by Lori L. Otto
Always. Everywhere. Like our vows, and like the song Will wrote for her. I open up the program and read the lyrics of Affection. I’d only listened to the song as Damon sung it and am happy to have all the words here to reflect upon now.
We met her as a gust of wind
taking us by surprise,
taking our breath away,
taking some by the hand to lead them out of darkness.
Guarded, safe, in her sole possession,
Our affection was hers–to handle with care.
I cannot deny, in this final confession,
That I am affected; always, everywhere.
We knew her as a force of nature
wanting to know the world,
wanting to express herself,
wanting to share her love with only the lucky among us.
Guarded, safe, in her sole possession,
Our affection was hers–to handle with care.
I cannot deny, in this final confession,
That I am affected; always, everywhere.
We saw her as a shooting star
leaving many in wonderment,
leaving questions unanswered,
leaving this planet long before we were ready to let her go.
She was meant for this world in ways we will never understand.
Guarded, safe, in her sole possession,
Our affection was hers–to handle with care.
I cannot deny, in this final confession,
That I am affected; always, everywhere.
“And somehow, Will makes a better showing than I do and he’s not even here,” someone next to me mutters. I glance to the side to see my youngest brother standing there, flapping the end of his tie against the casket. “Fuck that guy,” he continues in jest. The sight of him today brings calm and comfort, and oddly enough, a little humor. I laugh at his opening lines to me.
“We’re in a church, Max,” I remind him, still chuckling, but wiping away tears with a handkerchief.
He had come up to the hospital once since I kicked him out on the day she died, but a pane of glass separated us, and I made no effort to talk to him. I was still too angry at him then.
“What does Coley say?” he asks.
“All words are created equal in God’s eyes,” I respond with the beginning of a quote Trey’s fiancée often rattled off, still smiling.
“Except around children and the Hollands,” we both say together. Falling into an embrace, we laugh together, but before we let go, I can tell my little brother has started crying.
“It’s okay, Mascot,” I whisper softly, holding him tighter.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Jon. I should have been there for you. I should have been better for her. I know I fucked up.”
“Max?” I push him away to look into his eyes. “We’re all going to have to live with regrets of what we should have done differently, okay?” He nods, tears streaming down his face. “Some of them will have us wondering for the rest of our lives if we could have saved her. And others?” I point into his chest. “Others are just changes you can make going forward. Be better now. Be the person she wanted you to be. Be the man she thought you were when we decided you’d be one of Luca’s godparents.”
“I will. I am,” he says. “I’ll stop lying.” He stares hard at me and nods his head. “I shouldn’t have been lying to you. It’s not who I am. I want to live up to every idea she had of me. I am where I am and who I am because she came into our lives, Jon. I recognize this. I owe it to her.”
“No. You owe it to yourself. You never owed her anything. I mean, me, maybe, but her?”
Max smiles. “That’s probably true.”
“You don’t owe me anything, either. But I want you to be well, Max. I don’t want you to follow in the footsteps of your dad or of Mom–her bad habits. I want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ll be on your ass to make sure you’re working toward that. Got it?”
He nods.
“I love you, Mascot. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.”
“No, I deserved it. I’ve gone over that night in my head many times. Callen shouldn’t have let me go in the first place–no, I should have known better than to go. I can’t blame him. You were right to kick me out.”
“Still. I don’t like how it all went down. Life is too short. We should never part ways like that, you know?”
“Yeah.” We hug one another again. “The service was perfect… but where’s Will?”
“At the hospital with Luca.”
“Doing things a godfather should be doing?” he asks.
“Nah, it’s not like that. Let’s just call it training to be a new dad. He needs it anyway… and he said he couldn’t see her like this. You know how they were.”
“Yeah. I don’t think he ever really got over his crush.”
I shake my head and smile. “Probably not. Who didn’t love her, though?”
He turns around and encourages me to do the same. For the first time since I came in, I see the church, packed to capacity. People are lining the walls on the sides and in the back–and this was a private ceremony for friends and family, by invitation only. “Everyone did.”
A woman approaches us and asks us to return to our seats in the front row. Apparently, all of these people want to give their condolences to us.
Over the next hour and a half, some sort of defense mechanism kicks in, making me numb to all the consoling looks and kind words so I don’t spend the entire afternoon crying. It helps that the girls are restless and require my occasional attention. More than once, I consider leaving with them. It must be hard for them–confusing, even–dealing with the loss of their mother and the unfamiliarity of hundreds of strangers, wanting to share random stories with them.
After everyone else has left the chapel, we all discuss meeting back at our apartment for a meal. It’s already been arranged by Shea and her restaurant staff. Apprehensive as I am, I realize it’s the best way to ease back into the home I’d been afraid to go back to because she wouldn’t be there anymore–with the family that loves us unconditionally and knows what’s best for us.
I call Will before we leave and ask him to join us, knowing it’s the time of day when Luca puts in a good four hours of sleep.
