The Story of Lansing Lotte

by L. B. Dunbar

  “We’re good. We can take the train,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

  “You mentioned family. I can take you to their home.”

  “It’s not…Fleur and I will be okay. I’m sure you must have other plans today.”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he said, as he slipped his hands into his jean pockets again. He looked off to his side and waited for me to respond.

  “I just assumed you would have plans with the band, or your mother, or…” I couldn’t say her name again.

  “I don’t have plans with Guinie, I already told you this.”

  We were quiet for a moment as we stood outside the church. The air was cold and Fleur hopped back and forth to keep her legs warm.

  “I need to go,” I said again. We had to catch the train to make it there and back by noon.

  “Tell me where you’re going. I’ll take you. I have nothing planned and I could use the distraction.”

  I sighed deeply and looked up at the cloudy sky. The traffic was crazy due to the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Fleur and I always were going against the stream, trying to get out of the city as so many were trying to enter for the special occasion.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, as I looked at my watch again.

  We rode in silence out of the city limits. I directed Lansing when I needed to, but I didn’t speak otherwise. My thoughts were not my own. They never were. At last we pulled up in front of the wrought iron gate that stood a story high, standing guard over the family members inside. Lansing glanced sideways at me, but he didn’t speak as he followed the curving path until he came to the necessary lot.

  When the car came to a complete stop, Lansing looked at me.

  “Family?” he whispered. I opened my door without acknowledging him and helped Fleur exit the back seat. She held my hand as we walked slowly up the slanted slope to the two small headstones marking the spot. Vance Lovelourne. Sara Lovelourne. My father had been forty-five, my sister only twenty-two. I silently stood for a few moments, my mind wandering to images of Sara and I as children, then images of us as teenagers. Finally, I concentrated on the visions of us fighting on that fateful day. I could hardly remember her clearly. Sometimes I think I merged snapshots of her anger and the sweet face of Fleur together, and confused the two in my head. She had been so mad at me that day, but I had been just as angry with her. For years.

  When Sara slept with Josh, and then found out she was pregnant, Josh refused to recognize their night together. He said he had been with several other girls, as he was sure that Sara had been with several other guys, and he couldn’t be convinced she was carrying his child. He tried to return to me, begging me to forgive him, but I just couldn’t. She was my sister, my best friend, and he slept with her when he said he loved me. He even used that in his apology. He said he loved me, but if he loved me, he wouldn’t have done that to me. And neither would my sister.

  My anger was long gone, though. I had let it go years ago.

  An arm slipped around me as I stood at the grave and stared at Sara’s name. I jumped in my startle and squeezed Fleur’s hand. She flinched and I let go of her. She walked toward the grave stone and traced the letters over her mother’s name. Lansing’s arm tightened around me. I continued to follow with my eyes the little fingers of Fleur as she looped over the S and outlined the A.

  “Fleur isn’t my daughter,” I said softly, “and she’ll never know her mother.”

  “You’re her mother, now,” he said. “What happened?”

  I swallowed hard, not wanting to tell the story. Yet, knowing that it had to be told.

  “My sister and I had found a truce. Fleur had forced us to do that. When Josh Tucker denied his paternity, my father allowed Sara to continue living in the apartment until the baby was born. I couldn’t handle living in the same room as her and had been spending the nights on the couch. My father finally decided to get Sara her own place in Dolores Guard. She would be close enough that we could give her help, but on her own enough to learn her role as mother.

  When Fleur was born, I fell in love.” I smiled weakly.

  “She wasn’t mine, but she connected Sara and I, as Sara did need help raising her. We both had school to finish and work schedules. We were like that old saying, ‘it takes a village.’ We worked together to take care of Fleur. When Fleur was almost two, I learned that Sara had been in contact with Josh again. They hadn’t seen each other, or so I had been told, but on Thanksgiving Day, I found out they had. They had been in contact off and on throughout the years of Fleur’s young life. My sister had actually slept with Josh again in attempts to make him see he should be with them. I knew from experience, sleeping with Josh wasn’t the way to keep him. I could have spared Sara her attempts, if I had known, but when I found out, I went ballistic. I was screaming at Sara that she couldn’t just leave well enough alone. I told her I hated her for what she had done to me. I yelled at her that she had ruined my life. I would never forgive her if she got back together with him. He didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve him. And Fleur didn’t deserve either one of them.

  I ran out of the house on that Thanksgiving morning in my anger without a coat, but I never felt the cold until my energy was spent. I slipped down the stairs and out the front door of the building and ran. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Then, I stopped and walked aimlessly through the city. I don’t remember what I thought about. Being angry takes lots of energy, but I couldn’t remember one bit of my thoughts. I wandered, I strolled, and I stewed. When I got home to find Fleur with Clare, I was told that my family was dead.

  My father had apparently demanded that my sister follow me. It had snowed the night before and the weather was cold. The streets were busy and the roads were icy. A drunk driver, celebrating the holiday at ten in the morning, slammed into them, killing my sister on impact and my father within hours. The hours I had been wandering around the city, my father who had been chasing after me was suffering, while I pouted about a man who wasn’t even worth it.”

