Rewriting the Ending

by H P Tune

  She drew in quick, anxious breaths, knowing that any word that left her mouth would come out in a pant and that attempting to calm herself would be futile.

  Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. She ducked back into the car and sat in the driver’s seat, closing the door behind her. She needed to get a grip. Reaching into her handbag, she withdrew a small compact and examined her reflection. She tapped pressed powder to her chin and studied her eyes: they were unacceptably glazed with tears. Fishing out her phone, Mia checked for missed calls before clicking on the text message she had received from Juliet mid-route.

  Good luck today. Let me know how it goes. xoxo

  Mia quickly typed back.

  Thanks—just arrived. Feel like a lamb to the slaughter. How are you?

  Living the dream. Another meeting with the chaplain, about song choices and readings now.

  Mia screwed her face up.

  :-( No fun. Good luck to you too.

  A message came back through quickly.

  Stop procrastinating. Go. xo

  Mia gave a nervous giggle and shook her head.

  Okay! I’m going………

  Exiting the small rented Prius, Mia threw her bag over her shoulder and approached the house slowly. She walked to the wooden double door and pressed the doorbell. She waited.

  And waited.

  Glancing around her, Mia could hear movement inside, yet no one appeared. She rang the bell again, and it was almost a minute before the door swung open. Standing in front of her was one of their staff. The butler, maybe; he wasn’t familiar to Mia.

  Mia cleared her throat. “Good morning, I’m Mia…Mia Rev—” Mia said before being interrupted.

  “I know. I have been advised to ask you to leave the property.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mr and Mrs Revira have advised me to ask you to leave.”

  “Of course. Well, I would like to see them.”

  “That is not possible.”

  “They obviously know that I am here.” Exasperation crept into Mia’s voice, and she lost some of the forced control she had called up before leaving the car as the man squared his shoulders.

  “I think it’s best that you leave.”

  “What about my sister? Is she here? Daniela?”

  He glanced over his shoulder then, and Mia followed his line of sight. Daniela stood quietly, watching from further inside the wide entrance.

  She averted her eyes quickly as Mia’s surprised gaze fell on her. “Daniela! Dani!”

  Daniela glanced back once before shaking her head.

  “Come on, Daniela. You could at least speak with me. What happened to you?”

  “Daniela, do not.” A slow deep voice emanated from inside, and Mia recoiled slightly. Her father was an impressive man, tall, with broad shoulders and a booming voice. Her mother followed dutifully behind, always the trophy wife, just as Mia was meant to be. “Christopher, arrange for the gates to be opened,” her father said, voice seemingly void of emotion.

  Mia stilled as her parents stood in front of her and no one said a word. Daniela took a few steps closer.

  One by one, they each surveyed Mia, their eyes drifting from her face and over her body and back up again. Their expressions were united in clear dissatisfaction; jeans and a sweatshirt were not meeting their expectations.

  “Hi.” Mia’s eyebrows widened at the clear, rounded swell of Daniela’s stomach. She had to be at least six or seven months pregnant.

  “Mia.” She received a single nod from her father. It wasn’t a greeting or a question. They didn’t seem surprised to see her.

  “I thought it was time that we talked.” Mia cursed the hesitation and nervousness she could hear in her voice.

  “Have you changed?”

  “Excuse me?” Mia turned to her mother, feeling the glare before she saw it.

  Daniela coughed. “They know, Mia.”

  “Know what, Daniela?”

  “About you, everything—the women. They know. Stephen found out about the woman in the jazz club and made an announcement, and I confirmed it. They know.”

  “Are you kidding me? How? It’s none of his…It’s no one’s business.”

  “You put it out there…” Daniela said. She crossed her arms and smirked, as if proud of her point.

  “Have you changed?” Mia’s mother asked again, each word pronounced slowly and deliberately.

  Mia shook her head, forehead creasing and mouth slightly open. “No, I…no.”

  “Then you can stop there.”

