“You would think so.” Doug chuckles. “I think I’m a little all over the place with it, but I’m working on it. And, just so you know, I’m grateful the aunts took me in when my parents died. I don’t know where else I would have gone.”
“I know the gratitude, too,” I say. Those of us who are raised by relatives are the almost lost ones. We owe so much to those who took us in when they didn’t have to do anything. “And the guilt.”
“Yeah,” Doug says.
I can’t help but put myself in Doug’s place. What would I have done if none of the aunts had wanted me? My aunt Inga never made me feel unwelcome, but I was always aware that I might be holding up her life in some way. Aunt Inga was still young when she took me in. I wondered if she would have gone and done something different than work for Aunt Ruth if she didn’t have me to worry over. I owe Aunt Inga big-time for all she did for me. And I wasn’t even part of her family, not in the way Elaine and the other cousins were.
Most people would agree a mother or father is required to take care of their child; an aunt really doesn’t need to care for a niece or nephew. And, in my case, I’m a half niece, so there was even less obligation. I have always wanted Aunt Inga to see me at my best just so she knows she didn’t waste her time for all those years.
“It must have been tough to lose both of your parents,” I say to Doug. I am feeling it’s okay if we have some bond between us after all, so I tell him a little of my story. “My dad died, but my mother just moved to Las Vegas and left me with Aunt Inga.”
“That had to be hard, too,” Doug says. “It took me a long time to get over feeling bad because I was an orphan. As long as I had the aunts, though, I had somebody.”
“Yeah.” I know what he means, but I don’t want him to think I’m too pathetic so I add, “My mother would have taken me to live with her if she had room for me in Vegas.”
“If my parents had lived, I would have stayed in a closet just to be with them. So you’re lucky. You get to see your mother. At least, I assume you do.”
“Yeah, I do.” I haven’t felt lucky about that for a long time.
“Anyway, I have been looking at myself in the mirror lately and wishing I was a better person,” Doug says. “I might have issues, but that’s no reason to let other people down. That goes double for last week. I shouldn’t have split on you like I did. I’m really very sorry.”
Okay, so I guess I have to forgive him. That doesn’t mean I’m going all gooey over him or anything, it just means that fair is fair. He spilled his problems and we talked. He apologized. It’s time for me to accept his apology—almost.
“Yeah, well, I just want to say I would never pressure some guy to have a relationship with me.” I want to get this into the conversation before Doug apologizes for everything under the sun. “I know I needed a date. But I never thought that meant anything more than that you were doing me a favor. That’s all.”
“Like I’ve said, it didn’t turn out to be much of a favor.”
“Just so you know that I know there’s no commitment involved. We’re both commitment free.”
I’m trying to be as clear here as possible.
“It’s not that kind of commitment that was giving me a problem,” he says and his voice is soft. “If I’d thought about it for two seconds, I would have known it’s the look-at-my-life kind of commitment that’s bothering me. That’s what’s been bothering me for months. I think that’s why your aunt pushed my buttons so easy. Not that it’s her fault. She seems like a nice lady.”
“I haven’t heard many people call Aunt Ruth nice. Effective maybe. Nice no.”
Doug laughs. “She just comes on a little strong. She reminds me of one of my aunts. I think I could handle her okay next time.”
Well, that sounds promising. I don’t want to rush in and ask if he’ll be my date for the rehearsal dinner and wedding yet, but it is promising. “One good thing about Aunt Ruth is that she always puts out wonderful food at her parties. She never skimps on what she serves. Did you get some of those crab-stuffed mushrooms before you left?”
“I’m afraid I just left when I left.”
I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better to know that Doug didn’t make a stop at the buffet table on his way out of Elaine’s party. I would rather be left standing because of honest issues instead of a craving for crab appetizers. “I hear Aunt Ruth is planning prime rib and lobster for the rehearsal dinner.”
I’m being optimistic here and assuming there’ll be a place to have the rehearsal dinner. Finding a place for a sit-down catered dinner won’t be easy, but I’m sure Aunt Ruth will find it.
Doug whistles. “Prime rib and lobster. If you need a date for that one, I’m your man. That is, if you still want me to go with you after the last time. I promise I won’t get cold feet. I mean, if you need a date—I wasn’t sure after Cassie talked to me later if you needed a date or not.”
The tension in my shoulders eases. “Oh, I need one. And thanks. I don’t know where the dinner will be yet, but I appreciate the offer.”
“No problem. In fact, I need someone to go someplace with me and I thought of you so I’m really glad you called,” Doug says.
“Turnabout is fair play. I’ll even put up with your Aunt Ruth—the one who you mentioned.” Now see, this is how it should be between Doug and me. We can both help each other out, especially now that we have the aunt thing between us. I know being raised by an aunt has left me a little insecure and I’m thinking Doug has had the same feelings, especially if he went from house to house trailing a suitcase behind him. At least I had the same closet for all those years.
“My aunt lives in Texas now so it’s not about her, but you might not want to do this anyway,” he says.
There’s enough hesitancy in his voice to make me stop and think. Okay, so what could it be? Something south of the border? Visiting really sick people who are contagious?
