by Leslie Pike
If these are the final hours, my prayers beg for a gentle journey. The gifts she brought to my life deserve reward in her dark hour. Could she just fall asleep and when her eyes open be in Paradise? What can I do to help make that happen?
“Want me to get us some tea? Or maybe you want a whiskey?”
“No babe. Just bring me a water, okay?
Dove moves to the kitchen and I resume petting my girl. I want to hold her paw. Very carefully, I pick it up and cup it in my palm. I hope she knows I am with her.
Little soft sounds rise in Maudie and her eyelids flutter. I don’t think it’s pain. It is more like a response to some scene playing out in her mind. Like when she dreams. Is she running with Boo through the trees? Is she watching the sunset from the porch? Does she see me there with her? Or are the animals we loved before gathered in excitement on the Rainbow Bridge awaiting her arrival and she can see them? An almost imperceptible wag of her tail is the last movement she makes before her heart quiets. I begin to sob.
16
Nobel
The priest directs his pointed comment at Van who happens to be fucking around with Scarlett’s friend Aby, the bridesmaid. They have decided to dance up the aisle to the violin and harp music.
“This isn’t rocket science, just move forward at an even pace people.” He claps his meaty hands in rhythm.
Reverend Ralph has a disgusted look on his face. He does not suffer fools lightly. It may not be priestly, but it is funny. I imagine some future sheet cake with the man’s words spelled out in red letters. My brother, and the woman he currently is targeting for a wedding day hookup, stop the bullshit and get on board. I think Scarlett’s evil eye made its point.
We won’t be punished for any church infraction. My brothers and I have done much worse in here and gotten away with every one. Like putting a condom on St. Peter’s statue. It was a job for The Invisible Man, and totally worth the risk of being discovered. I don’t think I ever made my brothers laugh so much. I gained their respect with that one. They figured I was just as twisted as they were. Invisible or not. The story wasn’t admitted until I was in my twenties. By then no one gave a shit.
My parents are probably reliving their own wedding, when they were married by the Reverend. They were all young then. Younger than we are now by twenty years. It’s hard to picture them as innocents. Father Ralph had just been transferred from another parish and according to the descriptions just as cynical as he is today. Baptisms, confirmations, and every other sacrament we were part of has involved him in some way.
It’s kind of funny only one Lyon kid has stayed in the Church. And it isn’t the bride. Ralph doesn’t need to know what Scarlett thinks about his church. She respects him and family tradition, and that is enough for her. Ironically, it is Van who still attends Mass and considers himself Catholic. Maybe he still likes to cruise women in the congregation like he did at sixteen.
I make eye contact with Dove who sits patiently in a long almost empty pew. She winks. Two rows ahead sit my parents, behind them Teddy and Sam. Parish’s sister and his family are across the aisle. So far the rehearsal has gone pretty smoothly. It’s a happy group.
My sister and her man deserve the joy. That’s how I feel about their traumatic story. I know being a good person doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing in life. But if there is karma or justice of any kind in this world, she and Parish would reap the reward. Scarlett’s sacrifice for Sam alone is worthy of all things good. She put her whole life on hold to make sure he survived his mother and father’s deaths.
The fact Scarlett was processing it at the same time speaks to her strength. It was up to her and she came through with flying colors. Not an easy task for a childless, young woman. She left us to be with Sam and navigate his initial grief after the car accident. Just as Kristen would have wanted. It was a beautiful thing. Kind of holy in a way.
Life is odd, though. In doing that she ended up meeting Parish. Think she saved him too. Because according to him he was living a cliche’. A writer turning into an alcoholic. She is our family’s Joan of Arc and has earned our everlasting respect.
The groom must be feeling emotional as the wedding approaches. The death of his own child is something that is ever present, according to my sister. Just as our loss is. It follows you, whether you are living one of your best moments or worst. It stands silently, always within reach. Think all of us are coming to grips with that.
But I can’t see any of it now. The bride and groom look like an enchanted spell has been placed on them. They are happy as fuck. I like that. Hope over despair. In fact, I have never seen Scarlett so over the moon. He does that to her. Like me and Dove. She does it for me, even though I’m not too happy right at this particular moment. Think I’m hiding it pretty successfully.
After Maudie’s death, she waited a couple of days to lay the hammer down. She’s going to miss the wedding. Every time I think of it I get pissed off. I know there’s hardly a person here who would agree with me. In fact, I would bet they’d think I was being a selfish dick. But, that makes no difference. I am mad at the Universe if nothing else. There’s no order to a life that can take a left turn so randomly. Why do some of us thrive on that? When you can plan for things and make room for small pivots in life it runs so much smoother. There are enough surprises to survive even then.
For Dove, even this rehearsal is going to be cut short. It’s Montana World and we all just live in it. That sounded petty, even in my own mind. I don’t give a damn. It’s how I feel. Couldn’t they have scheduled their band meeting earlier in the day? I mean it’s just to go over things that are etched in their minds. Now Dove is all excited about this Archangel guy. What exactly does he want? Dove was weird when I asked her the question. Maybe the music producer wants a second opinion on the band’s music. Does it work like that? This is just the talking phase, as far as I know. It’s only the beginning of the conversations. God, I sound like an old grumpy man who is pissed the kids are having too much fun. I imagine my eighty-five-year-old self shouting, ‘Get off my lawn!’.
