The Death of Lila Jane

by Teresa Mummert

  I could see exactly what he was doing, but it wouldn’t help anything. All I heard was my father’s angry voice in the echoes of his accent and I wasn’t going to forget about Taylor. Not ever. I’d made her a promise of forever and I wasn’t going to break it.

  Slipping on my shoes, I wandered out of the bedroom into the main living area. Daven stood over the stove as hazy smoke rose around him, the smell of bacon thick in the air. My hand went to my stomach as it panged with need.

  “You shaved,” I pointed out the obvious as I twisted my back, stretching my tight muscles. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few weeks before today, giving him a disheveled, almost homeless quality and the odor of booze mingled with sweat wafting off him didn’t help. If it weren’t for his muscular build, I might have thought he was just squatting in this house like a now stray dog waiting for his owners who’d abandoned him to return.

  “I had to do something with my time while waiting for you to get up. You city boys sleep all day, ya’. Must not get much work done,” he quipped but there was a lightness to his words. Maybe he needed some company as much as my mom thought I needed to be around another man.

  “I’m still a kid. I don’t have to work.” But the truth was, I busted my ass after I lost Tay, saving away every cent I could. It provided an excellent distraction from actually having to live my life.

  “I’ve been working since I was ten, bon rien[28]. You’re only a kid because you chose not to be a man. Grab a plate,” Daven called over his shoulder without bothering to turn around. I made my way over to him, pulling open three different cupboards before finding the one filled with mismatched, colorful Fiestaware dishes. I picked a plum plate and sat it down beside the stove.

  “These look familiar,” I blurted out as I pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a jug of orange juice.

  “Yeah, they belonged to your mamere[29]. She passed last winter.”

  I silently scolded myself. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

  “No, no. Talking about her is good. She talked about you a lot.” He cleared his throat while using the spatula to remove the bacon from the sizzling pan and dropping it on a plate covered with folded paper towels. Hot grease splattered across his bare chest and he jumped back. “Va la merde de fils putian[30]!”

  I laughed, recognizing the curse words right away. His eyes cut to mine as he suppressed a knowing smirk at my understanding of the language. As hard as I tried to run from my past, it was still there, deep inside of me, struggling to break free. The anger I harbored came directly from my father. It was a sick twist of fate that the very cause of my pain would force me further into his shadow.

  “It’s good to remember people we’ve lost, ya’. Share their memories that we carry with us so they don’t weigh so heavily on the soul. Even ‘da bad ones.”

  “Bad memories or the bad people?” A faint image of my father crossed my thoughts but I forced it back into the recesses of my mind as quickly as it appeared. My body stiffened as I thought of Taylor, her hazel eyes still seared into the very fiber of my being. “No use dwelling on the past,” I snapped knowing not a day passed that I didn’t think of her. Grabbing a piece of the bacon and shoving it in my mouth, I walked to the front door and slipped out into the relentless heat. The grease burned my tongue as much as my harsh words, but I was too hungry to care. I forced it down as I pulled open the driver door of my car, stepping back as a wave of sweltering heat assaulted me.

  “This place is Hell,” I groaned as I bent down and reached across the expansive front seat, grabbing my old notebook that I would write in when everything became too overwhelming. I glanced over my shoulder and through the back window, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the second story window across the street. Backing up, I stood as I squinted my eyes trying to make out who I was looking at when the curtain swung closed. This game of hide and seek had been going on since I’d arrived.

  I took in the faux brick exterior of Uncle Daven’s home. The mildew that slicked the trim showed how little he put into upkeep and worrying what the neighbors might think of him. It made me laugh at the sharp contrast to my mother’s concern about her self-image. That was why I was here, after all. What will the neighbors think? Guilt panged in my gut because I knew exactly why she was the way she was. The man I was the spitting image of, the one who plagued her nightmares, was the reason she’d become so neurotic and paranoid and she alleviated that panic by becoming obsessive compulsive, struggling to hang on to control anywhere she could grasp.

