Captured Lies

by Maggie Thom

"Oh Heavenly Father please accept Donna into your arms. Take care of her for those on earth who loved her?"

  The minister's voice droned on. Bailey bowed her head, letting the tears fall freely. She couldn't understand why her mom hadn't told her she was ill. They never really talked about anything personal, ever unless it was a fight, but she didn't think that was an excuse for her mom not to tell her something of this magnitude.

  Bailey dug in the right pocket of her long, blue coat, to dig out a fresh tissue. All she managed to find was a mangled one that had seen better times. The left one was already full of used ones. She held the shredded pieces together and blew her nose as best she could. Stuffing it back in her pocket she raised her head. The few other attendees, whom she had no idea who they were, still had their heads bowed. Thankful for the reprieve from the, I'm-so-sorry look everyone was giving her, she looked straight up. Clouds and blue sky mixed, letting the sun play hide and seek. She let herself drift with the ever changing sky, blanking out all that was going on around her. A stiff breeze whipped around her, enveloping her in its cool biting presence. She shivered. She shifted from foot to foot. Normally two-inch heels didn't bother her but today they were pinching like crab pincers. The minister's voice carried on in that monotone voice that was an instant sleep inducer. She tuned him out. Sleep was something she could use. About seventy-two hours worth.

  But not yet.

  She had just a conversation with her mom the week before. It had been awkward and stilted and about the weather and politics rather than their fight several days before. Her mom never said a word about being unwell.

  But she'd known.

  Bailey clenched her hands. She was tempted to look at her watch but she could hear her mom telling her it would be just plain rude. 'It's over when it's over.' She didn't want to do anything that would upset her mom on this day. Maybe she could do something just once that would make her mom proud.

  The pressure sitting on her chest felt like a hundred pound anvil, teetering, ready to crash. Anger, frustration, anguish, fear, sadness, rolled, twisted and churned in Bailey's stomach, as all the times she and her mom used to fight, ran through her mind. They came fast and furious, spinning like a top, zipping from one to another and back again. Startled by the speed with which it hit, she looked around feeling exposed, like everyone knew what she was thinking. And thinking she deserved it.

  She forced her thoughts to other things. Had she called Tina before she left? She hoped that her friend hadn't driven across the city to find out she wasn't at her office. A niggling memory of planning something with Tina and Deb this weekend popped into her mind but she couldn't remember what exactly. She'd have to call them.

  They'd be mad. It wasn't the first time. The other times had involved her mom too. Not that her friends knew that. She'd never discussed her family or lack of it. This was another rule she'd had to live by.

  It's all fixable.

  Looking up, her gaze was caught by the sight of the casket. The finality of what it meant slammed into her.

  This? this isn't fixable.

  She buried her face in her hands and pushed hard. Not here. Not now. She wanted privacy when she let loose. Up until now she'd been too numb to really take it in. But this?this was final. There was no going back. No, 'I'm sorry Mom. We disagree but that's okay I still love you.'

  Why didn't you tell me you were sick Mom? Or did you?

  The time, a few months before, when she'd left her friends high and dry, to zip home because of her mom's urgent and very bizarre phone call, wouldn't be pushed away. Her mom had phoned and demanded that Bailey come home immediately.

  She'd panicked and taken the next flight. It had been a really bizarre week. Her mom had insisted she just needed to see her daughter, they didn't spend enough time together but she wouldn't share more than that. She had sworn she was just lonely, feeling bad about the relationship they had. Everything had felt off. Bailey had felt queasy, the same feeling she'd had growing up, every time they'd fled from their latest location. At her mom's insistence, she'd finally put her mom's bizarre behavior down to stress, being overworked, worrying too much about the store, about Bailey being in the news.

  But maybe it had been something else.

  Was it part of your illness, Mom?

  Bailey sighed. Exhaustion rolled over her like a Mac truck. Her hands fell to her sides, her shoulders sagged, her chin fell to her chest and her mind went blank.

  "She was taken from us?"

  Bailey shook her head, trying to deny what was happening. Stretching her eyes open wide, she blinked several times. Restlessly she shuffled her feet. The scent of lilac drifted up to her. The funeral home had taken care of every detail. The gravesite was littered with a carpet of lilacs. Her mother's favorite flower and smell from her childhood. One of the few memories she had shared with Bailey. That and that there were no living relatives. And the rest of her childhood was too painful to share - especially as to why there was no other family.

  "Let's bow our head in prayer. Oh Heavenly Father?"

  Bailey closed her eyes while the reverend recited the words. Not because she was following the ritual of prayer but because she didn't have the energy left to keep them open. She clasped her hands in front of her. A strong spring breeze whipped around her, slicing through her thin dress coat.

  "Excuse me, Miss Saunders?"

  It took a moment for Bailey to realize the Minister was talking to her. She blinked at him. Genuine concern was etched in his features and it pulled at Bailey with the deepest yearnings of an emotionally starved child. She barely caught herself from leaning against him. Just for a moment she wanted someone to take this away.

