Dominion

by Greg F. Gifune

  “What am I supposed to do, Tom? Knock some desks over, slap a couple cops around maybe? What exactly would you like me to do?”

  The scowl deepened. Daniel had never spoken to him like that before. “Charlotte and I don’t live here, you do,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can be down at that station or talking with the press on a daily basis to make sure they do their jobs. Understand?”

  “Not a single bit of it,” Daniel answered just above a whisper.

  As his attention returned to the driveway and Jeannie’s house beyond, Daniel wondered if perhaps Thomas had been right that day without even realizing it. Maybe he’d failed to be sufficiently aware of his life with Lindsay. Maybe he should’ve already known the answers to these mysteries. Maybe he’d been too focused on his own pain and grief, and in doing so had let the truth elude him. Maybe now he’d pay the price for that.

  Daniel hadn’t heard from his former parents-in-law in quite some time.

  He wondered if he ever would.

  Before he’d even gotten out of the car, the front door to the house opened and his niece Aimee came bounding across the lawn. Dressed in a little blue dress with frilly white lace trim and her light blonde hair trailing behind her, she called out to him while still quite a distance away. “Hi, Uncle Danny! Happy Thanksgiving!”

  Daniel put his game face on and crouched down in time to receive her hug. “Hey, sweetheart, look how nice you look. How’s my girl?”

  “Good.” Aimee wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, so when he stood up he could carry her. As they started toward the house she kissed his cheek and smiled a nearly toothless grin.

  “Lost another one, huh?” Daniel shook his head playfully. “How many times have I told you to wear your mouth guard when you’re boxing?”

  Her laughter was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. “I wasn’t boxing.”

  “Professional wrestling?”

  “No!”

  “Have you been cage fighting again, young lady?”

  She laid her head against his chest. “Yup, that’s it.”

  “Did the tooth fairy come?”

  “I’m almost ten. I don’t believe in the tooth fairy anymore.”

  “There’s no tooth fairy?” Daniel stopped a foot from the door. “Are you serious?”

  Aimee laughed and playfully slapped his arm. He set her down and together they entered the house. A nice burst of warmth from a nearby woodstove mixed with the amazing aroma from the kitchen, greeted them as they stepped into a smartly furnished living room. Before he could say hello, Aimee ran ahead of him and announced his arrival. “Uncle Danny’s here!”

  As he removed his coat, Michelle appeared in the living room. She was a small woman of Puerto Rican descent, with raven black hair she wore very short, olive skin, a million-dollar smile and a lusty figure she managed to maintain beautifully on a tiny frame just over five feet tall. “There’s my favorite brother-in-law,” she said as they hugged. “Happy Thanksgiving, sugar, how are you?”

  He kissed her cheek and caught the scent of her cologne and a faint trace of makeup. “I’m OK, how’ve you been?”

  Before she could answer he heard his sister say, “You forgot the wine, didn’t you?”

  Daniel released Michelle and saw Jeannie crossing into the room with a wide smile, a cooking spoon in one hand and an oven mitt covering the other. A large rainbow colored apron he and Lindsay had gotten her a few years before was tied behind her neck and waist and already spattered with various stains.

  “Yeah,” he said guiltily. “Damn, I’m sorry. I can go back out and—”

  “She’s teasing,” Michelle told him. “I already stocked up yesterday.”

  “Yeah, because we knew you’d forget.” Jeannie threw her arms around her brother’s neck and gave him a long hug. “It’s good to see you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Good to see you, too.” He planted a kiss on her forehead then stepped back and looked at her, marveling at how healthy and happy she looked. Her mane of brown hair was worn up on this day, and she’d purchased a new pair of eyeglasses with thin red frames since he’d last seen her. Per usual her makeup was very light, as her girl-next-door looks rarely required it, and though a few subtle gray streaks had begun to appear throughout her chestnut hair, it looked good on her. Beneath the apron she was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt. “You’re looking good, Jeannie.”

