think I'd die if I did. So, I'll be staying around here while they are running around on tropical beaches next week. The strangest thing is that I don't really even want to go. I mean, the idea is wonderful, it's great. Maybe I'd go if I could go alone. (How's that for selfish?) But I don't think I could emotionally handle spending whole days with my mother and my brothers. It's such a tight rope that we walk anyway. Imagine what would happen under the added pressure of being constantly together. I've made up my mind to stay home.
So, it's later, tell me. You really piqued my interest with that vague statement: "Believe me, I'm experiencing a form of this right now. But more on that later." Like I said, it's later, and I want to know what you were referring to. You know, your essay skills could maybe use a little work, but you have the whole suspenseful, cliff-hanger thing down.
Looking forward to your reply,
A. W.

Ella sends the message and then tries again to catch some more sleep. She never really gets to sleep though. By the time daylight comes, she is really exhausted.