The bus I am on has just pulled into a stop and is letting a couple of teenagers off. My stop will be here soon.
“Is it legal?” I finally ask. “I don’t do nonlegal.”
“Me, neither. This is a little strange, but definitely legal.”
I can hear some bus noises on his side of the conversation so I give up my theory that he is driving himself to work. He’s bussing it the same way I am, which makes me like him even better. I always like people who don’t put on airs and it’s hard to put on airs on a Hollywood Metro bus. Especially because, if you did, people would just think you were practicing a movie role so it wouldn’t really do you any good since they would already know that you’re not one of the big stars since you’re riding the bus and no one even recognizes you.
“I don’t have to dig a pit and cook a stuffed pig or anything like that, do I?” I ask. “I’m not a very good cook.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Well, then, if I don’t have to dig any pits and there’s no Aunt Ruth, how bad can it be?”
Doug pauses and then he almost whispers. “I need someone to go back to that rally with me.”
I can picture him looking around the bus to make sure no one is listening to him, just as I’m looking now before I talk. “You mean that Billy Graham thing?”
“Well, Billy Graham is not the guy speaking, but yeah, my aunt said it’s like a Billy Graham thing.”
Doug’s voice slowly got back to normal.
“Your aunt’s going? The one who went with you before?” I ask more as a stalling thing than because I have any reason to ask. Of course, his aunt is going if Doug is going. She’s probably the reason he’s going. Doug probably feels the same need I have to make his own aunt glad she’d spent the effort to help raise him rather than let him go into some foster home. Maybe he even gets extra credit if he drags someone else along with him.
“No, she’s gone back to San Diego. She doesn’t know I’m going to the place again.”
I notice the girl in front of me has removed her earphones so
I lower my voice. “Isn’t the reason for going to make your aunt happy? You’ll get extra points if she actually sees you there and doesn’t just hear you say that you’ve gone.”
I’ve got to admit the thought of going with Doug to some religious rally makes me wish it was something involving a stuffed pig instead. Doug may be comfortable at some rally, but I would not be. I’ve gone many times to the same church in Blythe, but God and I have an understanding in that place. I leave Him alone and He leaves me alone. I don’t know what He would think if I showed up at a rally in the Hollywood Bowl. That’s a little—well, public—don’t you think?
Doug says, “I’m not going there to get points with my aunt.”
Okay, so now he’s really making me nervous.
“Well, I don’t think you need a date for a rally,” I say, mentally inching myself away from the invitation. “Not if it’s anything like church.”
“I don’t know if it’s like church. I’ve never been to church.”
“Well, trust me, I’ve gone to church tons of times and you don’t need a date for the rally.”
“Maybe not, but I need a friend.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that so I clear my throat.
He keeps talking. “It’s tonight. I was going to call you later today. I didn’t want to ask too far ahead of time because I didn’t want you to worry about going.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Good. I thought you might be a little afraid to go to something like that. Some people are.”
“I’m not afraid. Well, maybe a little. But not like walking into a deserted house in the dark scared.”
I hope I’m telling Doug the truth on this one. I tell myself I’m not afraid really. I might be very, very nervous. But that’s different, isn’t it?
“So you’ll go?” Doug says. “I could meet up with you at the coffee shop after work and we could have something to eat before the rally.”
I take a deep breath and remind myself that he is the only date I am likely to get for Elaine’s wedding. “Sure, that works.”
The deep breath helps. Either that or it completely rattles my brain because it suddenly occurs to me that going to that rally might be just the thing I need to do. Unlike Doug, I’d be willing to use this one for aunt approval. Maybe Aunt Inga will be so pleased with me for going to something like that on my own that she won’t be quite so disappointed when I tell her that we have to look for another location for Elaine’s wedding.
“Is this like an anthropology interest—this going back to the rally again?” I say to Doug. If I can understand why he’s going, I might be better with it all. “Do you want me to take pictures? Do they have any strange rituals they do?”
I am not saying that some people wouldn’t go to a rally like this just because they wanted to go. But those are mostly people who go to church all the time. Doug doesn’t have anything to do with a church.
“Well,” he says, “they pass around a big basket and people put money in it. That’s kind of primitive. I suppose. I was surprised there were no debit cards or anything. Just checks and cash. I even saw a hundred-dollar bill.”
“You do know you can’t reach in and take money out when the basket comes by,” I say. “That’s why they always have big guys passing the basket around. They keep watch over it.”
“I know the rules. I know you can’t take money out of the basket.”
“Good, because the passing-for-money thing is something all churches do.”
We’re both quiet a minute before Doug talks again. “I just seem to keep thinking about what the guy said. I can’t get it all out of my head. Finally, I decided the only thing to do is to go back and make sure I heard him right.”
“So, it’s sort of a fact-finding thing?”
Doug nods. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I’ll take notes for you then.” This could work. I’d willingly take notes at a dozen rallies to have a date for Elaine’s wedding. Besides, Doug has already met the family so Aunt Ruth won’t surprise him again. Plus, there’s something to be said for continuity when it comes to fake boyfriends. It makes them more believable in the part.
“Notes are good. That way I can just listen,” Doug says.
