by Celie Wells
“Come with me, My Lady. The winter formal is this way,” he joked.
“Ugg, this fluffy pink horror is fricking awful looking, isn't it?”
“You look stunning and sparkly—a bioluminescence double punch.”
“I might throw up right here, but I don't think I have eaten anything today.”
“You look great in everything you wear. Take a deep breath and grab my hand. Let's walk in with the rest of your family, and then we'll get you a cold drink.”
Jason was wearing a dark formal suit complete with a gold antique wristwatch and cufflinks. He looked years older like a wealthy businessman here to buy or sell off the township. That feeling in the pit of my stomach started to roll and flutter.
On the back of his hand was a red welt left behind from our melted crayons the night before. The muscles in my face protested as they produced their first genuine smile of the day.
My cold fingers slid across his warm palm, and a wave of peace poured over me. He looked so tall and perfect leading me into the party behind a growing number of family and guests. Refreshments wouldn't be served until after a reading of poems and sharing family history by the hosts. My mouth was dry, and my head buzzed with panic.
Jason took me into the bar and ordered two glasses of fortified vitamin water and a plate of preserved fruit and cheese. The waiter looked annoyed by our request until Jason swiped his payment card.
“Right away, Mr. Fuller, please have a seat anywhere you like.” The waiter hurried off and arrived back with our order just as quickly.
“Eat some fruit, the sugar will help you get some strength back and drink all the water you can. Just tell me if you're going to throw up. The sidewalk is still hot enough to fry it on the spot,” Jason declared in a more serious tone than I was used to hearing from him.
I shook my head and smiled. “I think this will settle my stomach nicely. Thank you.”
“Good, we don't have to go in until you're ready, but I need to say something. You may not be happy with me, or maybe you will. I'm not sure.”
“Okay, now you have my attention. What stupid thing have you done?” I sat with my hands folded in my lap prepared for any number of confessions based on a long list of previous stupid things I have seen and helped Jason do.
“My grandfather is... well, he wants to protect you and your family by making us related to you,” Jason explained quietly.
“What? We aren't related at all, Ja,” I whispered back.
“I understand that fact, and he knows that too, but he wants to link your family to ours in case.”
“In case what?” Jason slid his hand under my palm and squeezed my fingers.
“I'm not exactly sure, but I want you to marry me when we legally can. I want you to agree to an engagement with me here tonight. I want your grandparents to hear we are getting married before they pass, and I want to announce it in front of everybody. I don't want you to be surprised by any of this and be mad at me.”
“Okay,” I replied calmly.
“Okay, what? Will you agree to the engagement?” He asked.
“I understand why you thought I would be mad. The thing that upset me so much about this stupid dress is that I didn't want you to see me wearing this thing. It looks like a child's party dress, and I don't want to look like a child to you. I will marry you, but this confession of yours does not count as my proposal,” I grabbed Jason's wrist and squeezed. “I expect something spectacular.”
“Spectacular? Sure, thing Kar, of course,” Jason put his hand over mine and nodded in agreement. “But you don't look like a child. You look like a Granddaughter who is trying to keep her grandmother happy.” He pulled at a stray sequin threatening to fall in my water. “I have never thought of you as anything less than mine. That kinda sounds creepy. Beryl is a sister to me, and I love your parents, but you have always been mine. I can't think of you any other way,” He explained a bit flustered.
“I understand it is a little creepy. It's strangely sweet too. We are expected in the celebration room soon, aren't we?” I asked.
“Yeah, we are.” I got up from my chair and slid my arms around Jason's crisp white shirt. He pulled me to him and kissed my forehead.
“We can join them, or we can watch the party from the bar. I'm only here for you. I do whatever you want.” Jason looked down at the table and turned the almost empty plate of fruit towards me.
“I think it would be okay for you to kiss me for the first time again.” Jason slid his hand across my neck and held my chin in his warm hand. He tasted like apricots and ice water. The flutter in my stomach grew until it melted into something warm and dizzying.
This kiss was an open mouth, long kiss—full of intention and meaning that I couldn't put a label on. Jason smiled and rubbed his thumb along the curve of my chin. He was happy that much I gathered. Unfortunately, this was not a place where I could feel happy.
As if it had a mind of its own, my hand kept a tight grip on Jason's arm throughout most of the party. Dredge took care of all the announcements and presented me with a beautiful black diamond broach that had once belonged to his grandmother Iris.
When the last guests left, a strange sense of panic coiled around me, making it hard to take a deep, full breath. Everything became quiet even while people busy clearing the hall rushed by me.
Finally, a moment alone with my grandparents appeared, and the world became noisy again. They hugged and kissed each of us and told us how proud they were of all our accomplishments. Jason began to excuse himself from the group. My grandfather called him back, loudly professing that Jason was now a part of our family.
Their last meal wheeled past us. The shiny steel cart was rolled into their bedroom chamber by servers wearing disposable gloves. I couldn't help but notice the care they took not to touch the food or the serving trays directly.
I sucked in a shocked breath. “Don't look in the room. You are never going to need one. You and I will live to be a hundred and die side by side warm in our bed,” Jason professed.
