Fallen Elements

by Heather McVea

  “Second door to your left, ma’am. I was told it was your room when you lived here.” Natalie stammered.

  “Thanks.” Ryan trotted up the stairs with her suitcase. Rounding the corner to her room, she heard footsteps from down the hall and stopped.

  “Hey there, cuz.” Andrew Howland was thirty years old, four years older than Ryan. He was a heavy set man whose brown hair was already thinning, and regardless of the time of year, he always had a pasty complexion.

  “Hi, Andrew. Long time.” Ryan put her bag down as her cousin approached her.

  “I heard you were coming.” Andrew had a folded copy of the Wall Street Journal in his hand that he laid down on the banister before wrapping his arms around Ryan. “You’re looking well.”

  Ryan had never cared for her cousin. His hugs lasted too long, and he always appeared to have a slightly lascivious expression on his face. He had been a vindictive child growing up, and though she hadn’t interacted with him regularly in over six years, she couldn’t imagine his temperament had improved. He was thoroughly entrenched in the lifestyle and perceived privilege the Myers’ family wealth afforded him.

  The man leaned away from a stiff Ryan, and put his hand on her shoulder. “I am so sorry about your mother.” He began kneading Ryan’s shoulder, and even through her coat, his touch made her squeamish.

  “Thanks.” Ryan stepped back, nearly falling over her suitcase. “I’m going to put my stuff in the room, and then I’ll be down.”

  Andrew feigned a concerned expression as Ryan grabbed her bag and disappeared down the hall. Once safely in the room, Ryan shuddered as she took her coat off, tossing it on the massive bed in the center of the room. The space was nearly as large as her Baltimore row house. He’s still a jackass.

  Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was designed in a traditional style with dark woods throughout the space. Ryan wondered if her family had ever met a claw footed table or wing-backed chair they didn’t like.

  There was a light knock on the door, and Ryan took a deep breath, bracing herself for what lay ahead.

  “Ryan! I’m so glad you’re here.” Carol Howland rushed into the room, pulling Ryan into a warm embrace.

  The two women had kept in touch since Ryan left New York. Carol had even managed to visit Ryan in Baltimore several times. Still, it had been over a year since she had seen Carol, and Ryan genuinely missed her cousin.

  The two women had grown up together, and had often found trouble together. Ryan grinned, remembering the time she and Carol were suspended from the Birch Wathen Lenox school for smoking in the girls’ locker room.

  Still holding Carol’s hand, Ryan smiled and took a step back. “Your Facebook photos don’t do you justice. You look wonderful.” The woman was a few inches shorter than Ryan with a lean build, chestnut shoulder length hair, and smooth alabaster skin. Two years in braces when she was fourteen had afforded her a beautifully straight, full smile.

  Carol blushed. “You too. I’m just sorry we’re seeing each other again like this.”

  Ryan felt her stomach sour. Since finding out two days ago that her mother had died, Ryan had very little time to contemplate how she felt about the untimely death of a woman she hadn’t seen in over six years.

  “Me too. How are you holding up?” Ryan pulled Carol across the room, and the two women sat on the small loveseat in front of the lit fireplace.

  Carol looked down at the floor. “My mother is beside herself with the planning. You know Lucy - everything has its place, and perception, perception, perception.”

  Ryan did know her aunt. Though they had been close when she was younger, Lucy made no secret of the fact her priorities were always what was best for the Myers’ name. The individual was frequently lost in her aunt’s calculations.

  Lucy’s pride was not without merit. The Myers’ genealogy could be traced back to the Mayflower, and their ancestors who traveled on it - Isaac Allerton and his wife Remembrance. Regardless, Ryan had always found Lucy’s blind reverence to family, and her zealous protection of it, disconcerting.

  “Where is Lucy?” Ryan wanted to get the initial awkwardness of seeing her aunt for the first time in years over with. Her head was pounding just with the thought of it.

  “She’s upstairs in her office, ordering enough flowers to start a nursery.” Carol took Ryan’s hand in hers. “Is this terrible for you?”