“Well, then I’ll see you after work at the coffee shop.”
The bus is pulling to a stop again and this one is mine. After Doug says goodbye, I stand up to get off.
I wait until I am out of the bus to put my cell phone back in its holder and I see that I got a message while I was talking to Doug. I press the button and hear Aunt Inga’s voice reminding me that she will be praying all morning that Mr. Z will answer our prayers.
I don’t like to think of Aunt Inga praying all morning about anything. It is too stressful. So I call her back. Aunt Inga doesn’t answer so I leave a message on her machine telling her I haven’t spoke to Mr. Z yet but that I’m going to a Billy Graham kind of a rally tonight. I also mention that if we can’t use the chapel at where I work, there are a lot of places to get married. People even have weddings at the beach, I say. Or parks. There are a lot of public parks. I want to prepare her for the disappointment I know is coming.
I’m wearing my usual black suit to the Big M—the suit Mr. Z had made for me—so it’s no surprise that no one pays any attention to me when I walk away from the bus step. To attract attention in Hollywood you have to be wearing a nail through your head or snakeskin pants with the snake’s fangs dangling from your back pocket. You see some of the weirdest people on the streets around here. I’ve got to admit though that I like the place.
You would understand why I like it around here if you had spent your whole life in a place like Blythe where nothing strange ever happens. Well, except for the time that my cousin Jerry drank so much grape juice that his eyeballs started turning blue, but that’s another story. The aunts said it couldn’t happen, but we cousins saw it and we remain convinced to this day. I’m always careful not to drink too much grape juice.
You know, I wonder why none of the other cousins have moved into the Los Angeles area. I think Jerry would be a natural for Hollywood. I guess he’s not so adventurous anymore. He has a job as a car mechanic and he seems happy enough to stay in Blythe with all of his brothers and turn wheelies in the grocery store parking lots after dark on the weekends.
I stop to look at the Big M when I am halfway up the walk to the front door. I always stop about here and just look at the building. I like the roughness of the stone exterior. After a cold night, there’s a look of dampness to the stone that makes me think of drawbridges and castles and the English moors. I suppose it was all those historical romances I read in high school. I used to love those dark, brooding heroes that walked around in the fog and frowned at anyone who came too close.
Today I take a minute to admire the stone and breathe in the slight scent of the roses that are just inside the courtyard. The chapel is built in a French Gothic style. Miss Billings told me that the place was made out of native California stone in 1915 and was a regular church for many years before Mr. Z bought it in the 1980s and turned it into a mortuary.
I get asked about the building a lot when I’m working there so I’ve learned a few dates. It has taken me a while to figure out why I like the place so much. I finally decided it is because the whole building looks as though it’s reaching for the sky. There is a thin steeple that shoots out from the top, but it’s more than that. The whole building has got to be over a hundred feet tall and the arches all come to points that lead up to that steeple. Inside—you can’t see it from here—there is a long, narrow stained glass window showing Jesus holding a lamb in one arm and a shepherd’s crook in the other.
If you sit on the pews in the chapel, your eyes are automatically drawn to that stained glass figure. I didn’t notice when I first saw it that the lamb is sleeping, but now my eyes always come to rest on the peaceful face of the lamb. It’s not a very exciting stained glass window, but I’m sure it gives much c
omfort to the bereaved. It comforts me.
Somehow, though, I can’t see Elaine standing under that lamb and saying her “I do’s” to her dentist. If Aunt Ruth has a problem with glass cups being too common, she would be real unhappy with a farm animal staring down at Elaine’s nuptials.
I feel a sudden urge to protect that lamb from Aunt Ruth’s disdain. If Elaine were to get married in this chapel, would Aunt Ruth demand more important artwork? Maybe she’d drape the stained glass window with some orange silk material. It can be done. Mr. Z has a drape that he uses to go over the stained glass picture if the bereaved request it. Of course, that drape is in black, but Aunt Ruth could add some ribbons or something to make it more bridal.
The Big M makes the lamb the focal part of some funerals, especially if there are children in the family of the bereaved. Miss Billings has a box of stuffed toy lambs that she will give to children to hug during the services, too. Once I asked her about the lambs and she reminded me that the Big M is in Hollywood and people expect a few extra touches. She’s right, you know. From what I’ve seen, people do feel their funerals can be more unusual here.
Now that I am inside, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
The front doors of the chapel are made out of a dark heavy wood, but the inner doors leading to the sanctuary are covered with Italian leather that has mellowed over the years. The leather has been nailed to the thick doors with old brass upholstery tacks. There are brass sconces along the wall of the foyer that are fitted with low-watt electrical bulbs so that they almost look like candles in the dark. The whole foyer makes me think of medieval monks.
I shake my head. Monks and lambs are definitely not Elaine’s style.
Then I remember the roses. What bride wouldn’t like roses?
The roses in the courtyard are a little scraggly since they’re dormant this time of year. Miss Billings says they need to be cut back for winter, but she doesn’t do them all at once. It’s warm enough in Southern California so that Miss Billings finds a way to have a few roses present no matter what time of year it is.
Going to the Chapel Page 7