by Becky Durfee
“Unfortunately it’s not my husband’s well-being that I’m worried about,” Jenny confessed. “I can’t sit here and say that I have his best interest at heart. It’s my own I’m concerned with.”
“And that’s a problem because…”
Jenny laughed at being called out again. “I’m not used to doing things that are that selfish.”
“Insisting on being happy isn’t being selfish. It’s necessary. And it’s not like the minute you stop being a doormat you instantly become a bitch. There’s a whole big gray area between doormat and bitch. That’s the healthy place you should strive for.”
Jenny gave Elanor’s words a little thought. “But it’s true, actually. I guess I feel like if I make demands I am being a bitch.”
“I don’t think you could ever be a bitch,” Elanor surmised with a yawn. “You don’t have it in you. Your biggest concern going through life will be to make sure you stay out of that doormat range. I think your first inclination will always be to give too much, and you’re going to need to constantly remind yourself not to do that.”
“Well, I did just pull a stunt that might have been a little bitchy.”
“Atta girl,” Elanor said. “What did you do?”
Jenny explained the episode with the furniture. “So was that bitchy?” Jenny shook her head and added, “I can’t believe I’m using the word bitchy.”
“A little vulgarity is good for you,” Elanor said. “It cleans the soul. And, maybe what you did was a little bitchy, but you have to take into account the circumstances leading up to it. It’s not like you just randomly pulled that stunt. That would have been bitchy. But Greg himself admitted that he wouldn’t have agreed to it if you’d asked, so you were just doing what you needed to do.” Elanor nestled into her pillow and closed her eyes. “Besides, in what universe is donating furniture to a family who lost everything considered bitchy behavior? Not my universe.”
That notion hadn’t occurred to Jenny before. Her husband was making her feel bad about being charitable.
And he could only make her feel bad if she allowed him to.
While Jenny wanted to keep the conversation going, she had to recognize Elanor’s waning energy. “Why don’t you take a little nap, Miss Elanor. I won’t leave while you’re asleep. I’ll just hang out here and watch a little tube, unless the noise will keep you awake.”
“No, it won’t keep me awake,” she muttered sleepily. “Jackhammers to my head won’t keep me awake these days.”
“Okay, then,” Jenny said compassionately. “Sleep tight.”
Elanor fell asleep almost instantly, and Jenny made herself at home with the television. She propped her feet up in the recliner and flipped through the channels until she found a mindless comedy rerun. A little unsophisticated humor was just what the doctor ordered at that moment.
She found her mind drifting aimlessly during the commercials. Also feeling a little tired, Jenny closed her eyes only to find herself looking at a blurry rendition of the half-built house on Meadowbrook Road. Though the detail was difficult to see through the haze, the house looked a little further along than it had been during the vision of Steve’s shooting. Clearly this was a short time after.
A man paced around nervously in the front yard. Jenny floated in closer to get a better look at who it was. She strained with all her might, trying to get the best glimpse possible, finally deducing that she was looking at a frazzled Brian Larrabee.
A car pulled up to the desolate cul-de-sac, and a man wearing a hat emerged from the car carrying a bag. This second man approached Brian, greeting him with a handshake. Jenny tried desperately to determine who he was, but the image was too blurry.
The gentlemen exchanged words, but Jenny could hear only sound. The second man handed Brian a bag, which surely contained reward money for making Steve disappear. If only Jenny could make out who it was, she’d have her answer. She zoomed in closer, trying to make out the features of this mysterious second man. Finally, one trait made itself abundantly clear.
Black sideburns.
It was Arthur Larrabee. Jenny felt elated that she got her answer, but just as her spirit began to soar, another car pulled into the cul-de-sac.
A figure materialized from the car, also holding some sort of bag. The figure approached Brian, also handing over the bag, also giving Brian’s hand a shake. Jenny circled the trio, looking for some identifiable features on this third man. Knowing him better, she was more easily able to identify who he was.