  Without another word, the door closed heavily in front of her face. It wasn’t slammed but gently closed. Mia heard the solid latch click into place and the distinct sound of a secured lock.

  CHAPTER 13

  Juliet was done. She was tired of placating relatives, engaging in crap conversations about how this was the perfect way for her father to have died. How he would have hated to get old and demented, how he wouldn’t have coped if his body had slowly and progressively betrayed him.

  It was bullshit.

  And Juliet was becoming exhausted, her threshold for listening to false truths rapidly lowering. She had to walk away before she said something she regretted, especially to her histrionic aunt, who was rambling on yet again about what an incredible man her brother had been.

  “It’s such a loss…just such a loss for everyone. What will we do without him? He’s always been the same, ever since we were children. Always the strong one, the protector.”

  Juliet’s jaw hurt from clenching her teeth, and she was so tired. “It’s funny, isn’t it,” she said, “how we immortalise the dead, even when they don’t deserve it?”

  Her aunt stopped mid-speech, and her mouth fell open. A few barely noticeable coughs and sniggers sounded from around her, from people who knew her and knew her father accurately.

  “Juliet, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Accurate, Aunt Bev. Accurate.”

  “I don’t think so at all!”

  “Come on. He was a completely unforgiving man who had his own agenda, and if you didn’t follow his rules, then you were nothing to him. You actually know that very well, Aunt Bev.”

  “He was just a proud military man, that’s all. And that should be commended. He died in the line of duty and…”

  “He had a heart attack.”

  “He was deployed.”

  Juliet shook her head and rubbed at her neck. She found her aunt unbearable, which at least was something she had in common with her father. Intolerable drama queen had always been his description of her. It was strange, though, how the living reflected on the dead: the musings were always so positive and inaccurate, lives seen through rose-coloured glasses and their poor, pitiful excuses for their untimely deaths too. It was as if painting a pretty picture would make it all better.

  What was wrong with saying that someone had died and that it sucked, full stop? End of sentence. Nothing else was needed.

  Her father wouldn’t have been happy to die from an infarct; if he had had his choice, he would have died running through a barrage of gunfire, saving the lives of two innocent little girls under his arms. Or he would have taken some other similar grand gesture that would have earned him a posthumous award—the Medal of Honor, preferably.

  “I have to go,” she said quietly, though by that time, Aunt Bev had continued her conversation with a more willing ear. She slipped outside with a few mutterings of getting some air, skilfully avoiding the goodbyes. She left immediately, getting in the car and driving.

  As soon as she returned to her parent’s house, she slumped down onto the same uncomfortable small sofa. Juliet couldn’t wait to give the direction to empty the house. Donate whatever to whomever, she didn’t really care. She had the few small valuables, sentimental items, really, that she wanted, and her mother could keep the rest. Juliet would make sure her mom had her father’s medals and wedding band, but everything else was fairly disposable. The family photos had al
ready been distributed, and the house was cold and impersonal anyway. Her family had left her with enough metaphorical baggage; she didn’t need it in the literal sense as well.

  She didn’t understand why they all had to sit around and talk about him as if this were something he wanted, as if the stars had aligned, and the world suddenly made sense; because it didn’t.

  But she only had to get through a few more days. The funeral was planned for the next morning, and then it would only take a day or two to sort everything else and she could disappear again.

  She kept having a little battle with herself every time she went to phone or text Mia or to think about where and when they would meet up again. She told herself over and over that it was new and complicated. But other than that, her instincts were telling her yes. Right now, with Mia, everything was a yes.

  With thoughts of Mia, Juliet checked the time and clicked her tongue. It had been almost five hours since Mia had messaged from outside her parents’ house.

  Withdrawing her phone, Juliet typed and deleted a text multiple times, rephrasing and adding hugs and kisses before reconsidering. She felt a little silly; it was her contact that was important, not the wording.

  I haven’t heard from you…all okay?

  Forty-five minutes passed before Juliet received a response, though she was still sitting motionless and staring blankly at her feet. She jumped at the message alert tone.

