by Jayne Allen
“You shouldn’t have to be afraid of the police, Dixie. No kid should have to be.”
Chapter 40
Dixie, who, unfortunately I didn’t know well enough to distinguish her usual cheeriness from unusual nervousness, insisted on holding my hand along the entire car ride and into the church for Granny Tab’s funeral. Us being joined in this way held the same feeling of mild awkwardness as being made to introduce yourself to a stranger at a networking function. It occurred to me that this might be Dixie’s first ever funeral, so I bore out the unease. I figured she wouldn’t be doing it if she didn’t feel that she needed to in some way. Danielle had attached herself to our dad, and similar to Dixie with me, she didn’t let go. Diane had his other side, and I wasn’t sure if it was as support for him, or for her own shoulder to lean on.
While I rode in the limousine, wearing my black sunglasses, I was able to steal a few glances at Diane. It surprised me that she watched me on the news, even when my father wasn’t around, and that she involved the girls in this attenuated way of connecting us all. I guess all these years, it was the most of myself that I had offered to them. Different from the woman threaded through some of my worst memories, this Diane looked older, much older than the version of her in my mind, like a more run-down and road weary version of my tormentor. She looked tired, and blue-black puffed-out bags sat beneath her eyes. I was almost relieved when she put her own sunglasses on just as we arrived at the church.
The group of us walked in and up the aisle to the front section, reserved for family members. I looked briefly to the right and left and could see my mother and the General seated discretely a few rows back. I wondered who else would come. I also saw Ms. Gretchen, wearing a very interesting hat, sitting in the 3rd row of pews. The front of the church was decorated with flowers of all sorts and colors, from planters on the floor to beautiful rose sprays on stands. For a moment, I wondered where they all could have possibly come from. Granny Tab didn’t have much family to claim, and her friends were mostly at Crestmire as I knew it. I also couldn’t imagine how the pews could be so full, of just people that she knew. I leaned over to whisper to my dad.
“Dad, who are all those people?” My dad seemed startled that someone was actually speaking to him. He seemed lost in a world of his own thoughts. He turned to look at me and leaned down to speak to me over Diane and Dixie, who still had not let go of my hand.
“What people?”
“All those people in the pews. I’ve never seen any of them before,” I said, slightly looking back. My dad joined me in looking back as well. He let his glance linger and took his time turning back around.
“You don’t know?” he said to me with surprise.
“No idea. Who are they?”
“They’re all her students,” he said. “And, their families, looks like.” I turned back around, with a profound understanding. In front of me, laid my grandmother in death. But in the rows and rows of full pews behind me, in the people at my sides, and even in the memories inside me, there, I could find her life.
When it got time for me to give Granny Tab’s eulogy, I was asked by the church pastor to come up to the front of the church, to the podium to deliver my remarks. For this, I wouldn’t have minded having Dixie’s hand to hold on to, rather than to walk alone across the front of the church and up the stairs to the pulpit, a place I had not been since my baptism over 20 years prior. I tried to walk steady in my heels, channeling my anxiety into determination and resolve to honor my grandmother in the best way I knew how.
From an elevated position, facing everyone in attendance, I could see much more than before. Not only was I looking out at Granny Tab’s life, I was looking at mine as well. I took a moment to absorb as much as I could before I started. I got a good look at my mom and the General, sitting off to themselves, on the opposite side of my dad and Diane, at a very respectful distance from the front. My mother still looked beautiful, but also appeared slightly worn down—perhaps by grief. The General looked as I remembered him, clean-shaven handsome with brown skin, strong, assured features and a full head of low-clipped salt and pepper hair. His posture was as precise as a Pilates advertisement. I saw Ms. Gretchen, who of course wasn’t wearing black, but some kind of lilac-colored ensemble, with matching nails. I remember her telling me once that she didn’t wear black to funerals—“because the ones I go to, we’re lucky to live this long!” she’d say. “Somebody’s got to be the timekeeper! When I die, folks better walk by my casket and say ‘Congratulations!’” I was grateful for that balancing memory in the effort to maintain my composure. I also saw Lexi, sitting with Rob Jr., Lexington…and Rob. And then, to my surprise, directly in front of her, sat Laila. Laila. As I looked at them, they both connected eyes with me. Lexi had her still-ringless left hand on Laila’s shoulder in front of her and I watched as Laila raised her hand to cover Lexi’s with her own. Their eyes glimmered with wetness, visible even from the distance. I looked away quickly to the back of the room to make sure that my own eyes stayed dry. And there, focused on the back, they connected with Marc, sitting in the last row of pews, in the seat closest to the aisle, leaning towards it. I presumed it was to make sure that I saw him. We locked eyes for only a moment. But it was enough. On the way back to my notes, I let my eyes linger slowly over all the faces of the people I didn’t know. People of all colors, all ages. Some were holding kids in their laps—some were nicely dressed, some had on jeans and looked like they came this day without much knowledge of the dress code for the occasion. But still, they were here.
