by Ellie Mack
Once downstairs away from the flow of people, I could breathe and think more clearly. I appreciated everyone who came, expressing their concern for my sister and me as well as expressing how much they cared for Mom. There were only a handful of people who didn’t like her, a former coworker, Dad, and his bevvy of women including his current wife, and Mr. Townsend that lived next door. In all fairness, Mr. Townsend seemed to hate everyone equally, so he didn’t count.
Luke poured us each a glass of tea and brought me a small plate with strawberries, chunks of melon, a few cheese cubes, and two mini poppy seed muffins. It looked like heaven as I realized I hadn’t eaten since Devon had brought us carryout Chinese food.
“Thanks, Luke. This looks good.” I took a strawberry savoring its sweetness. “Can you go up and rescue Tara? She looks bewildered up there and I know that she won’t say anything.” Luke nodded as he moved me to the sofa in the small area provided by the staff at the funeral home. It was a fortress of solitude for a few minutes that I desperately needed.
Luke returned, leading Tara as he had done with me, helping her to the armchair beside me. He fixed her a plate and tea, but Tara still seemed shell-shocked as she lifted bites to her mouth, staring into the room, not engaging with either of us. I was getting concerned that she was about to snap when she cleared her throat then turned to me, her face ashen. “Dad is upstairs.”
My jaw dropped. I didn’t expect him to show up, much less today. I figured if he did, he would sneak in the back with just a few minutes to spare before the funeral and then slip away quietly.
“He came in just as Luke got my attention to come down here for a break. I haven’t talked with him, he was in the foyer signing the book.” She stuffed the last bite of mini muffin into her mouth and chewed a couple of times before swallowing. “I don’t even know if he recognized me, Roxy.”
“That’s silly, Tara, of course he would recognize you. He just saw us last summer.”
I could feel my anxiety rising, just knowing that he was here. I wanted him to come. I wanted him to feel pain as we did. I wanted him to mourn Mom’s death. I wanted him to be the father Tara and I deserved. I wanted to scream and yell at him, demand answers from him. I wanted . . . Daddy to make it all better. However, that would never happen.
Letting out a long sigh, as I carefully folded my napkin into smaller and smaller triangles, I knew I had to face him. I knew what I wanted and what I would get were as far as the north and south poles. I had to let it go and realize how things really were. I took a deep breath then slowly exhaled before standing. I was on automatic pilot, tossing the plate, walking towards the stairs, one heavy foot lifted per step, a pleading glance shot to Luke who was getting a refill of tea.
People milled around the room, some I recognized, others I didn’t. Aunt Carol was in the back with an elderly couple. I would have preferred to go in that direction, but I saw him standing at the casket, staring down into it. There were no expressions of anger, or resentment, he was blank. Suddenly, I found myself standing alongside him.
“Dad.” I stood by the side of the casket looking out into the room, with him and the casket to my left.
He reached towards me, pulling me into him, causing me to take a few quick steps to keep from losing my balance. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
I didn’t know anything to say, so I didn’t.
“I know it’s been hard on you and your sister and I’m sorry.” He clenched his jaw, his lips tightened into a tight line. “Really, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like you gave her cancer.”
No, he had not given her cancer, but he had made her life hell. On a rational level, I knew that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t explain the emotional response that made me want to pound my fists into his chest, blame him for every single day that we suffered, that Mom suffered. I have heard that hurting people hurt people, I wanted to hurt him and it didn’t make any sense. It was irrational and base emotions. I clenched my own jaw, forcing back any response.
At the same time, I wanted the Dad I never had. The Dad I had always hoped for, the Daddy we had when we were small.
“You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Aunt Carol spoke loud enough everyone in the room heard her. All eyes were instantly riveted on the front of the room where we stood. “I think you should leave.”
“He’s our father, Aunt Carol, I asked him to come.” I was ready to square off with her.
It wasn’t a secret how things had been between Mom and Dad. Most of Mom’s family were quite vocal in their hatred of Dad, and to be honest, it was well deserved. However, this wasn’t the time or the place. I wanted him to be here. I wanted him to come face to face with death. I wanted him to realize that he was all we have left and maybe if he knew that he’d step up to his responsibilities. If it was going to be lost on him, I didn’t want it to be because he didn’t know or was left out.
All of the emotions from the last several days, the rush of emotions now combined with her sudden drama had my anger at the top
“He has no right to be here.” She spat it in his direction as if the words themselves were vile and poisonous.
“Uh, yeah he does. I invited him. Last I checked you weren’t paying for the funeral, so stow it.” My words were formed carefully, enunciating each one. She had no idea how close to losing it I was.
“How can you just excuse everything he’s done like that? So, he’s your father. Big fucking deal. Lots of assholes make babies every day.”
“Aunt Carol, let it go. You can pick up your fight after the funeral. For now. Let. It. Go.”
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She stomped off towards the back of the room just as Luke and Tara came in from the foyer.