  She touched the side of his face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m OK.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  A quick smile slipped free. “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t fool your big sister.” She arched an eyebrow and pointed the cooking spoon at him teasingly. “Never underestimate the power of a Jeannie.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, lot on my mind obviously.”

  “We’ll let you guys talk in a minute,” Michelle said, taking Aimee’s hand. “We need to get that table set.”

  “How’s Mom doing?” Daniel asked once Michelle and Aimee had left the room.

  “She’s hanging in there. Some days are better than others, you know how it is.”

  It had been nearly a month since Daniel had seen his mother, and with her condition that could sometimes mean substantial changes. “How’s she been lately?”

  “A little off, actually. Her level of confusion’s been escalating over the last couple days and she’s been moodier than usual.” Jeannie pushed her bottom lip out and blew a renegade strand of hair from her eyes. “I think she might have another U.T.I.” Daniel stared at her blankly. “Urinary tract infection,” she said. “They escalate her moods. I’m going to give Doctor Sanderson a call on Monday and see if I can get a sample run.”

  Daniel nodded sullenly.

  “Anything new on the job front?” she asked.

  “No, I plan to start looking around after the holidays.”

  “I should probably mention this.” Jeannie checked behind them to make certain she and Daniel were alone in the room. “Michelle and I have discussed Lindsay with Aimee as best we can, and of course she’s had a lot of questions, which we’ve also addressed. We’ve told her it’s not really appropriate to just blurt things out to you, but we didn’t want her to be unable to talk with you about her aunt either.”

  “No, of course not,” he agreed.

  “So just be warned, Aimee may ask you a question or two.”

  Jeannie and Michelle had decided Aimee was too young to attend either the wake or the funeral, so she had never truly experienced any of the steps involving Lindsay’s death. Instead, Aunt Lindsay had been alive and well and living with Uncle Daniel in Boston one day, and living in Heaven with Jesus the next. “It’s OK,” Daniel told her. “Aimee’s got every right to ask me anything she wants. I’ll answer honestly as I can.”

  “She may not say a word. I just wanted to warn you in case she does. She’s been asking to go to the grave, too. I told her Aunt Lindsay isn’t really there but it’s a place to pay respects, so she thought about it and decided she’d like to do that.”

  Daniel had only been to the gravesite once since her burial. He’d tried to return several times since but was never able to bring himself to make the turn into the cemetery. “Then I think you guys should take her.”

  “Obviously there’s a lot of confusion for her at this point, and she already has a steady supply of questions about her Nana. Mom’s behavior confuses Aimee enough, trust me. But now she seems to be fixated on death and people going to live in Heaven. She keeps asking if the rest of us are going to die, too. My God, at her age her biggest concern should be how long she’s going to ride her bike after school, and instead she has to sort out losing her aunt and coming to grips with her Nana’s illness, all the while not really being able to fully comprehend either one. It’s a lot for a little girl to handle.”

  “Hasn’t exactly been a banner year for any of us.”

&nb
sp; “She’s nine years old, Daniel.”

  He nodded. Once again he’d been wrapped up in his own sorrow and problems and had overlooked the things Jeannie, Michelle and Aimee dealt with on a daily basis. He could come and go as he pleased, see his mother in short intervals or field questions from his niece whenever he deemed it appropriate. His sister had none of those luxuries. “Aimee’s going to be fine. You guys have done a terrific job with her, she’s a great kid.”

  “Yeah, she is pretty terrific, isn’t she?” Jeannie smiled coyly, but he could tell she was only using that as a means of distracting him while she studied him a while, her eyes searching his. “Listen, if you need to talk, we can go for a walk after dinner, OK?”

  “Thanks.” Daniel took her arm and started toward the kitchen, determined to at least try to keep things light. “The bird smells good, when do we eat?”

  “About half an hour,” she said as they reached the kitchen. “Can I get you a glass of wine, or would you rather have a drink?”

