Blue

by Sarah Jayne Carr

  As if on cue, Crenshaw entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. “Are there any questions or do you need a few more minutes before you head over to the cemetery?”

  My mother opened her mouth and then closed it again before dropping the envelope onto my lap. “No. No questions at this time. Thank you.”

  “All right. Funds will be dispersed when…”

  The rest of Crenshaw’s words were lost on me. I fought to stay in the present while he said his goodbyes to each of us. In a single file line and in silence, the four of us left the office and walked out toward the parking lot.

  Much like letting go of a forced smile, I wasn’t sure what facial expression was appropriate. Tom had left me a ridiculous sum of money, and the rest of my family was left to wonder why. No one could tell them but me. Damn him. The whole scenario made me want to throw up. “I’ll meet you across the street in a minute,” I said to Finn.

  “You sure? I can wait.” His eyes flicked up toward Elana. “Trust me, I don’t mind. It’d be a welcome excuse.”

  I nodded and swallowed. “I’m sure. You go.”

  “Okay.” He gave me a quick hug paired with a look of concern before he trailed after them.

  I stood near the breezeway linking two buildings and waited until they were out of sight before I fished the second envelope from my jacket. Fortunately, Daveigh missed that one when she pickpocketed me. It, too, had my name written on the front in shaky, blue ink. I pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. Tom’s handwriting was unmistakable.

  Blue,

  I want to take a moment of your time to…

  Eleven words. Eleven words were enough, perhaps too many. I stopped reading. You want to take a moment of my time, Tom? A moment? Last time I checked, that was indicative of “one”. Singular. What you took from me was well beyond that. The first six words alone were enough to make me vomit my breakfast on the sidewalk, and they caused my knees to knock together. I didn’t need to read the rest of the letter to know it was filled with crap. Tears stung my eyes and I tore it to shreds, refusing to stop until the pieces were each the size of confetti. I wanted no chance of it ever being put back together by anyone. My life was better off without any additional words or advice Tom Meyers had to offer.

  I took the handful of paper bits and threw them in a nearby garbage can, a pathetic attempt at the closure I’d never obtain. A few stray pieces caught the wind and danced into the parking lot. “Good riddance,” I muttered as I thrust my hands in my pockets before heading across the street to the cemetery.

  The rusty, wrought iron gates were wide open, spiked tops aimed toward the heavens. My shoes clicked against the cobblestone pathway as I made my way toward a gathering of people with more joining. The space wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it’d be. Saving grace. Maybe I could go through with the service, after all.

  I saw my mother, Daveigh, and Finn in the distance as I my eyes scanned the gently rolling hills. A sea of gray tombstones punctuated the lush green grass. My hands were sweaty as fear pulsed through my veins.

  Finn spotted me and changed directions, closing in on the distance between us with his brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m good. Promise.” I blinked rapidly.

  He let out a deep breath. “Okay, but don’t think I’m going to let this go. You’re still the worst liar in the world.”

  I gave him a quick hug. “I know.”

  “Come on. We need to find our seats soon. It’s about to start.”

  I let Finn lead me over the crest of the hill. Just when I thought I’d dug deep enough to find my courage, my feet forced me to a screeching halt. “Holy shit.” What I thought was initially a small grouping of people, revealed a surprise.

  “I know,” Finn replied. “Big turn out.”

  “I mean, I thought the whole town would come, but I really didn’t think there’d be this many…how many towns came?” My eyes honed in on where a sea of people continued to flock to where my mother stood. Camera men. Two local news crew. An entertainment channel spokesperson. Adam was right. It was going to be a circus, and I regretted my decision to attend.

  Finn leaned over and whispered into my ear, “For everything being okay, you sure are hanging onto my arm similar to how politicians cling to corruption.”

  I stifled my giggle at his attempt to lighten the mood.

  “There’s a smile. You gonna be all right for a few minutes? I need to find Scott before the shit show starts.”

  I nodded. “Go. Save him.”

  Finn headed down the hill and turned around, walking backward as he spoke, “The director said rows one and two are reserved for immediate family.”

  “Got it.” I took a breath and walked toward the dramatic setup. Seats with rounded tops were positioned in long rows, each draped in a white dressing and adorned with a single calla lily. Oversized silver-and-black bows countered the long, green stems. A blood red runner with flecks of gold glitter split the seating area into left and right hemispheres. It was the ostentatious path to where Tom’s coffin rested. Open casket. Why? No one had mentioned there’d be a viewing before the service. Until that point, seeing my step-father again hadn’t crossed my mind. I watched people stop to peer at him, stare at him, talk to him. An up-close and personal goodbye wasn’t going to happen by me. It took everything I had to convince my feet that walking forward to my seat was the correct action to take.

  I kept my head down and hurried to the front row, trying to draw little attention to myself. From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother soaking up the attention from a continuous line of people. She even smiled a few times. People hugged her, consoled her, and patted her on the shoulder. It was the SHAT-combo’s distant cousin; she ate it up. For believing a short while ago we were so similar, it seemed like such a polar opposite.