“Look, Roxanne, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’ll go.” He clasped his hand in mine, looking at our joined hands. “I remember when they were so tiny, when you wrapped your tiny little hand around my finger. Now, you’re grown.” He stared at our hands for a few minutes, rubbing his thumb pad over the small triangle of flesh between my thumb and index finger. “Is it OK if I come tomorrow for the funeral?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
At that Moment, he noticed Tara standing beside us with Luke. He turned, pulling her into an embrace as Tara’s brows furrowed shooting me a questioning look.
I felt a brush against my arm. Luke stood behind me, reaching for my hand. He turned me towards him asking quietly “Everything ok? We heard someone yelling and thought maybe we better come up.”
“Yeah. Aunt Carol felt the need to come up and make a scene with my father.”
Dad released Tara but clasped her hand just as he had done mine.
“Dad, this is Luke my fiancée.”
He extended his hand to Luke. “Nice to meet you. I hope you take good care of my girl. I. . .” he stopped, patted Luke on his upper arm, and clenched his jaw before turning away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thank you for letting me know.” Without another word, he walked out.
“What was that about?” Tara asked, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her hand on her upper arm.
“I’m not sure. He seemed almost nice. I was ready to lay into him then he was, well he looked sad. Then Aunt Carol came up and I got mad. I don’t care if they don’t like him, they can get over it. He’s our Dad.”
Tara looked towards the door. “Do you think he’ll actually come to the funeral tomorrow?”
“I think he will.”
“Didn’t have much to say for first meeting his future son in law.” Luke stated matter of factly.
“Actually, it went rather well. He didn’t have anything hurtful to say, so that’s good. He looks clean and sober, so that’s good also. Honestly, I don’t know if he has stayed clean or not. When we were there over the summer, we didn’t see him enough to know whether he was using, but it seemed that he was clean. He’s kept the same job for the past six years so that’s a big step for him.”<
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“Roxanne and Tara, we are so sorry to hear about your mother.”
I turned to see Margret and Jill, Mom’s best friends. I tried to offer them a smile, but the tears began. The memories of Mom smiling came rushing at me, seeing her face lit up when she would go out with these wonderful ladies.
“There, there, I know it’s rough. Your Momma has been through a lot these past few years. She’s at peace now, not in any pain.”
“I know.” I dabbed my eyes with the tissue that Luke had offered.
Jill pulled Tara into a big hug, I couldn’t hear their exchange, but she was talking sweetly into Tara’s ear as she had her arms wrapped around the woman’s neck.
Margret and Jill had been like second moms to us at times. When Mom was going through chemotherapy, they would take turns bringing us meals, teaching us how to cook meals that Mom could stomach. They took us to the grocery store and taught us how to shop for bargains, how to plan meals, how to make sense of the insurance. Margret would put us to work cleaning the house, top to bottom, making a game out of it, so that when we finished we could get pizza, sit, and watch a movie together. It was a regular routine, one that I had missed while I was at school.
“Now, don’t you go getting all weepy on me, girl. Your Momma is free. She was a good Momma. She was a fine woman. She lived a good life. We need to celebrate those good things. The fact that we miss her means she did good.”
Margret pulled me close. “She seeing the glory now, while we can only dream about it.” She gently laid my head on her shoulder as she wrapped those wonderful arms around me. “One day we’ll see her again, but we got more living to do. See, your Momma done finished her race while we still got a long way to go in ours. She raised you right. She taught you good. Now, it’s your turn to shine and make her proud.”
The tears welled, overflowing in a steady stream down my cheeks.
“Don’t you go hogging all of the attention from this one. I ain’t seen this girl for ages.” Jill slid her arms under Margret’s, prying hers off me and shooing her towards Tara. “You go love on Tara and let me have Roxy.”
She pulled me into a tight embrace, my head resting on her shoulder, pressing her cheek against mine. I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, one of those awkward nervous laughs that momentarily usually holds back the floodgates. In this instance it was like the permission I needed to let it go and let the tears fall.
“Your Momma never stopped bragging on you. She was telling me about you acing your tests just the day before she passed. She told me you won another of your fights and even though she didn’t know why you would choose such a violent thing, she was proud of you for pursuing your own dreams. The one thing she said that she regretted about this whole cancer mess was that it might deter you from going after what you want. She loved you and your sister more than life itself and was proud of you both.
I lost track of how long I stood in Jill’s embrace. There was so much comfort in it. Contact with the familiar, someone who knows what we have been through, what Mom went through, what she and Margret also went through. There was a comradery, just as if we had survived a war or a tornado, a bond that would never die. I got a small taste of the close bond that my grandfather had with buddies that he served with in Nam. I know this can never compare with that, however, I got the connection, the bond that would forever unite souls under duress.
The rest of the evening was tolerable after Margret and Jill left. Faces passed by. Some shook our hands, some spoke. Tears were shed. It is kind of a morbid thing that people will sign in attendance, go straight up front and look into a casket at the corpse inside, before they seek out the living. I watched the parade pass before me in a state of numbness.
When we looked at the number of people that signed, I couldn’t recall but a few, namely Dad, Margret and Jill. There were, of course, the regular family members, Aunt Carol, Uncle Todd, Grandma and Grandpa.