  “Sure, a glass of wine sounds great, when you get a chance. Thanks.”

  The kitchen table and counters were in various stages of disarray, and Michelle and Aimee had begun gathering items with which to set the table in the dining room.

  As Jeannie returned to her cooking duties, Daniel wandered to the adjacent sunroom, an ample and open room with large greenhouse-style windows that offered a breathtaking view of the forest beyond their back yard.

  Amidst wicker patio furniture and numerous plants Michelle enjoyed growing and tending to, his mother Frances sat in a plush chair gazing out at the sunshine and forest. A nearby desktop computer sat shut off in the corner, a small portable stereo next to it playing Dean Martin, his mother’s favorite. She looked considerably older than her seventy-two years and appeared to have lost weight since the last time Daniel had seen her. She looked smaller, thinner and frailer than ever. It seemed every time he saw her, there was literally less of her. His mother had been an accountant at a manufacturing firm and had always been a meticulous dresser, but now wore baggy sweatpants, a pair of fuzzy slippers and a sweatshirt with an airbrushed drawing of puppies on it. Her hair, a stunning shade of silver, was combed back from her face in a severe fashion, and her skin looked a bit more sallow than usual. Ruben, a plump black cat that had been with them for years was sitting on a nearby couch and had just come awake. Daniel gave him a pat on the head then moved around to the side of his mother’s chair and crouched down next to her. “Hi Mom,” he said softly, “it’s Daniel.”

  Frances continued looking straight head. “I’m just waiting for the kids to come in.” Her tone was pleasant, familiar. “They’ve been out playing all afternoon and it’s almost time for dinner.” She moved her hands purposefully back and forth as if drying them with a towel only she could see.

  He tried to hold his emotions in check despite the fact that from all appearances his mother had no idea who he was.

  “I made marinara sauce with ziti and meatballs,” she said before he could answer her. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. There’ll be plenty. Daniel, my youngest, he doesn’t care for red sauce. I always have to make a little extra for him with butter instead. He’s such a finicky eater, my Daniel.”

  Daniel remembered exactly what she was talking about, and how when he was younger he hadn’t liked tomato sauce.

  “Those two can play out there for hours on end,” she said, still watching the forest. “It’s good for them, all that fresh air and sunshine. But they know it’s time to come in for dinner now, where are those little imps?”

  Daniel let his hand rest on hers. She felt cool and bony, a skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of skin that might disintegrate to dust if not handled carefully. “I’m right here, Mom,” he managed, desperate to find some trace of the intelligent and proud woman he’d known and loved his entire life. “It’s me, Daniel, your son.”

  She turned her head robotically, until her eyes met his. Once vibrant and full of life, they were now dull and distant, but very slowly a dawning came to them laced with even more confusion. “Daniel?”

  “Yes, it’s Daniel, Mom,” he said patiently, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  His mother looked at him intently, her expression revealing that she now recognized him but couldn’t quite figure out how he’d gotten there, or when. “Daniel,” she said again, a slight smile surfacing on her otherwise bewildered face.

  He kissed her hand then stood up in time to see Jeannie crossing from the kitchen with a glass of wine. She handed it to him and said, “Did you see who’s here, Mom? It’s Daniel.”

  “I know who it is,” Frances said, suddenly irritable.

  “Well of course you do.” Jeannie winked at her brother then returned to the kitchen.

  Frances smiled up at him. “Daniel,” she said, as if still not quite sure. “My Daniel, I—I’m so happy to see you.”

  “I’m happy to see you too, Mom. I’ve missed you.”

  “Oh, I’ve missed you too…so much.”

  “Jeannie’s making a big Thanksgiving dinner for everyone, hope you’re hungry.”

  Frances nodded then squinted and cocked her head in an attempt to see beyond him. “Where’s Lindsay?”

  He sipped his wine. “Lindsay passed away, Mom, she’s no longer with us. She’s been gone a few months now, remember?”