“Friends, family, colleagues…and…former students,” I began, emphasizing the newly-added words at the end. “I welcome you to a celebration of life for Mrs. Tabitha Abigail Holland Walker, my namesake, and, my grandmother.”
Chapter 41
I delivered my grandmother’s eulogy in a haze of emotion and adrenaline. If I hadn’t written the words before I gave them, I’d have no recollection of what I said at all. For this, I gave myself over entirely to the moment. She deserved the best of everything I had to give.
At the end of the services, we scheduled a modest reception at the church to greet those who would not be attending the much smaller program later at the burial site. Not everyone was capable of devoting a full Wednesday workday to a funeral. This meant, ready or not, we, meaning Granny Tab’s immediate family, would need to transition into socializing mode, almost as if there had been a very sad wedding that just took place, rather than a funeral.
The first wave of people that approached me, I very much did not know. True to my father’s words, they were my grandmother’s former students, and their families. Most shared compliments on the eulogy I delivered and kind thoughts about their time in Mrs. Walker’s classroom. The children that she taught to read, write, and do algebra, just like she did me at her kitchen table, had turned into adults with real lives, and still-lingering fond memories. I was surprised to hear that Granny Tab was also a much beloved counselor—not in the official type of capacity, but the kind that always had an open door, open ears and an open heart for a kid in crisis. My mother rushed over to me, pushing her way through the growing throng of people to give me her own big hug. She squeezed me tightly, in protective mama bear fashion, and I let myself be held, grateful for the connection.
“Tabby Cat!!” my mother exclaimed while still holding me close. “You did an incredible job today. Your speech was perfect…it was moving and excellent, it was such an honor to your grandmother. I’m so proud of you,” she said stepping back, but still holding me at my shoulders. “We are so proud of you.” She motioned with her head to the General, standing just behind her.
“Excellent job, young lady,” he said. He reminded me of Colin Powell in the way that everything he said sounded like an official decree of the Government. My mother beamed through her own weight of sadness. I was just starting to ask her how their trip in from DC was when I saw a head poking up behind h
er, trying to get my attention by pretending that they weren’t. It was Lisa, from KVTV. I looked past my mother, straight at her. What was she doing here? Please not to bother me about work. Not today Lord, I don’t think I have the patience.
“Lisa?” I said to her, loud enough to ensure she heard me. She pretended to be surprised.
“Oh!” she said looking around, as if I could have been calling out to some other Lisa in the vicinity. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to disturb,” she said, tentatively and looking apologetically between me, my mother and the General.
“Oh no, don’t worry!” my mom said, taking the General by the arm. “You two talk—we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.” She turned to Lisa and extended her hand to shake for an introduction. “Hi, I’m Jeanie Williams, Jeanie Walker Williams. I’m Tabby’s mom.”
“Oh, so nice to meet you! Lisa said effusively. “Lisa Sinclair, I’m Tabby’s colleague at KVTV.” My mom also briefly introduced the General as my stepdad and then excused the both of them to move to a different part of the reception, leaving just Lisa and me to talk.
“I hope you don’t mind that I came. I promise I’m not stalking you,” she said with a forced smile.
“I actually probably owe you an apology.”
“No, no, don’t apologize. Really I owe you an apology. When you left the office on Monday, they announced right after that your grandmother had passed, and I felt just awful. I mean, imagine me bringing up something so small in relation to everything you were dealing with in that moment.”
“Really, you had no way of knowing, I…”
“Still, I just get so tunnel vision about things sometimes,” she said. “I’m so caught up in how things could and should be, sometimes I miss seeing…what I need to see, that’s right in front of me.”
“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone,” I said, immediately thinking of myself, with Laila.
“Well, I asked at the station if I could be the one to represent your work family at your grandmother’s funeral.” Lisa smiled at me earnestly. “And wow, I just have to say that was a beautiful service your family had for her—so moving. And to see all those people there…She must have really been an incredible person…and obviously the apple does not fall far…” I managed to summon a smile; I could tell that Lisa was really trying. “Anyway, there’s a flower arrangement up front, on behalf of all of us and you know, sometimes they aren’t as nice in real life as they are when you order online, so you really have to just go and see for yourself, and I…” I shifted on my feet and gathered my patience. It didn’t take much to recognize that she was nervous. Lisa noticed and caught herself. “Sorry, I’m rambling,” she said, suddenly looking down. “You don’t need to know all that. Just…the flowers are there—they’re beautiful—so, there’s that.”
“Thank you, Lisa. Really, I appreciate it.” I still felt the need to apologize, to let her know that I was just overwhelmed, with everything, but was too exhausted to search for the words to say. I tried to make the gesture, but Lisa cut me off before I could begin.