Taking the arm of my aisle mate, Meagan, I nod, and we begin the march. Aargon begged to be paired with cousin Jeri, because it is obvious my bridesmaid has her eye on him. Poor girl doesn’t know he would rather shit in his hat than be pursued by a random woman for whom he has no interest. Too bad, because she seems nice and Aargon needs to have some real fun.
Following Reverend Ralph’s frustrated instructions, we move in proper time toward the altar. When we arrive at Parish and Scarlett, we split, and she goes to the left while I join the groomsmen. Van, Aargon, and I stand next to the best man, Parish’s brother.
When I look Dove’s way, she makes a heart and points to me. Then she ups the ante. With exaggerated silent annunciation she says, “fuck me!”. God, I love the irreverence in her. She would have been my partner in crime in school. Had she been born then. Shit. When we were in grade school, Dove wasn’t even a twinkle in her father’s eye.
My father catches me smiling like a goon. But when he sees where I’m looking he figures it out and smiles himself. My mother is looking at her children like she always has when we are together. With parental pride. It’s really amazing how she kicks out all the shit we have put her through as kids and teenagers and focuses on what she wants to see. Wonder if I will ever know that feeling?
What are the chances of having children when my woman is the lead in a rock band? I can’t picture a pregnant headliner. It doesn’t elude me that I’m only concerned about my nonexistent family whenever it suits the argument. It sucks being self-aware.
I vaguely hear the priest’s instructions to the bride and groom, because Dove has my attention. She looks at her watch. Catching my eye she smiles. There is a conversation happening between us made without words. I’m saying, can’t I have your attention for the short time you are going to be here? She answers, don’t get your boxer briefs in a twist.
“And then I tell you to kiss the bride.”
<
br /> Parish takes the opportunity to plant one on Scarlett. There’s applause from the audience and even Reverend Ralph gets in the spirit by cracking a smile.
“That’s it, folks. You let the bride and groom take the lead back down the aisle. You know the rest,” he says, already heading for the sacristy. “See you tomorrow.”
No one is surprised. There’s alcohol waiting.
We scatter like ants and I head for Dove.
“You look very holy up there. I almost didn’t recognize you with the halo,” she says, standing.
“If you’re a good girl I’ll hear your confession later.”
“I have no sins to confess,” she teases. “Maybe I should hear yours.”
“If you stay for the dinner, I’ll tell you everything. All the dirty details of my impure thoughts.”
I kiss her right in front of God and the saints watching from the sidelines of the room.
“Tempting. But I need to go. We’re meeting at my place.”
There’s no use arguing the point. I know when to fold ‘em.
“Okay. Drive safe. I should be home by nine. Nobody wants this to be a late night.”
“Bye, baby. Have fun. I’ll call you!”
And the girl is gone, leaving me stewing in a broth of unrighteous indignation. I know. But I can’t stop myself.
* * *
The ride to the restaurant is at least distracting. Enlisting the company of Teddy and Sam was easy enough. Few sixteen-year-olds want to ride with their parents. I banked on that, remembering how it was back in the day.
Pulling into the parking lot brings back good memories. It’s Scarlett’s favorite from her childhood. All of us kids loved it. The Mountain Top looks a little timeworn now. Not just the Alpine façade, but the unchanged sign from nineteen ninety something. It seemed cool then, with a cartoon mountain climber about to slip off the edge. But we were looking through kids’ eyes. Now it’s only nostalgic.
“How come Dove isn’t coming?” Sam asks.
I’m still getting used to his deep voice. It finally settled.
“She has a meeting with the band. Are you two bringing dates tomorrow?”
Laughter proceeds the answer. It’s Teddy who spills the plan.
“No! We’re taking Uncle Van’s advice.”
“Well, that’s your first mistake,” I say, unbuckling the seatbelt. “What pearls of wisdom did he tell you?”
As we exit the car, I see the look on their faces. Trouble.
Sam runs a hand through his thick hair and lays it out for me. “He said we should avoid bringing women to any wedding we go to from now on.”
I know what is coming, but I want to hear it from them.
“Why is that?”
“Because a guy never knows who he’s going to run into. We might meet some hot bridesmaids.”
“The bridesmaids are all over twenty-five. Don’t think you’re going to have much luck there, guys.”
I open the door and as Sam passes in front of me one eyebrow raises just like his mother’s used to.
“The blonde was looking. Maybe she wants some of this,” he says.
Their laughter and mine lifts my mood. Shit. The new generation of Lyons has already joined the game and I hardly noticed till now.
“Over here!” my father calls from the private room to the left.
The party has already started, with the bride and groom in animated conversations with their guests. Parish’s brother and sister are footing the bill but despite that, their faces are as happy as our family’s. I can tell from the way they interact the siblings share a close relationship.
