Chapter 8 - The Limit of Watchfulness
Rita returned to her doctor for a final assessment. Her ribs had healed, though she still felt occasional discomfort after long shifts. The clinician advised her to monitor symptoms and consider whether the physical demands of daily traffic duty remained appropriate. Rita didn't want to admit that she sometimes became dizzy when cars approached too quickly. She told the truth anyway.
They discussed options: returning gradually, continuing training work, or moving into a supervisory role. No one ordered her to stop being a crossing guard because of age or grief. The decision would depend on her health, the job's demands, and what she wanted.
For the first time Rita asked herself what she actually wanted. The answer surprised her. She loved greeting children, noticing new backpacks, and helping the smallest ones cross the street. She did not love waking every morning certain that if she stayed home someone would die. She wanted to keep the first part and loosen the second.
She accepted a part-time role training guards and monitoring school-zone safety reports. She would still work occasional crossings when medically cleared, but she no longer planned to stand at one corner every day. The change made her feel disloyal to Tommy until Helen reminded her that her son had loved her outside the crosswalk too.
"He liked when you sang in the kitchen," Helen said. "He liked when you took him to the library. He'd want more for you than standing on a curb afraid."
Rita knew Helen couldn't speak for Tommy. But she could remember the boy who once demanded that his mother race him down the sidewalk and always let her win because he thought she needed encouragement.
The new school-zone data showed a reduction in speeding during arrival hours after enforcement and signage changes, though the observation period was short. Rita resisted announcing victory. Sustained improvements would require continued monitoring and willingness to adjust the plan. She worked with staff to make reports readable for families, not just officials.
One afternoon Denise phoned about a driver who repeatedly ignored the stop paddle. Rita helped her document the incidents, contact the supervisor, and request targeted enforcement. She did not drive to the crossing to confront the driver herself. The old impulse to stand between danger and everyone else was strong, but she was learning how to distribute responsibility.
Marco, meanwhile, spoke with a local road-safety group about impaired driving. He asked Rita's advocate whether mentioning Tommy's death would hurt the family. Rita said he could acknowledge what he did without using Tommy's picture or personal details as a prop. Marco adjusted his remarks accordingly. Rita did not attend the event, but she read a transcript later. He spoke about his own choice to drive after drinking, the death he caused, and the legal and moral consequences. He did not describe himself as redeemed.
That mattered to Rita more than any bouquet. It meant he had finally stopped treating the tragedy as a chapter that ended when he finished his sentence. The consequences were still present for her every day, even when she was making dinner or training a new guard.
Rita began volunteering at a grief support program for parents. She was nervous the first evening, afraid she would give advice that sounded like a rule. The group facilitator encouraged her to speak from her experience rather than tell others how to heal. Rita said there were mornings she didn't want to get out of bed and other mornings she laughed before remembering why she thought she shouldn't.
Another mother nodded. "I do that too. Then I feel guilty for laughing."
Rita looked at her and said, "I don't think our children wanted us to stop laughing. I just don't know how to believe that every day."
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The room was quiet for a moment, then several people nodded. Rita went home feeling she had done something useful without saving anyone from an immediate danger.
Before bed she took Tommy's model airplane from the mantel and examined the wing they'd repaired with tape. She had been keeping it untouched for years, afraid handling it might erase a part of him. She turned the propeller gently. It still moved.