  Stand on your own two feet, Bails. I didn't raise a weakling. Bailey snapped upright as her mom's words popped into her mind.

  "The service is done. Your mom will be laid to rest in the ground later today?."

  Bailey blinked several times. Too numb to talk or to really understand what he was saying, she nodded. Squeezing her hand, he said, "May God be with you."

  "Thank you Reverend," she mumbled in return. He moved off towards a waiting car. The funeral was finally over. Could she finally go home and?. and?.

  "Hello. We're Mr. and Mrs. Prichard." They grasped Bailey's limp hand. "We're so sorry for your loss."

  Bailey turned and smiled wanly at them.

  "We were regulars at your mom's store. She found some of the most exotic candies I've ever tasted. That Delafee Chocolate she imported was very expensive but it was to die for." The woman's eyes opened wide as what she said registered. She turned a bright shade of red. "She'd never give away her secrets as to where she got her stuff. She was a very mysterious lady but such a pleasure. I'm really sorry she's gone."

  Bailey nodded, not sure what else to do. "Thank you. Mom would be happy you're here." The middle-aged couple moved off towards a beautiful red convertible.

  "Ooooohhhhh. My dear-"

  "How tragic. This is just so wrong-"

  "Your mom was in the prime of her life. I'm so sorry."

  Two stooped, cane-carrying ladies moved right into her face and talked over the top of each other. Bailey looked from one to another and then gave up trying to figure out who was saying what.

  "It's never the right time. But she's with God now-"

  "She's walking in the hands of the Lord?"

  It dawned on her that these two might just be professional funeral goers. Her mom didn't have any best friends. Or real friends, for that matter. Everyone was just an acquaintance. That was one of the things they'd argued about over the years. Her mom had taught her from a young age, don't make friends, they'll just hurt you or you'll hurt them.

  Her friends Tina and Deb immediately came to mind. Isn't that what she'd done to them? Again. And again. She'd tried to make them friends, thinking it would solve everything but it only created headaches. She sucked at it as she felt she did at most things in her life.

  "Thank you. Excuse me." Bailey moved back
from the two women who were openly bawling like they'd lost their very own child. Sidestepping them, Bailey made her way around the gravesite. A couple and a young girl of about twelve stepped in front of her. Bailey tried to hide her annoyance.

  "Hi. We're sorry for your loss."

  "Thank you." Bailey tried to go around the threesome but the woman put her hand on her arm, detaining her. Bailey looked at them blankly.

  "Your mom was so good to Taylor." The woman smiled at her daughter. "She used to come watch Taylor dance. She taught her more about ballet then I think the instructors did. Our Taylor blossomed under your mom's teachings."

  Bailey nodded. It wouldn't do any good to tell them they were at the wrong funeral. She'd begged her mom to put her in dance but her mom had said it was a waste of time and it was expensive. Who'd pay for it? She doubted her mom even knew what a plie? was. The woman gave her a quick hug before they moved off.

  Everyone had gone. She took a deep breath then turned to look at her mom's casket. The beautiful black onyx shone as though under a spotlight, draped with a white satin scarf and a large bouquet of flowers - daisies, irises, carnations, tiger lilies, pansies, roses and several others she didn't know. It exploded with colors - reds, oranges, yellows, purples - and reminded her of the hill in 'The Sound of Music', her mom's favorite movie.

  I think you would have loved it, Mom. Bailey pressed her hands together as though in prayer and pressed them against her lips for a minute. Her mind went on rapid fire.

  Were there enough flowers? Were they the right ones? Was that the right outfit for her Mom? Did it really matter what she wore? The blue one was her favorite. All those frills. The red, sleek dress was the one Bailey would have chosen. It was something else from the old days her mother wouldn't talk about. Her mom had obviously arranged for the blue outfit. The funeral home already had it. But who had given it to them? How long had her mom known she was dying? Who had paid for the funeral? What else hadn't she been told?

  She took in several calming breaths. When can I get out of here? When can I go back home? Her mom's stuff had to be gone through. Then she could go. Should I have found more people to come to this?

  The letter from her mom had made it clear she had not wanted her death advertised anywhere, definitely not in the newspaper. Putting up a small notice at the shop stating it was closed until further notice couldn't be construed as advertising. Only the people who had phoned her cell to find out when it would open again had been told her mom had died. Walking backward she took one last look before bowing her head. Pain radiated through her skull with the blunt force of being hit by a hammer. Stopping, she pressed her fingers into her temples and counted to ten.

  Maybe this'll all disappear and I'll wake up.

  She looked about. A bleak, bleary day greeted her along with a clear view of her mom's casket sitting over the open hole that was ready to swallow her. Bailey spun around. Her eyes lit on her car. Walking briskly, she moved towards it.

  CHAPTER SIX