As the limo turns onto our street, a hush comes over the car. Not only is our entire side of the block lined with flowers, but a crowd is gathered on the sidewalk. There must be hundreds of people, many with signs with Livvy’s name and pictures.
“Daddy, look,” Willow says. “More flowers.”
Jack and Emi had told me their home had been inundated with visitors and gifts in the days following her death; still, I didn’t expect this today.
At the entrance of our building, two security officers stand alert, keeping the path clear for residents. It’s an obstacle course to get around the thousands of bouquets, though. The night doorman greets us at the curb, since Leon was in attendance at the funeral today. Jack and Emi get out first, followed by Edie, Willow and Shea. I’m the last to emerge, taking my time, not knowing if I’m ready to be in the public eye already. I can hear people gasp and sigh the second I step out. I can feel their pity.
I wave anyway, appreciating those that came to pay their respects, although I know many just came to gawk at me and my family. We take a few minutes to look at the flowers and cards left in the clearing of the entrance. Emi and Shea encourage my daughters to pick a few of their favorites to take inside. The question occurs to me: What do I do with the rest of them? Is that my responsibility?
Overwhelmed, I’m the first inside the building. Another attendant approaches me with a ridiculous display of flowers–it’s completely over the top and inappropriate for the occasion.
“Mr. Scott, these came for you. I was directed to hand-deliver them to you.”
“Thank you.” I set them on the concierge counter and look at the card, wondering who would send such a gift. Someone who doesn’t know our tastes, o
bviously.
Dear Jon–My most sincere condolences. The country has lost one of its most beautiful assets. It was such a great pleasure to have met her. Harris Gluck.
No mention of her cultural significance, or of the contributions she made to so many communities in her young life. He didn’t bring up the fact that she was part of a movement that began the beautification of many older cities in our country. He had no idea of the great influence she had on millions of young artists across the globe.
He only mentioned her physical beauty. It’s so much like that misogynistic pig. I’m grateful he didn’t win the presidential election. I can remember the day he came to a grand opening of a new office space downtown for a building my company designed. We’d invited all the tenants and many of the top employers in the state–Gluck being one of them. I couldn’t believe how he’d embraced Livvy as if they were familiar with one another, even though it was the first time they’d met. He even attempted to kiss her–on the lips–but being who she was, she put her shoulder between them and fought her way out of his grasp. A fighter. She proceeded to give me the evil eye for a good half hour. I probably should have done something to protect her better, but–honestly–I was in shock by the whole thing.
I crumple up the card and give it back to the man who handed me the outrageous display. “Please arrange to deliver these to the 181st Street Women’s Shelter. No card, no signature. And for God’s sake, don’t let anyone know that Gluck had anything to do with it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Harris Gluck?” Jack asks. I nod.
“He has some nerve,” Emi adds.
“No shit,” I say, then catch myself. “Sorry, girls. I owe you, okay? I don’t have any cash on me.”
“Daddy, who is Harris Gluck?” Willow asks as we get into the elevator.
“He was that clown that ran against Parker for president. The one that Coley and your uncles Max and Trey used to protest. Remember?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Why didn’t you like the flowers?”
“Because I don’t like him. Nobody here does, baby. He has… no integrity… horrible character… zero respect for women.”
“Why? What’s not to respect about women?”
“Exactly,” Shea says.
“What’s protest?” Willow continues.
“It’s one way to show you disagree with people. You have the right to publicly protest,” Emi says.
“So, I could protest my bedtime? Because it’s too early at Memi and Granddaddy’s.”
“I want to, too!” Edie chimes in.
I chuckle, guiding them off the elevator and into our apartment, where everyone else has already arrived and is getting comfortable. “Girls, you can’t protest Memi and Granddaddy. You can only protest bad people until you turn… twenty-one,” I say, making up a rule. “Emi and Jack certainly don’t qualify. They just have slightly different rules–and for good reason, I’m sure.”
My in-laws both smile at me. “Thank you,” Jack says. “When they’re twenty-one, bedtime will be at one A.M., at the earliest.”
“That’s awesome!” Willow celebrates.
“No, it’s not,” my oldest argues. “When we’re twenty-one, we can do what we want, dum-dum.”
“I’m not a dum-dum! I just didn’t know! I’m smarter than you! Did you know that Mercury–”
“I don’t care!” Edie yells over her sister. “Nobody cares!”
“Girls!” I shout to get their attention, startling nearly everyone in the apartment in the process. I lower my voice to a whisper. “Upstairs to change clothes.”
“Daddy,” Willow says sweetly, taking my hand at the bottom of the steps, “did the president send us flowers?”
“He did, sweetie. They were at the funeral today. They were the white lilies at the end.”
“Those were really pretty.”
I comb my fingers through her hair and nod.
The girls, Shea and I are the only ones to ascend to the second story of the apartment. Everyone seems to respect that as a sacred space, the more intimate space of our bedrooms. Shea assists Edie and Willow as they find other outfits to wear.