  She couldn’t look at me without seeing his face, even to this day, her eyes would tear up and her chin would quiver but not because she missed him. It was fear that one day would return in the form of genetic inheritance.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as the curtain on the second story window behind me swayed, shadows shifting behind the gauzy haze. That unsettling feeling of being watched caused my spine to stiffen. People didn’t mind their damn business anymore, only looking the other way when someone was crying out for help. Real life was just one giant reality TV show stage. Strangers were merely an audience and not participants.

  I shook my head and headed back inside of the house, bypassing my uncle and heading straight to my temporary bedroom.

  The book in my hand felt heavy as if it had a force of its own, begging me to flip it open and devour its contents. The memories, the tender slices of my past clawed their way to the surface of my heart as I flipped open the cover and sank down on the edge of the bed, skimming over my sloppy handwriting.

  Etched into the paper in ink were the confessions of my broken heart when it felt like the world collapsed around me, suffocating me. My eyes immediately clouded over with sadness, blurring the words and I was grateful for the reprieve from the painful memories.

  “Taylor,” her name fell from my lips as a sob wracked my chest. I gripped my hand over my mouth to try to contain the flood of emotions that was quick to follow, but to no avail. Everything came rushing back as the tears escaped. I could smell the vanilla in her hair and feel the gentle rising of goosebumps on her silky flesh as my calloused fingers explored the expanse of her back. Squeezing my eyes shut painfully tight, I begged for the memories to ease, hoping one day I would be able to think of her without feeling like it might kill me.

  Flashes of dimples, marred by sympathetic tears assaulted me. I could hear her voice, but she sounded so distant now like my mind could no longer remember the ring of her laughter. I wanted to scream, to beg for those memories to be sharp as the day they’d happened, sharp as the knife piercing my chest.

  I promised her forever and she was fading too fast.

  Three loud raps on the door startled me, pulling me back into the present, even further from Taylor. If it were possible, I’d crawl into a dark memory of her and never come back out. But I knew that there was nothing else beyond this world. How could there be? What God would steal away someone who was so loved, in the prime of her life? So I was stuck here, without her, until I wasn’t and we both were no more.

  “I’m busy,” I choked out, wiping the back of my hand over my dampened cheeks, embarrassed that I’d let myself be overcome with my grief.

  “I just want to talk,” Daven spoke quietly as if he could see the cloud of turmoil that engulfed me. The door opened before I could protest further. His eyes had met mine before he looked to the ground between us, offering me a small window of privacy. “I know you don’t want to talk about her. You don’t have to.” He glanced up at me, nodding once to reassure me he would keep his word and not force me to relive the past. “But I think you and I have more in common than you realize. There was a reason ya’ mamma was okay with sending you here. She thought it might be good for you to see…” He cleared his throat and I could tell it was growing thick with pain. “To see that life goes on and the suffering gets easier. I tried to tell her I wasn’t a role model.” He laughed nervously as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and I could se
e his internal struggle as he grappled with the thought of opening up to me.

  Daven crossed the room, running his fingertip over the top of one of the crib railings before wiping the dust that collected on his fingertip onto his well-worn jeans. Daven was a country boy, not known for their emotional side but looking at him now, I could see he knew everything I’d been feeling.

  “His name was Daven Allen Harken the second,” a ghost of a smile spread on his face before he shook his head and tears sparkled in his eyes. “My p'tit boug[31].”

  “What happened?” My stomach tightened as I awaited his confession.

  “His mamma, Julia, she… she was smart as a whip. Went to Tulane University majoring in child psychology when she was twenty-six. Met her at the Anba Dlo Festival[32]. She won my heart dressed as maw maw June, ya’ great grandmamma. She’d tell you she was the Bride of Frankenstein, but it was hard to tell the difference.” He laughed, scratching his forehead with the nail of his thumb as he let himself get lost in his memory. “She was somethin’ else.”