  A few minutes later, everyone was seated, and the classical music dwindled. The service was about to begin. In the second row, Finn and Scott were to my left, along with Daveigh and Beanbag. My mother was in front of us, seated alone, without her children by her side.

  A brunette woman wearing a black clergy robe with a bold cross stitched on either side approached the lectern. She adjusted the microphone and stared out at the sea of faces. “Today, we meet here, in Steele Falls, to pay tribute and honor the life of Tom Meyers. Also, we’re here to comfort those he was close to who’ve been saddened by his unexpected death.”

  Daveigh quietly sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I was frozen, memories pouring through me like a sieve; I felt like I was drowning and alone. Like last night’s bad dream came true.

  The clergywoman continued, “Tom was a spiritual person. It’s appropriate his celebration of life reflect him for what he was: A kindhearted and gentle family man who adored his wife and three children. Each of you will likely remember today differently, but I hope you can recall it as a special moment where you shared time and fond memories with the ones you care about.”

  You bet I’ll remember today differently. There was no way she’d know any better, but her words made me sick as I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands, fighting to maintain my stoic expression.

  I saw my mother glance back at me from the corner of her eye and frown. She closed in on the distance between us as much as she could. “The least you could do is show some remorse for your dead father. Eyes are upon us,” she hissed.

  “Step-father,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “You’re lucky we’re in public or else I’d slap you.” Her stare was ferocious. “I don’t care if you called him the Pope, a unicorn, or Santa Claus. That man was relevant in your life since you were a child.”

  I closed my eyes and smirked, afraid to open them again. “Relevant.” That was one fact she had right. Parents were supposed to be signif
icant, and mine were. Just not in the way I’d hoped. I bit my lip, using the pain to chain me in the present.

  Unexpectedly, the empty wooden chair to my right shifted and creaked as someone sat down next to me. I opened my eyes and turned my attention to who it was, caught off guard.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Adam murmured, facing forward. He was dressed in a classic black suit, and he smelled like a combination of pine trees and rain.

  My stomach lurched. There was no opportunity for me to combat the tears threatening the corners of my eyes. “You said you weren’t—”

  “I’m not letting you sit here on your own, Blue. No one should have to…” His voice trailed off as he pursed his lips.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  He didn’t modify his posture, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when he swallowed hard. “I know.”

  My ears piqued at the sound of the clergywoman mentioning my name, bringing my focus back to the funeral. “Despite their individual struggles with the situation, I’ve been told each of Tom’s children would like to come up and say a few words. Blue?”

  I glanced at Adam with a blank expression, almost seeking direction.

  “Now, it’s my turn to use your words.” His face had never been so serious. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  I couldn’t muster more than a faint whisper, “But I think I do.” It took three tries of my brain communicating for my feet to move before they finally complied. Each step was an undertaking as I made my way up the three stairs. The top half of the coffin was propped open, and I was able to see Tom’s face. His oversized nose. His receding hairline. His pockmarked complexion. His beady eyes behind closed lids. I was thankful they were shut. Seeing the foggy windows to his soul would’ve pushed me over the edge. The clergywoman patted me on the shoulder and nodded her encouragement before moving out of the way.

  Countless eyes and ears awaited my words. I cleared my throat, their murmurs quieting. A camera snapped a series of rapid shots from the left, and I jumped. It felt wrong knowing the event was being documented down to the most minute detail. Even worse, I was under the magnifying glass.

  Adrenaline tingled my tongue, and I glanced at Adam while pulling a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. He nodded slowly. I wasn’t sure if he blinked, his eyes remaining fixated on me. Even after two years of no contact and a few days of heated arguments, he was my reassurance and my security when I’d needed him most.

  Focus.

  My breath echoed in my ears as I fought for the courage to speak. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” The words were barely legible as the paper moved in my hands. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.”

  Focus.

  A flicker of memory took hold, an ember. It was one I’d kept locked up for so long. I prayed it wouldn’t catch fire and ignite. “He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me,” I paused as a single tear slid down my cheek, “in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.”

  My voice squeaked. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

  Focus.

  I swallowed that last word hard as debilitating anxiety set in, and I wondered if the people seated in front of me knew. Knew my secret. I was certain everyone’s eyes scrutinized me for the truth.

  Focus.

  “For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort…”

  I knew there was no comfort. It was ripped away long ago. I looked up, unable to go on without crumbling. My mother watched me, her lips pressed into the thinnest, tightest line possible.

  “I’m sorry.” I bolted down the steps near the lectern and sprinted across the grass toward a grouping of trees in the distance. The folded piece of paper with my words was lost and forgotten. One of the thick trunks concealed me from the crowd, and I leaned against the rough bark to keep from falling. It was useless. My knees buckled and I sank to the ground, burying my face in my hands.

  “Blue?” Adam’s voice was laced with concern as I heard his footsteps become louder.