  Ryan leaned back on the sofa. “Yes. I hadn’t talked to my mother in years, and to get your call that she had died -” The woman’s breath caught. It was the first time she had said that her mother was dead. “It was a shock.”

  Ryan looked down at where her and her cousin’s hands were joined, and then, taking a deep breath, released the woman’s hand and stood. She knew eventually the regret of letting her and her mother’s relationship implode would catch up with her, and she dreaded it.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan.” Carol’s voice broke as she stood and hugged the woman.

  Ryan was grateful for the comfort. She didn’t know how the next few days would unfold, but she felt fortunate that Carol would be there with her.

  ***

  Ryan made her way through the third level of the house toward her aunt’s study. The house was enormous by New York standards, and she remembered getting lost down its many halls and rooms as a child.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” Natalie’s voice came from behind Ryan as she stood outside the door to Lucy’s study.

  Spinning around, Ryan was startled. “Ah, no. I’m just going to talk to my aunt.”

  Natalie looked at the large oak door, and then back at Ryan. “She prefers if you knock.”

  Ryan hesitated, and then slowly nodded. “Thanks.”

  Waiting for Natalie to leave, Ryan turned back around, her hand hovering over the door. Christ, just knock. She had stood outside this door on more than one occasion as a child, waiting for her aunt to summon her. Carol, Andrew, and Ryan were forbidden to go into the room without an adult.

  “There are things in my study that are none of your business, and you wouldn’t understand them anyway.” Lucy had chided Ryan and Carol after finding them hiding under her desk with several antique books strewn around them.

  “But Mom, why can’t we look at the books?” Carol had insisted, her eight year old voice verging on a whine.

  “Because I said so, and I’m the adult and the authority.” Lucy had looked down at her daughter, the tension in her voice making it clear she was cross with being challenged.

  Now, remembering the sternness in her aunt’s voice, Ryan took a deep breath, and knocked. The thickness of the door muffled her rapping.

  “Come in.” A man’s voice Ryan recognized as her uncle Derek’s responded from the other side of the door.

  Ryan turned the brass door knob and slowly opened the door. The study ran the entire length of the townhouse along the backside of the third floor. It was originally servants’ quarters that Ryan’s grandfather had converted into a large library. Lucy had claimed the space as her study shortly after her father died.

  The room was lined with floor to ceiling mahogany bookshelves, and the floor was a series of maple and mahogany inlays in a star pattern throughout the room. The Myers family had always put particular emphasis on education. To that end, the library was full of first edition and rare books from all over the world. It wasn’t uncommon to find several of the Myers’ treasures on loan at any of the countless museums throughout New York City.

  “Ryan.” Lucy got up from behind a large dark maple French Regency style desk, her arms outstretched as she walked toward her niece.

  Lucy Myers-Howland was two years older than Ryan’s mother had been. But unlike Karen, who had had dark hair and an olive tone to her skin, Lucy had dark blonde hair, with pale skin. She was 5’6”, and her hair was always immaculately styled and trimmed to just above her shoulders. Regardless of the time of day, the woman was always dressed like she was going to a high end restaurant.

  By contras
t, Derek Howland was an inch short of six feet tall, and his hair - like his son’s - was dark and thinning. Ryan had always thought it odd that in spite of the fact the man ran five miles a day, he was a bit on the heavy side. Karen had always attributed her brother-in-law’s portliness to the man’s affinity for dry martinis with practically every meal.

  Lucy wrapped her arms around Ryan, and the scent of Clive Christian No. 1 wafted over her. Ryan’s aunt had worn the jasmine and vanilla scented perfume for as long as Ryan could remember. It wasn’t until Ryan was living in Baltimore that she came across a bottle of the fragrance while working a holiday season at Neiman Marcus. Ryan had nearly passed out when she saw the eight hundred and ninety five dollar price tag.

  “How was your trip? Have you eaten? Did Natalie get you settled?” Lucy gushed as she looked Ryan up and down.