It was late, well after most people left, when Devon showed up. He came in his uniform, straight from the last crime scene. I only know it was dinner time because the funeral director told us it was time to lock up. Luke commented about having missed dinner and mentioned some of the places that people talked about and the types of food. Luke is an athlete, and he rarely missed a meal. He often stated that he had to take care of his body like a finely tuned machine, and to his credit, he rarely ate junk food.
I left it to them to decide. Food was the last thing on my mind.
CHAPTER 9
We ended up at a pizza place with two large pizzas. I worked on the same slice for a very long time while Luke and Devon talked. Tara interjected occasionally, but I was quiet. Devon talked briefly about his case, what little he could discuss, which was only slightly more than the local media had covered. Luke talked about the new job, but mostly asked Devon questions about the victims. He seemed unusually interested.
“What’s the deal, Luke? Morbid curiosity, or is there someone specific that you think might be one of the vics?” I don’t know why I blurted it out. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was aggravation or maybe a combination of both, or something else entirely. I didn’t know. At that point, the only thing I knew was the inner pain I felt and I couldn’t very well dump that on everyone. I only hoped that Tara was holding up better than I was. It’s ironic that Mom thought I was the strong one. I certainly didn’t see it now.
“Damn, Rox! Dial it back, OK? He’s just curious.” Devon was quick to cut me off. “It’s a big deal. These are young guys, but they look like they took an instant aging pill.”
“Hey, she’s right man. Sorry, for the questions.” Luke interjected then turned to me. “I’m sorry, Rox. I should be more sensitive. This must be hard for you to hear right now. I won’t ask any more questions. We’ll talk about something else like the big game with Pittsburgh.”
Just like that, the guys switched gears to sports, leaving Tara and me to groan at their enthusiasm over baseball. They could have talked all through the night if they wanted.
Neither Tara nor I wanted to stay at Mom’s house. “Tara, I was thinking.”
“About?” She didn’t look up, but directed her attention to the napkin in front of her, tearing it into tiny little pieces.
“After the funeral, I think you should come stay with me. Otherwise, you’ll be alone at Mom’s.”
“I’ll do it.” She cut me off. “I was going to ask, but I didn’t want to seem like a coward. I can’t stay there. It’s just so. . .”
“I know. I couldn’t do it and it’s not being a coward. It’s painful and creepy.”
“Yeah.” She started on another napkin. “It’s odd, you know, I can wear her dress, her shirts, but I don’t want to stay in the house.”
“I get it. I can imagine it’s harder on you because you’ve been with her all along. My apartment is plenty big and it’s closer for you to go to classes.” I motioned to the server to bring us refills. “It will be nice to spend time together.”
“Yeah, it will.”
The dinner crowd had left quite a while before we realized we were the last ones in the place and the servers were looking anxious for us to leave. Placing my hand on Luke’s hand, I interrupted their sports talk. “I guess we should probably head home.”
CHAPTER 10
“Roxy, it’s time to go, Honey.”
Dad stepped into the living room placing his hand on my shoulder lightly. At least he had the sense not to bring Tammy with him. He seemed more shook up over Mom’s death than I figured he would be. He called early in the morning, apologizing for waking me then asked if it were possible for him to drive us to the funeral. Luke and Devon would follow us in a separate car to the funeral home.
“OK, Dad.” I moved the phone down to my lap to answer him, before he moved down the hall to hurry Tara along. I sighed. This was almost surreal, still like a bad dream.
I didn’t understand how things could go from such a good place in my life to devastation in such a short time. The
tears came unbidden now. I couldn’t stop them. I swiped at my face, angry that my mascara was already running.
My breath hitched, feeling almost suffocated as I clenched my eyes shut. “GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!” I screamed it inside my head.
I stared out the passenger window as we traveled in silence. Tara fidgeted with a dozen things from her purse, changed earrings three times, and checked her makeup four more. Dad drove in stone-faced silence.
Tara turned in her seat and asked “Rox, do these earrings match the dress?”
I nodded. I didn’t dare speak. The anger roiled inside me threatening to spill over. Angry at Dad, at Tara, at Devon, at Luke, at Mom, at God! How could He let this happen? It wasn’t fair!
Dad pulled into the spot next to the hearse. I stared at it remembering Luke’s casket story. Wanting desperately to express to him my sudden understanding at why he did it. It no longer seemed creepy. It seemed sensible, logical, rational. Staring at the death wagon, I wondered what it felt like staring out of a casket. I wondered if I would get breast cancer one day. Would this be my fate? Tara’s?
Dad opened the door and practically pulled me from the car, as I continued to stare at the hearse. As if in slow motion, we walked into the funeral parlor moving to the front row. It was a small gathering: friends, family, coworkers. Aunt Marge turned me into her embrace, whispering in my ear as she hugged me tightly.
“Oh Roxy, Honey. I am so sorry about your Mom. You girls can come stay with me if you’d like.”
It wasn’t until we were riding in the car on the way to the cemetery when the impact of her statement hit me. Mom’s house would be sold. We were legal adults. We were expected to take on more things that are adult. My mind raced with things Dad said, things I was going to have to do, and things I would have to choose. In addition, he said something about decisions he was going to make.