  Frances turned back to the windows. “My daughter-in-law’s not dead, what a terrible thing to say.”

  Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Hasn’t it turned out to be a beautiful day? It’s chilly but nice and sunny out. Isn’t it pretty?”

  “Foolishness,” she muttered. “Lindsay’s not dead. She’s a wonderful girl, always visiting me and making sure I’m all right. But you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  Daniel fondly remembered the day his mother had first met his future wife. She’d smiled the moment Lindsay had left the room and whispered, “I like her. I like her a lot.” They’d been close from that point forward.

  “Are you thirsty, Mom? Would you like me to get you something to drink?”

  “I just saw Lindsay yesterday,” she said.

  “Mom, she’s—”

  “I see her all the time.”

  For a moment Daniel entertained the idea that perhaps his mother, closer to death than most people, had somehow had a visitation from Lindsay in a spiritual sense. He’d read about such things, people seeing deceased loved ones not long before their own deaths. Although Jeannie had taught him to try and keep Frances focused as much on reality as possible when conversing with her, he decided to play along a moment. “Where do you see her, Mom?”

  “You know damn well where.”

  “Here, in the house?”

  She remained quiet.

  “Mom,” he pressed, “where do you see Lindsay?”

  Frances raised a finger and pointed at the computer in the corner. “There.”

  TWELVE

  Daniel’s heart plummeted, and a tremor fired through him so violently he nearly dropped his wineglass. “You see her in the computer?” He crouched down next to her again. “Is that what you mean? You see her in the computer?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes the damn thing isn’t even on.”

  “What does she say to you? When you see her, what does she say?”

  “Is it time to eat yet?”

  “Mom, tell me what Lindsay says to you.”

  “There’s a man. At least I think it’s a man. He’s looking for her.” She motioned him closer, as if to share a secret. “I don’t like him. He frightens me.”

  She’s alive. More than you know.

  “Can you show me?” Daniel put the wineglass on a low table next to her. “If we turn the computer on, can you show me, Mom?”

  With a great deal of effort Frances turned herself so she could look back at the kitchen. “Where’s Jeannie? Is it time to eat?”

  Daniel gently maneuvered her back to her original position. “I need you to show me.”

&nb
sp; His mother sat back but seemed distracted by the forest again. “I’m hungry.”

  “Who is this man, Mom? The man that’s looking for her, do you know him? Have you ever seen him before?”

  She looked at him, her face again a mask of confusion. “Where’s Jeannie?”

  “She’s in the kitchen just a few feet away,” he said, lowering his voice. “Dinner’s not ready yet. I need you to tell me about Lindsay, Mom.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  He positioned himself directly in front of her, and still in a crouch, put a hand on each of her shoulders. “Mother, listen to me. This is very important, you need to focus. Tell me about Lindsay, tell me about this man.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Why can’t you tell me about him?”

  “Because he scares me, he—he scares me and I don’t like him.” Her face contorted. “I think he might be the Devil.”

  A cold chill hit Daniel, but he kept his grip on her shoulders. “Did Lindsay tell you that? Mom, did she tell you that?” Frances began to weep. “Damn it, stop crying and answer me!”

  “What’s going on?”

  Daniel looked up, his trance broken, and saw Jeannie standing above them. He released his mother, kissed her cheek and stood up. A bit lightheaded, he took a few steps away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “He’s scaring me!” Frances cried. “I don’t like yelling, he’s yelling!”

  “It’s all right, Mom.” Jeannie moved to her quickly. “It’s all right, it’s all right.”

  Michelle joined them in the sunroom but kept a bit of distance, and beyond her in the kitchen Daniel saw Aimee. Neither seemed entirely sure what to do with themselves.

  Consoling their mother patiently, Jeannie said, “Daniel was just playing, Mom, he didn’t mean to upset you.” She glared at him. “Isn’t that right, Daniel?”