Luther Whitby.
Jenny swirled through the air as she watched the three men interact for a few moments. Soon she saw Arthur and Luther drive away, leaving Brian by himself in the barren front yard. Brian dropped to his knees, holding his head in his hands, clearly remorseful for what he’d done.
Unlike at the scene at the lake, Jenny made no attempt to silently console the man on Meadowbrook Road. She merely watched, unfazed by his regret, feeling as if he deserved every ounce of guilt he was harboring. He, along with his heartless wealthy friends, had ruined everything for Steve in the name of greed and ignorance.
“Was the money really worth it?” Jenny wondered. She could think of nothing material that could have possibly justified what he’d done. “Prisoners,” she thought to herself. “Prisoners of a society where people measure themselves by what they have.”
The noise from the television once again became audible, signaling to Jenny the vision was over. She opened her eyes, finally content that she had solved the mystery once and for all. Which of the two assholes had paid off Brian Larrabee?
They both did.
When Elanor finally woke, Jenny disclosed the latest findings from her two most recent visions. Elanor nodded in response, signaling to Jenny that she understood, but still seemed too tired to react in any other way. She drifted off to sleep again, and after another hour Jenny decided it was best to leave. Unable to say goodbye in person, she left a note taped to Elanor’s bedrail.
“Good morning, sleepy head. I figured I’d let you sleep—it seems like you need it. Thanks for your advice today. I’ll definitely take it to heart.
“I won’t be able to come by tomorrow; I’m going to start setting up my classroom. I will be by the day after that, though. In the meantime, get some rest. Love, Jenny.”
In the car Jenny called Zack to inform him of her latest visions. He was at work, so the conversation was brief, but he concluded by saying, “So do you think this is really it? No more curve balls?”
“God I hope not,” she declared. “I don’t think I can take much more.”
Chapter 21
Jenny looked around her classroom approvingly, admiring the way the decorations were falling into place. The woman who had retired the year before left all of her materials behind, giving Jenny plenty to choose from. She decided to decorate each wall by subject; English and math were complete, and next was social studies. Jenny thumbed through pictures of presidents, maps of the explorers’ routes, and replicas of important documents, trying to determine which images were worthy of display.
This was Jenny’s favorite time of the year, academically speaking. She always loved those last few weeks of summer where she could come into the school and set up her classroom at her own pace. Once the actual school year started, things always became so hectic that the days went by in a blur. Late summer, however, was relaxing and peaceful.
Suddenly Jenny was overwhelmed by a flood of emotion. A rush of excitement generated through her, followed by a joy so intense it brought tears to her eyes. She felt warmth and happiness; her entire being was utterly consumed by love. After the initial surge, fear gripped Jenny when she realized what she’d just experienced.
Reunion.
Jenny immediately grabbed her purse and ran out of her classroom. She darted into her car and drove to Maple Estates as quickly as she could, but the drive seemed to take an eternity. Finally she arrived, rushing through the sliding double doors which had preceded so much happiness
in the past. This time, however, the doors invoked a miserable sense of dread.
Jenny approached the familiar desk in the lobby, attempting to be casual. “Hi, Stephanie,” she said to the woman behind the desk. “I’m here to see Elanor again.”
Stephanie’s face looked glum. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but Elanor passed away about an hour ago.”
While the news wasn’t a complete surprise, it was still difficult for Jenny to hear. Tears flooded the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Okay,” she said with a false sense of strength and acceptance. “Well, thank you very much.” She turned and immediately headed out to the parking lot, hoping her tears could wait until she reached the privacy of her car.
Once inside, the tears fell freely. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Elanor had been such a wonderful person--one of the most important figures in Jenny’s life. They had only known each other for a short time, but the bond was deep, and Elanor was the person Jenny felt closest to in this new town she called home. She was going to miss the visits--miss the chats.
Jenny was going to miss her friend.