  Just sorting out flights to you. Late afternoon arrival tomorrow okay?

  Juliet exhaled a sad sigh, obviously things hadn’t gone well.

  Of course. So, not great, then?

  Fucked.

  She knew she probably shouldn’t, but she let just a slight smile pull at the corner of her mouth. Juliet didn’t need to elaborate this time, the expletive was descriptive enough.

  I’m sorry. What can I do?

  Nothing, really. How are you? Funeral sorted?

  Yeah, tomorrow morning thankfully, can’t wait to get it over with. Do you need to talk?

  All good. My hatred for Florida has grown, though. Can’t wait to see you – you’re the one good thing in my life right now, hope that’s okay with you.

  Totally okay, right back at you too. What are your flight details? I’ll pick you up.

  Nah, you’ve got enough to do. Text me the address before tomorrow, and I’ll just come to your parents’ place. Do you need me to book somewhere? A hotel?

  Juliet looked around the vacant room. She had slept the previous night on a day bed in the spare room and hadn’t really thought too far ahead. She wasn’t prepared to sleep in the main room, despite the queen-sized bed. It all felt a bit strange and uncomfortable.

  We’ll sort it when you arrive, don’t stress. Are you okay? I know you’re probably not…

  Okay at being disowned by my family? Not at all. You okay?

  Not at all. Awesome, at least we’re equally not okay. :-)

  Juliet added the smiley face, though she knew it was a bit of a stretch. There was some ironic humour in their equally screwed-up lives. But even amid the loss, they still maintained some awareness of the absurdity.

  And Juliet needed some lightness. The next couple of days were going to be horrendous. And light, light was something she was definitely not going to be.

  * * *

  In the end, Mia hired a car and drove the two hours from the airport to the address Juliet had provided. If she had thought in advance, she probably would have organised a private transfer, but given her distress the previous day, she considered herself lucky that she had even booked the right flights.

  Predictably, Mia’s level of anguish had dissipated slightly after a sleeping pill-aided full night of sleep. She had woken up and decided to be more angry with her parents than upset, which she felt was a good move. She despised the emotional response that her family usually elicited from her, that unguarded and raw flood of unfiltered sorrow.

  Following the directions on the satellite navigation, Mia easily negotiated the suburban area until she pulled into the drive in front of a neutral, simple brick home. It was surrounded by similar buildings, all basically the same, with slight variations in roof colour and gardens out the front. Pulling her small suitcase from the trunk, Mia wheeled it to the front door, handbag over her shoulder. Knocking on the wooden door, the hinges creaked and it pushed open, clearly left slightly ajar and unlocked. “Juliet?” Mia called out, rechecking the address on her phone and matching it with the house number. “Juliet?”

  Stepping inside, Mia settled her suitcase just inside and pushed the door closed behind her. She stepped slowly down a short corridor, eyes darting along the white walls. “Juliet!” she called again, louder this time and heard a slight bang from the lounge room, adjacent to the hallway. It sounded a little like a glass landing on a table.

  “Hey, come in.” Juliet sat on a sofa, a half glass of wine on the coffee table. Her eyes followed Mia when she dropped her bag on the floor.

  “Hi,” Mia said, leaning in to give Juliet a soft kiss before sitting down next to her. “How are you doing?”

  Juliet was in a knee-length black dress and stockings with her shoes discarded, toes slightly visible through the semi-opaque hosiery. Even though she had a thick coat around her, Mia was still shivering; the house was freezing, and it seemed empty except for Juliet.

  “Good,” Juliet responded, staring at Mia wide-eyed and unblinking, voice empty and stable.

  “How did today go?”

  “Fine.”

  Shuffling, Mia turned her body further, pulling one leg up underneath her so she faced Juliet. She continued to stroke her back, slowly and rhythmically, while Juliet continued to just watch Mia, though she looked as if she were watching an ant crawl across the floor. “Have you been back from the funeral long?”

  Juliet’s forehead furrowed. “I’m not sure.”