  I felt him kneel next to me, but I couldn’t uncover my eyes. My only response was in shaking my head left and right.

  Adam didn’t ask if I was okay; he already knew the answer. I wasn’t. That was the first time I’d acknowledged it. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my shoulders heaved, an overdue cry of pained relief escaping my chest. His arms encompassed my frame while he held me tight. I didn’t care about the rest of the funeral. I didn’t care about my mother’s future reprimand. I didn’t care about the five million dollars. So much emotion fought to pour out of me at once, all I could do was let go.

  “Slow down. Breathe.” He rested his chin on top of my head. “Let it out.”

  I’m not sure how long I sat there with the shelter of his arms wrapped around me. He didn’t pressure me with a slew of questions or rush me to go back to the funeral. He didn’t shush me from crying or tell me a cliché ‘everything will be all right’. He held me, and that was what I needed. Damn him for always knowing what I needed. A little while later, maybe two minutes, maybe twenty, my sobs had subdued into a pattern of hitched breathing and hiccups.

  “Are you going to tell her?” He helped me to my feet.

  “No, the past is buried.” My eyes flicked over to the casket. “Or it’s about to be. Let’s just go back, so I can put this God-awful day behind me.”

  He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. “Okay.”

  By the time we arrived at the burial site, the funeral had ended. People were congregating in small clusters. I was surrounded by the monotony of black clothing and solemn faces while they quietly spoke amongst one another. A few looked at me as I passed by, but I kept my head down.

  My mother spotted me from fifty feet away and bee-lined to where I stood. Daveigh and Finn weren’t in sight. So much for safety in numbers. Alone with the momster. My lucky day.

  “I’m pleasantly surprised with your presentation,” she said. “The tears were a nice touch. It’s likely the only positive attribute from you being impregnated by that useless plastic surgeon.”

  Adam’s eyed my stomach, a flicker of disappointment on his face. “Cash got you pregnant?”

  The unsavory lie was too difficult to purge, so I answered with a nod.

  “Christ,” Adam muttered.

  “I’ll explain later,” I hissed at him.

  “Spare me the details on how it happened. I got the gist of the birds and the bees talk long ago.”

  “Not now.”

  Elana’s eyes flicked over to Adam, acknowledging him with a lethal glare. “Her choice in who she spread her legs for could’ve been worse, I suppose.”

  It was the lowest of blows.

  As always, the world revolved around my mother. Her image. Her wishes. Her victories. She didn’t ask how I was doing or if I were okay. Hell, she was under the impression I was pregnant, and…nothing. I bit my tongue from saying something I’d regret later on.

  The topic quickly curved back to the one I dreaded.

  “I still don’t understand why Tom left you significantly more money than the rest of us. Ridiculous.” She spoke with certainty. “Those extra zeros have to be a hellacious mistake.”

  “Extra zeros?” Adam asked, confused.

  “I don’t know why.” A few loose locks of hair shielded my face, and I was grateful for that. If there were a way for me to sink into the graveyard, I’d have already been six feet under with the rest of the corpses.

  “Well, there had to be a reason or someone should be fired for screwing up royally. He wouldn’t give you four million, nine hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars more than his own wife.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in dissatisfa
ction. As if I were a fly tangled in a spider web, my mother waited for the most opportune moment to strike and sink her fangs in.

  “What’s she talking about?” Adam asked.

  “I already said I don’t know.” I stomped my foot. “Can we drop this? Please?”

  My mother crossed her arms. “No. I don’t want to drop it. Think back, Blue. Hard.”

  I remained still, flashes of memories wrapping around my ribcage like gangly fingers taking hold of my soul. Gripping. Tearing. Puncturing. Shredding. Breathing was difficult as I tried to pace filling and emptying my lungs.

  “C’mon. Let’s get out of here,” Adam murmured, nudging my elbow. “Don’t let her badger you like this.”

  I looked around at the throng of people wallowing in post-funeral conversation; few had left. Escaping through the maze felt impossible. Drowning. Sinking. Suffocating. Just like my nightmare.

  “Use your brain,” she pressed on. “There has to be a semblance of a clue in there somewhere.”

  Adam was right. I should’ve left. It would’ve been best for everyone. Little did my mother know, my mind was the most terrifying place of all, history hidden under lock and key. The pressure of being at Tom’s funeral on top of holding my silence over the years was too much to bear. Like a twig, I finally snapped. “I have no fucking clue. Maybe it’s hush money. Maybe it’s remorse money.” My voice escalated to a yell, “Maybe it’s because your asshole of a husband tried to rape me!” I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  There was no going back. Elana Meyers had her answer.

  Our surroundings tanked to instant silence, people stealing an occasional glance our way to determine what the commotion was about. Elana flashed them a forced smile and a half-wave.

  Her attention turned toward me, her breathing slowing as she squinted. “What did you say?”

  Adam touched my elbow. “Come on. Let’s go.”