  Swallowing, he looked down at his palms as if they’d held the answer to his pain as if the wounds of stigmata would appear from all of the sacrifices he’d made. “Never did make it to graduation. When she couldn’t hide her gros ventre[33] any longer, we moved up here to be closer to my family so I could take care of her and ‘da baby. I had no idea what the hell I was doing but she… she seemed so confident. She trusted me with… everything. We got married in Shreveport when she was seven months along. She glowed.” Lines marred his forehead as he rubbed his hand over his chest as if he was physically alleviating the ache in his heart.

  I let my eyes close, not wanting to witness this incredibly personal moment but I felt it deep inside of myself. “I’m sorry.” I opened my eyes to see that he was staring at me now, not ashamed of his grief and allowing it to flow freely down over his cheeks.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ll never be sorry for having the little bit of time we had.” I could hear the regret in his voice and knew that wasn’t entirely accurate. While he wouldn’t have given away those moments together, he wished he could have had more. I knew because I was just as selfish. I had spent countless nights praying Taylor would have more time, even though I knew she would have suffered, just because I wasn’t ready to let go.

  “She stopped by the bank down in Beauregard Parish so she could get groceries for dinner. I had to work late and she had her heart set on crab cakes with remoulade sauce.” His head shook from side to side and I could see it, the same look I saw whenever I looked in the mirror. He blamed himself. Her pain still coursed through his veins, decaying and eating away at his soul. “Some guy decided to rob the bank that day. He tried to take Julia’s purse and she gave it to him but he wanted her wedding band and she refused. It was a mere twenty dollar band. It wouldn’t have meant nothing to nobody else but us. But he wanted it anyway. Man, ‘dat girl was stubborn as a mule. It’s one of the things I love… loved about her.” His eyes met mine as tears fell down his cheeks to the front of his shirt, but he smiled at the memory of her.

  “I lost everything that day. They told me I was lucky. Can you imagine? My wife and my son were dead and they said I was lucky I wasn’t with them. I’d survived. I couldn’t think of anything crueler. She must have been so scared.” His sank down on his haunches and cried unabashedly, his shoulders shaking as he struggled for more breath until his eyes ran dry. He made no effort to hide his sadness. “I may have survived, but this sure as hell ain’t livin’.”

  FOUR

  LILA JANE

  August 5, 2015

  My eyes drifted from my father’s empty chair to my brother who was pushing a chunk of breaded chicken on his plate as his lip curled up in disgust. No one spoke and when the front door finally opened I actually sighed audibly, thankful that it would be slightly less awkward.

  Dropping his briefcase by the china hutch and causing the dishes to rattle, my father tugged at his sapphire tie, yanking it loose from his neck. His dark, peppered hair was disheveled from a long, stressful day. “You didn’t need to wait for me,” he quipped and my mother snorted, her dinner already half-eaten. Unbuttoning his cuffs, he rolled his sleeves up his forearms, unveiling a faded tattoo of a Celtic cross hidden under his clothing. My father played a clean-cut lawyer well, but he had a troubled past and that was what made him interested in practicing law. It also made him strict when it came to his only daughter. He knew what young guys thought he’d say. But if that were true he’d know he had nothing to worry about because no guy around here found me even remotely dateable. They all thought I was weird. I’d agree.

  “We’d starve if we waited for you every day. You were supposed to be home an hour ago.” Her sarcastic tone wasn’t bitter but most people around here didn’t seem to understand her humor like they did back East.

  “Well, I’d save a lot of money on liposuction and maybe I wouldn’t have to work such long hours.” My father pressed his lips to the top of my mother’s head as he rounded the table, rolling his eyes at her comment, but he was clearly amused. I had to dip my head to keep her from seeing the smile on my face from his jab. “One of us has to work, Melony.”