“You can't possibly know that.” I choked back a fat lump of disgust. “This isn't right,” I panted slowly.
“Hold my hand and let me get you out of here.” Jason walked me to the front of the dwindling crowd of event workers and shook my grandfather's hand one last time.
I hugged them both and stood off to the side to peek into their celebration suite. Clean whiteness smiled back at me. White furnishings and glass tables sat waiting for them holding trays of fruit and cakes. There was nothing ominous, nothing that said death or pain by dismemberment.
The valet parked our cars in front of the building. The cleanup team began removing the tables and chairs from the celebration room. It became apparent that we were expected to leave.
Jason and my father nodded to my grandfather and then led our group outside. My mother was crying openly, and I couldn't stop tears from running down my face. Beryl was silent and remained that way all the way home. Hess was very drunk and slept in the back of the transport for some time that night.
Jason helped me out of the transport and walked me to the house. A section of encrusted sparkles fell off my shoe, and I broke down crying. Jason gathered me up into his arms, carried me into my bedroom, and carefully placed me on the bed. My father followed behind us, patted Jason on the shoulder and thanked him for his help.
“I'll be back tomorrow morning Kar, I hope you sleep well,” Jason pulled a small throw blanket over my legs, kissed my forehead and left. He and my father whispered in the hallway before his light, quick steps walked out of the front door.
Loneliness found me an hour later. It was impossible to stay asleep. My new lace quilt sat folded at the end of my bed. I carefully removed my black diamond heirloom and hid beneath the thick quilt.
The air beneath the blanket felt restricted and warm. I held my breath over and over, trying to create the sensation of suffocation. This method of death always fascinated me, but I can't hold my breath very long be
fore my body takes over and forces me to breathe.
Each time I held my breath longer I grew sleepier, and my thoughts became lighter until finally, my mind drifted off into quiet dreams.
LAST REQUESTS
“Constance for the love of Pete, come sit down with me.” Ed put the television on a nature program about the ancient oceans. The sounds of the waves and birds were tranquil in our sterile room.
The room was white on white with minimal furnishings. A bed, a desk, and a narrow table for food dotted the room. I heard stories about couples that trashed their rooms before dying. I can't imagine why they would do such a thing, but it did seem practical to have a sparse final space.
The celebration package we settled on had only a few frills, but we both liked the food upgrade option. The room's lockbox was about the size of a shoebox, but it allowed you to send final letters and jewelry items back to your loved ones. I was happy with our final arrangements.
“I have three more thank you cards to sign Edward, they aren't going to sign themselves,” I explained.
“I've already had some of the wine and the chocolate cake,” Ed stated in a loud, firm voice.
“I had a piece of the cake too, but I need to function for a few more minutes.”
“One more bite of something sweet then it’s lights out for me. Won't you sit beside me, sweetheart,” Edgar sighed.
“Wait a few minutes. We agreed I would sign the cards and fill the lockbox before we ate the second item.”
“I'm not going to change my mind, Constance, my love. It's too late now, even if I wanted to.”
“I know you're not.” I placed the last note in the box. “All done with that task. Now the strawberries and then I will have my wine and catch up to you. Anything else to add to the box before I seal it shut?”
“No, I put my ring and my final letters away already.”
“Look, I'm going to gulp down the wine right now, you old fart.”
“Get on the bed woman, or you might just keel over on the damn floor,” Ed protested, dropping his arms on the bed dramatically.
“Pray with me, Ed, just one last Our Father, and hold the rosary with me.”
“Sure, can't hurt now. Not like anyone can arrest us for religious practice.” We quietly recited the Lord's Prayer. The struggle in Ed's voice as he fought to push out each blessed word brought tears to my eyes.
“We will be huge trees one day, Ed. Intertwined together at the base of an oak tree for all time.” I delighted in the thought of nurturing something so beautiful and vital in my death.
“Yes, my dear, we will be one big ass green tree. Kiss me and move closer before your wine sets in. I can barely move my arms over my head,” Edgar stated coolly.
I moved my body close to his. “Can you reach the strawberry on your chest?”
“Yeah, here goes nothing, I love you, my sweetheart. We had a good life, and now we will have a good death. I'll see you in a few minutes.” Ed popped the unnaturally red fruit in his mouth.
“I love you. I love you, my Sweet. Ed, do you need another berry? Ed?” My husband of fifty-five years stopped breathing. I took the gold cross from my palm and wrapped it around his hand just as the Priest instructed. I did the same with my hand and took a final bite from the strawberry before burying my face into Ed's arm.
The food was poisoned. A three-part cocktail that slowly stops all body functions and brings on a smooth, fast death. We would not be feeding the evaporators in the morning. The reclamation crew would find the crosses coiled in our hands and call our Priest. He, along with a few faithful souls from our congregation, would collect our bodies for the tree museum.
Religion is outlawed but donating your body to a scientific organization was not. Burial is prohibited but using a donated human body to nourish an endangered tree is not. It was the only way to have a Christian burial, and I was happy the church found an acceptable loophole ready to give us this option.