  Ryan had mastered the art of allowing her aunt no less than three consecutive questions before even attempting a response. “The trip was fine. I haven’t eaten yet, but I can grab something from the kitchen. Natalie was very helpful.”

  Lucy frowned. “I’m in shock. You must be -” The woman took a deep breath and releasing Ryan, fanned her hand in front of her face. “Oh, I told myself I wouldn’t cry until the funeral.” Lucy turned and leaned on the front of her desk. “I can cry when I’ve done right by my sister.”

  “What happened, Aunt Lucy?” The call from Carol, and the subsequent rush to leave Baltimore, had left many questions unanswered for Ryan. This one was the most pertinent.

  Lucy tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “She fell. She was getting into the bath, slipped, and – that was it.” She squeezed Ryan’s upper arms, and then took a step back, leaning on the edge of her desk.

  Derek, who had been sitting on a brown, leather camelback sofa perpendicular to Lucy’s desk, stood up, his signature martini glass in hand. “I’m sorry about your mother. She and I didn’t always get on, but I liked her.”

  Ryan nodded, knowing that was about as much as Derek was capable of. She wondered if his apathy was a result of his alcoholism, or if he had become an alcoholic out of apathy. Chicken or the egg? Ryan thought.

  “So she drowned?” Ryan didn’t want to be morbid, but in spite of their falling out, how the woman who raised her died seemed to warrant more detail than simply she fell.

  Lucy walked back around her desk and sat down. “Yes. She slipped getting into the bath, struck her head, and then drowned while unconscious.” Before Ryan could respond, Lucy continued. “I’ve asked Carol to help you with something to wear. There will be a viewing tomorrow night, and the services are scheduled for Wednesday.” Lucy turned and began thumbing through her appointment calendar. “I’ve ordered flowers from the family, and took the liberty of ordering an arrangement from you.”

  Ryan felt tears welling up. Her chest suddenly felt very tight, and the air in the library seemed thick. The idea of her mother drowning to death in two feet of bath water brought bile to the back of Ryan’s throat. She wanted to be annoyed with Lucy over the attention she was paying to mundane details, but Ryan couldn’t muster the energy.

  Lucy had always taken liberties with people under the guise of being helpful. Lucy seemed to be perpetually under-estimating people’s abilities to act on their own and in a manner up to her standards.

  “Thank you for the flowers. I’ve brought my own clothes.” In the end, Ryan didn’t see the point of arguing. She was tired, and after the next few days wouldn’t see any more of her aunt than she had over the past six years.

  Lucy put her hand on her hip, the platinum and diamond Cartier tennis bracelet dangling from her wrist. “I’m sure what you brought is fine, but fashions can vary. Particularly between New York and Baltimore.”

  Lucy had always considered Ryan’s decision to move to Baltimore one of her more serious infractions. The city was founded by the working class, and had been built up through the hard work of factory laborers over the generations.

  Ryan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll give Carol final veto on the clothes. Is that fair?”

  Lucy pursed her lips. “Okay.”

  Ryan nodded. “I’m tired, and am going to take a nap before dinner.”

  “Six o’clock sharp.” Lucy smiled.

  “Always.” Ryan turned and left the room. She was already exhausted and she hadn’t even gotten to the funeral.

  “Was she everything you remembered?” Carol was going up the stairs as Ryan descended.

  “Picture of perfection.” Ryan teased.

  Carol laughed. “And Dad?”

  Ryan made a gesture as if she were swirling a glass and drinking from it.

  Carol tisked. “The question is never if my father is drinking, but how many.”

  Ryan squeezed Carol’s hand and quickly released it. “I’m going to lie down. Do you want to get a drink or something after dinner?”

  Carol nodded, a broad smile on her lips. “After the past few days, I’m willing to give my father a run for his money.”

  Ryan laughed as she made her way back to her room. Shutting the door behind her, she unlaced her boots, and kicked them to the side of the nightstand. Pulling the comforter back, she slid into the warm bed.

  Ryan knew all families were inherently messy. People brought their own baggage into the mix, and managed to create new pitfalls and traumas along the way. She wondered if her family was unique in how they seemed to revel in the disasters.