  Running the back of her fingers up over Juliet’s cheek seemed to elicit a few blinks from her. “Juliet? Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t seem so good.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” Juliet said, and her face creased in confusion again. “Did your flight go okay? And the drive?”

  “Yeah, fine, no problems. I hired a car, so we’re stuck with two, but that’s not a drama, I can sort that,” Mia said, dropping a hand down to Juliet’s lap. She ran her fingers back and forth along the inside of Juliet’s arm before squeezing her hand.

  Juliet slowly looked down at Mia’s touch. “Hi,” she whispered.

  Mia sucked in a breath. “Hi.” She cocked her head to try and catch Juliet’s attention before pursing her lips into Juliet’s hair.

  “Have you eaten today?” Mia asked.

  “Yeah, an apple earlier. This morning.”

  “That’s not enough. You need something to eat, some water.”

  “What time is it? You were arriving at five.”

  “Yeah,” Mia nodded, twisting her wrist with Juliet’s hands still entwined in order to check the time. “It’s almost eight. Maybe something to eat and then some sleep, hey?” Her fingers lifted from Juliet’s back to run over her head and down through her hair.

  “I’m tired,” Juliet acknowledged, though the lack of expression on her face was scaring Mia.

  “Okay. Do you have any food here? I’ll check the fridge.”

  “I got some bread,” Juliet replied, but again, she looked confused. “I’m not sure where I put it. And I got some wine.”

  Mia nodded. “Yeah honey, I don’t think you should drink that.” She took the glass with her as she stepped into the kitchen, Juliet still in her line of sight. She found the bread untouched on the bench, still in a plastic carry bag. Opening the fridge, Mia screwed her nose up—just a few condiments and a UHT milk on the shelves. She quickly withdrew a jar of marmalade and made some toast, filling two tall glasses of water from the tap.

  “Just have a few bites for me.” She placed the
plate onto Juliet’s lap. Juliet reached for a slice and bit into it, screwing her nose up.

  “I know. It’s the only thing in the fridge to have on it.” Mia said.

  “Thanks.”

  Finishing hers quickly, Mia took a few sips of water and patiently waited for Juliet to finish. Juliet managed most of it before giving Mia a pitiful look. “That’ll do,” Mia said smiling. “And now some water.”

  Juliet drank it quickly and looked to Mia, appearing to await her next direction.

  “Do you want to go and get changed?”

  Glancing down at her dress, Juliet nodded. “Yeah, I meant to…”

  Content that Juliet was capable, Mia went into the kitchen and quickly washed the two plates and the knife she’d used, refilled the glasses with water, and secured the front door before flicking off lights. This quiet and void version of Juliet wasn’t something she had seen before—the way she seemed to be floating somewhere just below consciousness. She looked smaller and more timid, lost and confused.

  Mia wheeled her suitcase into the spare room, noticing Juliet’s backpack just inside the door. She left her bag next to Juliet’s and placed the water she precariously balanced, on an old dressing table. Juliet was sitting cross-legged back on a day bed in the room, a thick wooden white frame that came to just under the window.

  “I’m excited to see the ducks,” Mia said, crouching down in front of Juliet, hands on her pyjama-clad knees.

  Juliet nodded and politely smiled. “You need your cupcakes.”

  “I do,” Mia agreed. “Can I get you anything? Anything you need.” Juliet shook her head. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight, or do you want…I mean, I can sleep out on the sofa.”

  “Can you stay in here?” Juliet asked, but then cast her eyes over the single bed. “Oh, I guess it’s small.”

  “Ah, it’s fine. Good, just let me wash up, and I’ll be right back,” Mia said, rubbing her knees. “You get into bed and leave me a little space, okay?”

  By the time Mia returned, Juliet was curled up on her side, facing the door. She was lying close to the edge, head propped up on a pillow and both fists curled up under her chin. Mia smiled and pushed the door. It tapped against the frame but didn’t close. It wasn’t important; there was no one else in the house but them.