  My eyes were dry. I had cried them all out years ago for Sara and for my father, even for Josh. Not only from the heartbreak he caused me, but the loss he would have in his life because he wouldn’t claim his daughter. Lansing slowly rubbed up and down my back and I flinched at the contact. He stopped and held his hand on the small of my back. I continued my story.

  “When my father died I inherited two things: his apartment and Fleur. The apartment was paid in full and left in my name, knowing that the other apartment was in Sara’s name. Upon her death I had to sell her place and claim her daughter, whom fell to me by default. My mother refused to take Fleur in. Her own grandmother denied this child, again. I had no choice and I took Fleur as my penance. I had to drop out of NYU for the rest of the semester and go through a long struggle with social services. My mother had rights to adopt Fleur and she signed them over to me. I was hardly twenty years old at the time, and I knew nothing about being a parent. I wasn’t doing it full time like Sara. I was the aunt, the babysitter, the fun one. Sara disciplined. I played. Suddenly, I was both.”

  I watched Fleur as she danced over the graves of her ancestors. I laughed bitterly to think of some idiom about dancing on graves. It was used for enemies and a sign of celebration for their death by revenge. What do you call it when you dance on the graves of family members after you bear the guilt of their death?

  I looked at my watch again. Lansing looked down at my wrist, also.

  “Time to go, Fleur,” I said to her and smiled when she looked at me. My sister’s face. Fleur looked exactly like her and I could have cried, if I had any tears left.

  Lansing walked behind us quietly then reached around me to open the door of his fancy sports car. Fleur climbed in the back and I buckled her in before getting in the front. Lansing still held my door while I was seated then closed it. He turned to look back at my family’s gravesite for a moment. I couldn’t imagine his thoughts. Maybe he thought of some family members of his.
He hadn’t mentioned anyone other than his foster mother, Vivian. Maybe he thanked heaven that Arturo wasn’t in that cemetery. We hadn’t discussed the fact that we had both seen Arturo.

  He entered the car and started the ignition, saying, “Friends next?” He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. I tweaked my lip to the side then nodded. I gave him directions to go back into the city and I told him to return to Dolores Guard. He didn’t say anything until we were back at the building. The expression on his face showed his confusion.

  “You’re celebrating with someone in the building.”

  “Not yet,” I said. We exited the garage and walked toward the newly restored elevator. Lansing stopped, but I kept walking.

  “Wait? Where are you going? I thought it was here.”

  I shook my head as I took Fleur’s hand again.

  “Nope, we only came back here to get a cab.”

  Lansing narrowed his eyes at me.

  “I said I’d drive you.” His voice had a trace of anger.

  “I know, but we don’t need to drive a great distance. It’s easier to take a cab. Plus that fancy car would stand out where we are going.”

  Lansing looked at me, then Fleur before he glanced out the revolving door of the building, and sighed.

  “Okay,” was all he said as he walked to the circular glass and held his hand out for us to go first.

  I didn’t like the way things were going. Lila kept trying to get rid of me, and I kept forcing my way into her day. It had been sad so far. I couldn’t remember the last time I entered a church. I kept waiting for lightning bolts to hit and start the place on fire with me inside. I didn’t belong there praising heaven, because I knew I was going straight to hell for my sins lately. Lila was lost to me for that hour. She wasn’t exactly into it religiously either, but I could tell she was struggling with something.

  Nothing prepared me for the drive into a cemetery. When she said family, I hadn’t even imagined that she meant those that had died. I knew her mother was an absentee, somewhere in Florida. Other than a few comments here and there, I got the impression Lila and her mother weren’t close. She seemed sad as she stared at the headstones of her father and sister. The guilt visibly ate at her. It matched my own, in many ways. I hadn’t killed Arturo, but he would be dead to me if he knew what I’d done. He was my brother, in many ways, and I had slept with his girl, like Josh Tucker had done with Lila’s sister. My guilty cup overflowed, and I understood slightly why Lila reacted the way she did – defending Arturo and all. She could sympathize with him.

  I, however, sympathized with Sara, in more ways than one. Blood drained, bone tired, dead inside, I had no emotion for anything anymore. I could empathize further with Sara, because I understood that fighting the attraction was right and giving in was wrong. I also knew, that in the heat of the moment, Sara probably believed accepting the desire felt right, despite knowing it was wrong. It was a heavy concept. I didn’t feel any better about what I’d done.

  I knew one thing. I didn’t want to be alone. A holiday without the band was going to be hard enough. A day alone, thinking about Guinie, would be beyond painful. I needed a distraction, and Lila and Fleur filled that for me. I couldn’t imagine where we were going next on our adventure. I could sense that Lila was getting anxious. She clearly didn’t want me around and I desperately continued to invade her space.

  I shouldn’t have been shocked when our next stop was a homeless shelter for women. Lila entered the place and was immediately embraced by a large woman with a bit of a French accent. Her name was Marie and as we stood in the kitchen, I inhaled the most delicious smell.

  “What is that?” I breathed deeply and crossed the large room to stand near the stove.