  Chapter 2

  Ryan stood next to the black Cadillac XTS limousine with her hands buried deep in the pockets of her navy pea coat. The chill in the air cut through the thin fabric of her black boot cut slacks, and she was grateful for her coat as the thin gray, V-neck sweater she wore under it offered very little warmth.

  She watched the stream of mourners wind their way through the headstones that peppered the Trinity Church Cemetery as they made their way to her mother’s gravesite. The cemetery had been established in the mid eighteen hundreds as the result of overcrowding in the original Trinity Church’s churchyard cemetery.

  Though sparse from the last pangs of winter, the gently rolling hills and maple trees that peppered the cemetery offered a stark contrast to the concrete and steel of the city that surrounded the cemetery. Ryan thought if it weren’t for the headstones and mausoleums she might imagine she was in a lovely park.

  Ryan stared at one of the nearby gray brick and concrete mausoleums. Her eyes felt heavy and dry from a fitful night of sleep. The name Astor came into focus, the word carved into the stone in large block letters.

  Ryan told herself she needed to walk, but her feet seemed unwilling to move her forward. Lucy had already chastised her when Ryan had asked for a few minutes before taking her seat with the rest of the family. Carol had managed to distract her mother, and spare Ryan the irritation, by complimenting Lucy on the beautiful floral arrangements that had adorned the church during services.

  “It’s what Karen would have wanted. She simply adored flowers.” Lucy had wiped at an invisible tear with the pressed silk handkerchief she had been carrying with her all morning.

  Carol nodded, and looking up at Ryan, smirked. Both women knew Karen’s affinity for nature, and how active she had been throughout her life with local botanical groups. Carol and Ryan also knew the last thing Karen would have wanted was countless flowers and vines, in essence, killed for her sake.

  “It’s all so lovely, Mother.” Carol placed her hand on the small of her mother’s back, and guided the woman toward the cemetery.

  “I’ll wait with you.” Ryan hadn’t realized Andrew was standing next to her. His nose was red from the cold.

  “It’s okay. I just need a minute on my own.” Ryan forced gratitude into her voice, but the truth was she loathed her cousin, and his attentions were, especially today, unbearable.

  Shrugging, Andrew began walking after his sister and mother. “Suit yourself.”

  Now, Ryan wasn’t sure she could move at all. Though the air
felt thin with the cold, an unimaginable weight was pushing down on her, and she thought she might break. Her mother was dead. People had stood up and attested to it for the past hour in front of God and some of the wealthiest people in New York. Individuals Ryan didn’t know talked about how wonderful her mother had been, and how selflessly she had given of her time and resources.

  Ryan had been shocked at how angry the scene had made her. She imagined she had inadvertently wandered into a stranger’s funeral. She didn’t know the person they were talking about. Her mother had been cynical and judgmental. Her mother had been selfish, and tried for years to shape Ryan into her own image, with no consideration or compassion for the person her daughter was or wanted to be.

  Ryan tilted her head up. The sky was partly cloudy and it smelled like it might rain. Standing next to the car, she couldn’t remember when she had started crying. She wiped at her face with the back of her gloved hand, the rough leather texture scratching at her cheeks.

  “Would you like a tissue, miss?” The middle aged limousine driver was standing next to Ryan, a pastel colored box of tissue held out in front of him. “There’s water in the car if you would like.”

  Ryan pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her nose. “No, thank you.” She managed a weak smile at the kind man before taking a tentative step forward.

  “It’s done so quickly.” The man said casually.

  Turning her head, Ryan looked at the driver. “The day has been a whirlwind.”

  The man grinned. “No, miss. Life. Life is done so quickly.” Shaking his head, the driver turned and walked back around the car.

  Ryan felt an odd calm wash over her as she crumpled the tissue and put it in her pocket. She would be through this in relative seconds, compared to the entirety of her life. She would feel hollow, stripped and inside out, but then she wouldn’t. She would resign herself to having only known a portion of her mother, a small spot in what was certainly an expansive woman.