I was a few minutes behind Ed's chemical state. I read all the literature and took the final preparations classes, but this was not what I envisioned for my last moments on earth. I was weak but not unconscious. Ed's chest shuttered as his body gasped his last breaths of air. The remains of my strawberries sat in my hand next to my cross.
My last physical act was to slide my hand along Ed's torso and place the fruit in my mouth. The light from the television flickered blue waves from the ancient seas across the white walls, but the noise became incoherent. The fruit was soft and cold on my tongue. An odd tingle of chemicals and sweet sugar filled my mouth as creeping darkness filled my eyes.
“Connie, my love, come with me, this way, come this way.” Ed stood in the middle of a ball of light right where the television screen had been. I couldn't look straight at him. It was like trying to look at the sun.
The white room faded from my view, and I began to panic. “Ed, where are you. Wait for me. I'm almost able to move.” I put my hand out into the light and found his warm hand waiting for mine.
The sensation of rising filled my mind, but my body was absent. Light and free, I followed alongside my husband. Stopping for a moment, I looked down at the bed, and the two old bodies coiled together.
“Don't look back, my love,” he cautioned. “Look forward, look at the beauty waiting for us ahead.” Ed tugged my hand and brought me back to the moment. It was beautiful, so I let all that tethered me to the old body on the bed fall to the ground.
I turned to face the bright lights ahead, put on my best smile, and held Ed's hand tightly. “Okay, I'm ready now, let's go.”
MUSEUMS
Pools of water and walls of black smoke filled my dreams these past few nights. I'm not sure what significance these images have for my subconscious. We visited an Agra complex for career week, and I stood two stories above a water vat. The dark liquid was so still and calm. It felt like watery arms would reach out from the deep and pull me to the bottom of the tank. I decided then and there that farming was not going to be my thing. I feel the same way today, like some ridiculous impossible thing is pulling me towards death.
It's traditional for friends and neighbors to bring food and wood to the family of the sacrificed. It is supposed to lighten their burden and show the gratitude of the community. Society collectively scaled this old practice back to dense spice cakes wrapped in colorful foil and simple containers of wood chips for mulching. Despite this new practice, several of our neighbors left us boxes of fresh baked goods overnight.
The family ate breakfast quickly, we dressed in our best somber-looking clothing and piled in the transport again. Conversation on the way to the museum was limited to basic pleasantries. The theology reading was optional, but it signaled the end of our life celebration event.
Hess and Nina took my mother's car. Space away from Hess and any conversation he might start about my future was a welcome relief.
The museum invites attendees to wander throughout the massive expanse of green trees and colorful flowering bushes and reflect. The high walls and cold stone floors give an ominous feeling to the building. Open spaces between the groups of trees provide a natural spot to gather and admire the many memorials disguised as charitable contributions. Copper plaques with familiar family names stood by each grouping of plant and tree documenting their loss.
The horticultural society also provides the museum with two types of genetically modified birds and several butterflies species that roam freely among the branches. The air is moist and smells like ginger with faint hints garlic and pine.
Beryl was given a gift of university fund credits by my soon to be father-in-law. It appeared my grandmother arranged for Beryl to meet a potential benefactor after the theology reading.
Hess, occupied by his friendly new companion Nina, hadn't found the time to grill me over my life path choices or my publicly announced marriage to Jason.
Marriage, what a big fat, embarrassing word. Everyone seemed to be looking at Jason and me with such intensity now. So much
change happened in so few days. I could barely catch my breath long enough to change my clothes and present myself for the next round of stranger hugging.
Most people say I resemble my grandmother when she was my age. It was a nice compliment, but pictures of her from her early teens prove she was much prettier than I could ever hope to be.
Beryl inherited our grandmother's shapely hands and long fingernails. My hands are more utilitarian, presumably like my father's side of the family. Flipping my hands over and back again, I could see the thickness and shortness missing from my sister's hands.
“Why are you staring at your hands, Kar?” Jason asked while rubbing his hand on my back in a small circle.
“They're not delicate hands are they. I'm afraid any wedding ring will look ridiculous on my chubby fingers.”
“Really? Hmm, I happen to like your hands.” Jason gestured for me to sit on a bench next to a gardenia bush. According to the metal plaque next to the bush, it was an heirloom variety donated by the Brewster family ten years prior.
“You have strong hands. They aren't the hands of an over-pampered, fake polish wearing woman who worries about chipping her manicure. You never hesitate to get dirty or have fun. It's one of the many things I love about you.”
Jason kissed the back of each of my hands before sitting next to me on the bench. He told me about our dinner plans and how his grandfather knew Beryl's new benefactor. I tried to listen to the details. I care for my sister's well-being, but I couldn't help but roll the thought around in my head. What did I love about Jason?
Hess stood across the area, looking at tree bark with my mother. I glanced up in time to catch his highbrow smile. Hess was on his way over with a determined look of concern in his eyes. My most dreaded conversation was about to take place in perhaps the most beautiful setting I could imagine.