I venture through the closed door of the room I shared with Livvy, making sure I shut and lock it once I’m inside. It still smells like her in here–and nothing has changed in the room since that night.
Other family members have been here since then and have made the conscious decision to leave things as they were–and I’m grateful.
The bed is still unmade, the indentation of her head in the pillow, still there. A glass of water is half full on the night stand next to where she slept. I pick it up to see the mark her lips left there, moistened with peppermint balm that she often wore at night. Like half a kiss, preserved. Carrying it with me to the master bathroom, I empty out the liquid in the sink, but tuck the glass itself high on a shelf behind a pair of shoes I hardly wear.
On another day, when the home is empty, I’ll wrap the glass up in paper and put it in a box to protect it from dust and general carelessness. Today, I just want to know it’s safe.
When I turn around, I’m faced with a closet full of her clothes. I stare at them for a solid five minutes, remembering how beautiful she was wearing different items. Some moments, I smile; other times, I cry. This is the life I can expect to live in the coming weeks and months.
Out of the corner of my eye, I jump at the sight of her, turning quickly in shock and disbelief. A coatrack stands erect in the corner, just as it always has, with Livvy’s brown robe hanging from one of the top hooks. It’s the color of her hair. Reality is shrouded in disappointment and despair. It takes a few moments to catch my breath.
Eventually, I change out of my suit and into some jeans. Instead of putting on one of my standard Columbia t-shirts, I find a Yale one that Livvy had bought me a few years ago for a volunteer event we did at her alma mater. I didn’t want to wear it that day, even though it was the required uniform. Today, I vow to get more Yale clothes to represent the school she loved, too.
Multiple hands knock on the door to my room, and someone tries to jiggle the knob. Once fully dressed, I open the door to find my daughters waiting on the other side.
“Are you coming out, Daddy?” Edie asks, her hair still in a ponytail with the ribbon from Livvy’s shoe, even though they’ve both changed into summery outfits. Willow is wearing her ribbon as a headband now. She looks precious, and their eager looks bring a smile to my face.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Can we go inside first?” Willow asks.
“There’s nothing to see in here,” I tell them, “but if you’d like.” I open the door wide for them both.
Edie walks over to where Livvy slept and crawls onto the bed. A part of me wants to stop her, but I don’t. She curls up into a fetal position and lies her head down on the pillow. “I miss her.”
“Me, too.”
“I know, girls. We’re all going to feel that a lot… for a while. But we’ve got each other, and that’s how we’ll get through it.”
“Can we sleep in here with you tonight?” my oldest asks.
“Well, bunny, I’m staying at the hospital tonight. Luca still needs me.”
Sadness spreads across Willow’s face as she moves her arms to cross her chest. “It’s not fair.”
“We need you, too,” Edie tells me bluntly. I look back and forth between the two of them, seeing the truth in their eyes. I nod my head, realizing this for the first time.
“You know what? Tonight, you two are coming with me to the hospital. There’s a great bed for you guys, and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s just like a hotel. Then we’ll all be together. And tomorrow night? Well, we’ll figure that out tomorrow.”
“Compromise!” Willow says, happily throwing her arms into the air. I laugh at her response.
“Can we stay up and watch movies?” Edie asks.
“We’ll see how good Luca’s sleeping… but maybe. If not tonight, we’ll do that the fir
st night we come back here. I promise.”
“Okay.” I reach for her hand to help her off the bed. “Daddy, can I have Mama’s pillow?”
I start to tell her yes but change my mind. “No. You’ve got a pillow. Too many pillows, actually.”
“But this one smells like her.”
“I know.” I raise my eyebrows and smile at her. Daddy needs that.
I can’t say why, but I feel lighter once I get downstairs. Everyone is talking and snacking on catered appetizers. Soft music is playing in the background. All the people I love are here–except for Luca, who Will has assured me is sound asleep and being watched after by the nurses–and, of course, Liv.
When I look around, I notice everyone has changed into more comfortable attire except for Jack. He’s still got on his slacks, a dress shirt and a tie, but it’s not out of character for him to be dressed that way, so I don’t know if he’s comfortable or not.
“Jack, I’ve got some other shirts upstairs.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Jon. Thank you.” He glances down. “I like yours.”
“Thanks. Can I refill your glass?”
“Sure.” His smile is subtle as I take the tumbler from him. Emi follows me to our bar.
“Let me do that, Jon. Go relax.”
“You go relax,” I argue, pouring the scotch we have on hand for Livvy’s father into his glass and adding a fresh ice cube. “This is just as bad a day for you both.”
“Then let someone else do this.”
“I’m okay. Really.” She gives me a hug. “How are you holding up?”
“I feel strangely unburdened today.”
“I know what you mean. I guess the funeral was one… dreadful… milestone that we’ve all survived.” I swallow hard, regretting my word choice, but she squeezes my hand and nods.
“If you help me get some things together for the girls, we can take them tonight.”