  “Putting up with you doesn’t count as work, Drew?” Her eyebrow rose as her emerald eyes locked onto his, narrowing. My parents were deeply in love but their relationship had become strained over the years and my brother overdosing on pills only a few months ago had been the enough to break them down. Unfortunately for me, I was the one left living at home with them so they became overbearing and making it nearly impossible to break out of my shell and live a little. I was determined to change that this year. I wanted to make friends and meet boys.

  “I was wondering if I could go to the mall later with some friends. I need to finish school shopping.” I looked to my brother before back to my dad who had just settled into his chair at the head of the table.

  He groaned, picking up his silverware and eyeing his food as if trying to determine what it was.

  “What friends?” My mother swirled the deep, crimson liquid in her glass before tilting it to her lips and draining the contents over her tongue. My father cleared his throat loudly and she gave him a hard glare before sitting down her glass.

  “I have friends,” I protested but I only really had one, and my mom couldn’t stand her.

  “I’ll take her,” Elik spoke up and I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn’t be forced to tell the lie. I knew I’d owe him later and I really hoped he’d make up with his boyfriend and skip town before that number was called.

  “Thanks,” I mouthed in his direction and he smiled.

  “We’ve discussed this.” He shook his head as if trying to erase the doubt from his mind. “Just stay out of trouble,” my father mumbled with a mouth full of cold green beans.

  My cheeks flamed when I thought of the possibility of going all the way to the mall with the guy across the street. The drive alone would take about an hour. Maybe with the few days left before school, I could convince him that I wasn’t a loser. It would be nice to go to high school with someone by my side. Bridget Lane was the only friend I had and her parents had begun to home school her after being taunted and teased. I barely made it through last year on my own and I didn’t want to be alone again.

  Bridget and I have been friends since I’d moved to town when I was ten, but we barely had anything in common besides being social outcasts. Her southern snark kept everyone at arm’s length and her bombshell looks didn’t help either. The other girls spread rumors like wildfire about her when she’d begun to develop. But worse was the sudden attention she’d received from all the boys. It made her withdrawal even further.

  “When do I ever get into trouble?” I shook my head, disappointed that no matter how well I’d always behaved, they still treated me as if I’d rob the gas station the first time I was turned loose on my own.

  “I see it every day,” My father mumbled and I wanted to scream. Just because other ki
ds were breaking the law, didn’t mean I would.

  “Can’t get in trouble if you never leave me off the leash.”

  “I’d just feel better if you had someone with you that we trust. Maybe Silas can take you.” My father was staring at me now and I felt myself sink down in my seat under his glare.

  Silas Walker had lived three doors down from me since we moved to Louisiana. He’d always been obsessed with science. He would drone on for hours on end about the solar system. We became instant friends because my father worked with his mom and I was the only one who didn’t fall into a coma when he spoke. But all of that changed.

  When he was thirteen he’d skipped ahead a few grades and we didn’t hang out as much since he started high school. At first I was relieved, but when you can count the number of people who like you on one hand, you mourn the loss of even the most monotonous one. But Silas had new friends and was on to a new adventure. I no longer fit into his equation.

  At least this year would we would both be in high school together.

  “Silas is busy hanging out with older kids,” I groaned.

  “More mature,” my father countered. “It would do you some good to make friends with those who have a good head on their shoulders. Never too early to prepare for college.”

  “Dad, I haven’t even started high school yet.”

  “Danny and I broke up,” Elik spoke up, changing the subject once more.

  My father groaned but didn’t look up from his plate. “It’s for the best,” he said without looking up so Elik could see his mouth.

  “Elik’s heart is broken, Dad,” I scolded him as I took a sip from my glass of water.

  His fork clanged against his plate as he looked at my brother, his eyes darting to me with concern. My mother pushed from her seat, taking her wine bottle with her as she staggered into the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he mumbled before taking another bite of his food, his jaw working hard against the tough pork chop. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to focus on college as well.”