It is kind of cool how people feel a different sort of joy at weddings. It’s not like it’s a new concept. We attend weddings all our lives and half of them end in divorce. Despite the fact, we act like we are just being introduced to real love. Everyone shares a collective hope. Maybe that is what has kept our species going. Denial. The feeling lives in this room right now. And this time, I believe it will last.
“Sit here!” my mother says, patting the empty seat next to her. Sam and Teddy claim the seats at the end of the rectangle table, and I slide in to mine.
“Want a cocktail?”
“No thanks. I’m saving the drinking for tomorrow. This water is good.”
A server stands next to the bride and groom, waiting for instructions.
“We’re ordering for the table. Schnitzel and sausages, there will be something for everyone. Is that okay?” Scarlett asks the guests.
There’s agreement all around and the conversations resume. My mother’s hand lands on mine and her eyebrows knit together.
“What’s happening? Why the face?”
Denial won’t work. She figured me out long ago. It’s a given we all can trust her and more than that, respect her take on things.
“It’s this Nashville thing I told you about. Well, that’s not even happening yet. It’s just a maybe.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t think distance is a good thing for a relationship.”
By the questioning look on her face, I need to be clear.
“I mean, she has a great gig here.”
“Do you mean you have a great gig here?”
As the words spilled from my mouth, I heard the weakness of my argument. My mother doesn’t say another word. She just looks with that all knowing expression waiting for me to come to the right conclusion on my own. It worked when I was ten. But it’s not that way this time. Not that easy. I wait her out.
“Listen to yourself, Nobel. First of all, who are you to choose how she navigates her career? You’re in love with the girl?”
“Yes.”
“Do you realize she’s an artist?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then treat her like one. It’s a gift. And trying to squelch it is beneath you. It’s a weak move. You’re smarter than that.”
“Not really,” I say for the first time in my life.
“You better get smart then. Remember, I fell in love with an artist too. I know what I’m talking about.”
“But Dad followed you here.” I think my argument is valid.
“What’s your point?”
“He was the artist that sacrificed so you could pursue your path.”
“And why? Because my big break had presented itself and I needed to take it. He didn’t minimize the opportunity just because it wasn’t his. He didn’t say no because it was inconvenient. When I got the fellowship, it was a big deal. If I didn’t take it, there were many that would have been glad to take my place. Your dad had not made a name for himself yet. He could continue to sculpt wherever he landed.”
“That’s another point. He hadn’t established himself as an artist yet. I have established myself as an attorney.”
“Who are you kidding? I know you can work remotely. That card doesn’t play.”
“But Dad was young. That alone makes the difference.”
“It still was a sacrifice to leave France and come to the United States. And it wasn’t temporary. He gave up everything to be with me. For my dream to flourish. The familiar, his contacts, the closeness of his family, all of it. And it was the right choice, wasn’t it? Because his dream didn’t die. He just found it here with me.”
I sit with the words for a few beats, then add, “If I’m being honest, I don’t like all the men around her either.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Confidence in yourself is the biggest aphrodisiac, son. I wouldn’t do that jealousy angle if I were you.”
We leave the conversation there, as Parish stands for a toast to his bride. But I’m a hundred miles away, considering my mother’s sharp opinions. I would be sired by a brilliant mind.
* * *
Turning off the downstairs lights, I head for the stairs. It’s only nine thirty, but bed sounds too good to pass up. The empty space where Maudie used to sleep is filled with memories. I know it’s a process, and I just have to go through this stage,
but fuck. It’s hard. I find myself avoiding certain places and pictures, just to get through the day without feeling like shit. I miss the hell out of her.
As I climb the first step, lights from an approaching car flood the space. Dove. I know the sound of her car like I know the sounds of her steps. Moving to the front door, I open it and watch as she parks and gets out.
“Hi! Thought I’d surprise you!”
“Good. I was just heading upstairs. Now you can join me.”
“Let’s have ice cream.”
She climbs the porch steps and I take her in an embrace. “How did the meeting go?”
“Good. We’re all nervous about tomorrow. Except for Jimmy of course.”
As we walk inside, I flip on the lights.
“Is that his M.O.?”
“Nothing ruffles his feathers. I’ll get the ice cream,” she says, heading for the kitchen.
It’s a throwaway remark, but it pisses me off. So, the guy is cool under fire. That’s probably because he’s trying to show off for you. You don’t see it, but I do. God, I hate this side of me.
“What time do you have to be at your parents’ tomorrow?”
“They want us all there by eleven. You know, pictures and getting dressed together. All the usual things.”
“That’s going to be so fun. I figure to get to the reception around four. That’s not so bad, right?”
“Do whatever you need to. I’ll fill the time avoiding dancing and eating shrimp. I’ll most likely be drunk by the time you arrive.”
She laughs, but I don’t. I am one hundred percent serious. And completely over this week.
17
Dove
“Don’t look like you’re about to take a shit!” Deborah says, watching our images on the screen.
Oscar’s shoulders relax and he shakes out his hands. I adjust the curl laying over my shoulder. Jimmy clears his throat. But ZZ? He stays where he is perched and doesn’t change the serious expression. Nothing riles Tony much. He’s cool under fire.