“And most of all, I really did want to apologize to you, personally. I was badgering you about the Women’s Issues group at every possible occasion, and never gave you a minute to catch your breath. I mean, first the promotion battle with Scott, then getting settled into your new role, and then all of Chris’ changes, and pressure…I’m just saying, you were right. You are so strong Tabby. I can see it—I can see myself in you. But I had to realize, strong doesn’t mean invincible…and that you, Tabitha Walker, don’t have to take up every battle.” She reached for my hand and searched to meet my eyes most directly. I allowed the connection. “You don’t,” she emphasized, bringing water to my eyes again, as she gently pulled my hand for emphasis against her words. “And you can’t. It’s not possible…So, I just wanted you to know, that even if you never show up for a single meeting, even if you pick other battles, I’m still going to keep fighting this one for you…for us.” She hugged me and whispered, “I got your back, Girlfriend.” And she pulled herself apart from me, smiled and walked away.
After my conversation with Lisa, I stood still for a window of lost time, stunned into statue-like contemplation. I think my mouth was still slightly open from the shock of it all when Alexis and Laila walked up to me, followed closely by Rob Jr., Lexington and Rob pulling up the rear. I couldn’t help but notice that while Lexi still wasn’t wearing her wedding ring, Rob was wearing his. I didn’t have long to be confused by this because it dawned on me that I hadn’t told Laila, or invited her to the funeral. I prepared myself for awkward.
“Hey Girl!” Lexi said, and ushered Laila and me into a three-way hug. “You did a great job, you really did.”
“Thank you,” I said to Lexi, and then I turned to Laila. By this time, Lexington was wrapped around my legs, his crisp white shirt completely untucked, with chocolate handprints on it. Lexi pushed Rob Jr. forward as well and he gave a slightly higher hug around my waist. They both told me they loved me and moved away, to stand closer to their father.
“Hey Tab,” Rob said as he reached over for a tentative one-armed hug around my shoulders. “I know this can’t be easy, but you did a great job up there, Fam.” He moved to corral the two boys. “Anything you need, ok? Just let us know.” Then he turned to Lexi. “Babe, I’m going to take the boys outside and get them some air. We’ll be out there when you’re done. Take your time.” Once he was safely out of earshot, Lexi turned to me with a what did you expect? kind of look on her face.
“Ok, Rob?” I said to Lexi with a raised eyebrow. She smiled.
“I mean, it’s nothing definite. I’m giving him a chance to show me what he keeps trying to tell me. That’s all. And I’m not putting a damn thing back on this hand until I know for sure.” We all laughed, until Laila spoke up.
“Tabby, Alexis and I, um, we had a chance to talk. I wanted you to know that. We came here together.” I noticed her fidgeting. “And I wanted to be here…because…” Laila looked up and started to smile slowly. “I had to bring you this…for any emergencies.” She pulled back the sleeve of her blouse and showed me a thick chunky bracelet she was wearing. Seeing the confusion on my face, she twisted the bracelet around, showing a small knob on the top that looked like a screw top. “It’s a flask,” she whispered. “Just for you. I’m not drinking, right now,” she said.
I examined her wrist more closely, “Wait, you have a bat signal bracelet?”
“Bat signal!” Both Alexis and Laila affirmed in concert, shaking their heads, Yes.
I laughed. “Oh my God…now you know I’ll be coming to find you later.”
Wrapping up my conversation with the two of them, I knew who I did need to find—Ms. Gretchen. With her soft lavender in a sea of black fabric, it wasn’t difficult. She was standing talking to a group of women and a man that I recognized from Crestmire. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned.
“Tabby!” she said happily. “Now see, I told you I’d get here.”
“Yes, Ms. Gretchen, you did.”
“And you know I don’t wear black.”
“The lavender is lovely. I’m sure Granny Tab would have loved it.” Upon mention of my grandmother, Ms. Gretchen’s eyes softened.
“I…miss my friend,” she said, quietly, as if it were a secret that only the two of us were meant to share.
“I know Ms. Gretchen, I miss her too…” She paused and looked at me, taking my hand.
“You come and see me sometimes, ok?”
“I will, Ms. Gretchen. You know I’ll be there.” Ms. Gretchen smiled, and then, looked as if a good idea had just occurred to her.
“You know, I’ve got my good dress on. I always meet the nicest men at funerals. Mr. Harper just about wore me out on that trip, but I realized that I’m gonna need some new…company.” She gave me a wink and turned and started to walk in the direction of another grou
p of older men that I also recognized from Crestmire. And I noticed, she started to put an exaggerated sway in her hips, the closer that she came to them. She turned around and looked back at me one more time with a smile, and joined the group talking. Alone again momentarily, I looked around for Marc—I realized that I’d seen him at the funeral, but there was no sign of him anywhere so far. I wanted to at least thank him for coming. At least now, I knew he really did care. At a minimum, it was a place to start. Two laps around, at least a fifty hugs and a hundred “I’m so sorry’s” later, I still hadn’t found him—only my dad, standing off to himself in a corner, looking somewhat shell shocked. There was no Diane, Danielle or Dixie in sight. I abandoned my search for Marc and went directly to my father.