Jenny walked slowly into the house where Greg was, not surprisingly, hard at work. He looked at her strangely as she approached him, sensing that something was terribly wrong. He didn’t ask in words, but his quizzical look invited an explanation.
“Well,” Jenny began solemnly, “it looks like you have your wife back. Elanor passed away this morning.”
“Oh,” Greg said. “I’m sorry.”
She knew he wasn’t.
She walked past him and sat in the solitary folding chair in her living room. The house’s emptiness was a tangible reminder of Elanor’s kindness, which Jenny would never be able to enjoy in person again. Elanor had provided Jenny with so much—insight, companionship, confidence—what was she going to do without her beloved friend?
She looked around the disheveled house, realizing that this was the only facet of her life now. Assuming Steve would cross over since he and Elanor had reunited, there would be no more of the contacts she’d grown to anticipate. Jenny’s life, which was briefly exciting and enjoyable, would once again seem unfulfilling. She was just Mrs. Greg Watkins again, home renovator and fourth grade teacher. She lowered her head into her hands and sobbed.
As Jenny walked through the entryway of the funeral home, she stopped at every photograph of Elanor on the series of display tables, studying each picture copiously. The earliest photos revealed an impeccably-dressed and happy child, sometimes alone, sometimes situated between her parents. Jenny glared intently at the man who ultimately caused so much pain to so many people, wishing silently to herself that he was burning in hell.
She noticed how beautiful Elanor’s mother had been, just as Elanor had described. She regarded the elegant house which she now owned in the background, standing majestically, unaware of its future decline. For a moment she was grateful for Greg’s desire to restore the structure to its original grandeur; she just wished he could have been a little more reasonable about where that restoration should fall on his priority list.
As Jenny continued along the tables, she watched Elanor age into a beautiful young woman. The pictures of a teenage Elanor were plentiful, yet Jenny noticed the absence of photographs from Elanor’s penniless days. The images resumed once more, but only when Elanor was already in the throes of the magazine. Most of the pictures featured Elanor hard at work, oblivious to the camera, making sure the magazine achieved her impossible standards.
One picture featured Elanor dressed elegantly, standing arm-in-arm with a man in a suit. Based on the age Elanor appeared to be in the picture, Jenny surmised the man had to be Mike. She studied him admirably, recognizing what a decent man he was, sympathizing with the fact that he unwittingly engaged in a competition he could never win. Jenny smiled at his image, hoping that wherever he was he could sense her approval.
The pictures progressed, moving from black-and-white to color, Elanor’s hair advancing from blond to gray. Jenny noticed that there were no pictures featuring Lake Wimsat, proving to her that the person who chose the pictures didn’t really know Elanor that well. Anyone who knew her intimately would have known to include such an image.
Jenny rounded the corner to where Elanor’s body was featured, surrounded by flowers, in the front of the room. Folding chairs served as pews; most were empty. Jenny didn’t recognize any of the people that were there, but she gathered from overheard conversations that the guests were mostly business associates and distant relatives. Jenny took a seat for the moment, not inspired to associate with these people who didn’t bother to visit Maple Estates. They probably eased their consciences by sending obligatory Christmas cards each year, but they also allowed a fascinating woman to die alone in a nursing home. I was her only true friend, Jenny thought. The only one who bothered to get to know the woman behind the magazine.
Jenny eventually gathered the courage to approach the casket, kneeling at Elanor’s side to say her final goodbye. She viewed the shell of the woman in front of her, lying peacefully with her fingers interlaced, looking nothing like the woman Jenny once knew. Her features appeared different, and her beautiful blue eyes were closed, masking the spark that was distinctly Elanor. The discrepancies made the task of paying her final respects easier; it almost seemed she was saying goodbye to a stranger.
“I know you’re happy,” Jenny whispered. “I know you are because I felt it. I know you’re with Steve now, where you belong. Your pain is over. You’re free of the body that was failing you. I know you are in a better place. But I will miss you.” Jenny wiped the tears from her eyes. “I feel selfish for being sad, but I am. You’ve come to mean so much to me. I’m going to be so lonely without you. I’ll miss all of our little talks. But I’ll take what you’ve taught me to heart, Miss Elanor. I promise I will. I’m a changed woman, thanks to you. You can take comfort in knowing the granddaughter-you-never-had now has a brighter future in front of her. I owe that all to you.” Jenny once again wiped her tears. “I truly do love you, Miss Elanor. I know I’ll see you again one day. Just behave yourself until I get there, okay?” Jenny smiled, taking one last look at the lifeless body that she knew no longer contained Elanor’s spirit. She stood up from the perch upon which she had knelt and once again sat alone in a folding chair.
She saw Nancy Carr come in and make small talk with some of the other guests. Eventually Nancy approached Jenny and had a brief conversation, consisting of conventional pleasantries. After a short time Nancy continued to circulate, once again leaving Jenny alone with her thoughts.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice was familiar. Jenny looked over her shoulder and exclaimed in surprise, “Zack! What are you doing here?”
Zack sat down next to Jenny. “I came to pay my respects,” he replied. “From what you said, she sounded like one hell of a lady.”
Jenny’s heart soared with gratitude and affinity. “Thank you,” she said, “That’s very sweet of you.”
“Well,” Zack added, “my family kind of ruined her life. It’s the least I can do.”
Jenny shook her head defensively. “Your family changed her path, certainly, but they didn’t ruin her life.”
Zack held his hand up apologetically. “I didn’t mean to imply her life was ruined…”
“I know,” Jenny said quickly. “I’m sorry. I just…” Jenny didn’t know how to finish her sentence. As tears filled her eyes again, she looked as Zack and said weakly, “She had a great life, you know?”
Zack nodded, looking uncomfortably down at his lap. “It sounds like it.” The silence that followed was awkward; Jenny remembered how Zack felt about tears. The notion caused her to smile.
“Well,” Zack began with a glance toward the casket, “I guess there’s no time like the present.” He stood up out of the chair and said, “Lightning isn’t going to strike me up there or anything, is it?”
“Why would it?” Jenny asked.
“I’m
a Larrabee. She may not want me anywhere near her.”
“Elanor Whitby of all people knows not to judge someone by their last name.”
Zack held up one finger. “True.” He headed up to the casket, kneeling down and lowering his head.
Jenny watched him up there, looking out of place in his suit, bidding farewell to a woman he’d never met. All in all, Jenny concluded, Zack was a good man. In so many ways he was the opposite of Greg. He was able to feel compassion for a stranger. He was willing to help, simply because it was the right thing to do. Most importantly, however, he bothered to come to the funeral. Her own husband couldn’t pry himself away from light fixtures in order to be there for her. Zack, a virtual stranger, cared enough to come.
Zack returned to his chair, looking remarkably unfazed. He held on to his tie as he sat back down, turning to Jenny. “I guess you were right. No lightning.”
“Of course not. She would have liked you,” Jenny remarked. “I’m sure of it.”
At that point the priest called everyone to attention so he could conduct the service. He was an articulate man, delivering an eloquent eulogy that would have made Elanor proud. Jenny felt satisfied that appropriate homage was paid to her dear friend, although she wished more people had been there to hear it.
Since Elanor’s wish was to be cremated, there were no additional services scheduled. Most guests left the funeral home in groups, talking casually about matters that didn’t concern Elanor. Zack and Jenny walked out side by side, although not a word was said between them.
Once they reached Jenny’s car, she looked up at Zack, squinting in the sunlight. “Thanks again for coming.” Her voice began to crack. “It means a lot to me.”
Zack cleared his throat and looked around. “Yeah, no problem.”
Jenny knew the tears made Zack uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it. As they flowed freely down her cheeks, she wiped them away with the back of her hand.