  “That is not for you, young man. It’s dinner for a few hundred hungry women.”

  I felt guilty again and tried to look repentant with a pouting lip. Marie laughed a jolly giggle.

  “Your dimples don’t work on me, mister.”

  I laughed and noticed that for the first time that day; Lila was smiling. Marie turned to stir something on the stove and I walked back toward Lila.

  “Friends?” I questioned, and Lila nodded.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “I’m here to help out.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I serve food.”

  I was silent for a second, and Lila passed me while asking Marie where to start.

  “Lady Killer over there can help me take out this bird, and carve it up.”

  I winced at the name she called me, and knew instantly she recognized me. My eyes met Lila’s with concern, but she shook her head at me to reassure me that Marie was teasing.

  Opening the oven door, I was hit with a mouthwatering aroma and I watched as Marie slid a golden turkey out of the stove. I decided if I was to be here, I was going to help.

  There wasn’t one morsel of turkey remaining. I tried to snag pieces throughout the afternoon, but Lila warned me that due to health codes I couldn’t just start nibbling. I had to wear plastic gloves and plate food. I was ogled throughout the day. By day’s end, I felt like I needed a shower. I’d been eye-fucked so much I could smell the sex in the air. I’d look over at Lila, who would only laugh at me as another lady eyed me as if she could eat me for Thanksgiving. A few ladies asked for autographs, and a couple wanted an autograph on inappropriate places. It was depressing, yet strangely rewarding. It reminded me of Ingrid Tintagel and her cause, WomenFirst, the group we played for on the night of Arturo’s disappearance. At day’s end, I asked Lila why she did it.

  “I try to remind myself that this could have been my sister. When Josh refused to recognize Fleur, she could have been a single mother on her own.”

  “That never would have happened, though, with you as her sister,” I added.

  “Don’t make me a hero, Lansing. I wasn’t kind to my sister for years, despite helping her raise Fleur.”

  Lila was at that point again where she seemed exasperated with me. She’d had her fill of me for the day. She brushed past me with a pot that was clearly too big for her to carry, but her determination showed that she wasn’t letting anyone else help her out.

  We stayed a bit longer to help pick up the main eating area, but a new crew of volunteers was there to clean. Thank goodness, as I not only needed that shower from all the glances, but I felt greasy from head to toe from sweating to cut steamy food and serve it. As we were preparing to exit the building through the back kitchen entrance, a large man walked in.

  “Lansing?”

  “Perk?” I questioned, as he pulled me into a hard hug.

  We had all decided to go our own ways for the holiday. Without Ingrid to unite us, it just didn’t seem like there was much to be thankful for at the time. Perk pulled back and stared at me for a long time.

  “You look like shit,” he said and swiped at my long bangs.

  “Nice to see you, too,” I laughed.

  “What are you doing here?” he replied.

  “I should ask you the same, but wait, isn’t this where that girl lives.”

  “That girl has a name, and you know it. Hollister.”

  “Relax,” I said to his defensive tone, “I only meant she lives here.”

  Perk refused to answer my question as Lila came up beside me.

  “Who’s this?” he smiled at Lila and then down at Fleur.

  “Lila Lovelourne,” Lila said, sticking out a hand without waiting for my introduction. “And this is Fleur.”

  “Are you staying here?” Perk said with concern. I realized that I hadn’t considered enough why women were here.

  “No, volunteered for the day.”

  “And dragged Lansing with you?”

  “He volunteered to come.”

  “I bet he did,” Perk mumbled under his breath before adding, “that was generous of you, to give of your time, Lansing.”

  “I could use the distraction,” I huffed and ran my hands through my
hair. We stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  “Hello, little flower,” Perk finally said, as he squatted his big body down to Fleur’s size. Fleur didn’t shake hands with him as she backed into Lila’s legs and looked up at me.

  “Fleur, this is Perk. He’s one of my friends. He plays in my band.”

  “Do you play the guitar like Mr. Lansing?”

  “Mr….what? No, I play the drums. It’s more fun because I get to bang on things.”

  Perk made an exaggerated motion on his thighs and through the air. Fleur watched his hands move frantically before he stopped suddenly. He stood slowly and I turned to look over my shoulder. A vision in white stood behind me. Hollister SanGrael looked like an angel, a dark one. Her jet black hair was a striking contrast to the dress she wore which was cream colored to match her skin. But it was her eyes that froze me. Bright gray, they sized me up before she looked at Perk.

  “Are you flirting with the help?” she teased Perk.

  “Never,” he breathed. He was awkward, at best, with his size and his upbringing. He seemed to miss that she was teasing him, but I could have been wrong because he crossed the floor in two large steps, and kissed her cheek in a way I’d never seen Perk touch any girl. He muttered something only to her and she turned a shade of pink.

  She addressed Lila over Perk’s shoulder.

  “It was nice of you to take the shift again this year. It’s not the most popular time of day.”

  Lila only nodded and smiled sadly again. I had missed something. She was shutting down. She exited the kitchen after a brief reply of, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  I almost had to run to catch up with her. I didn’t know what happened, but she was walking like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  “Whoa, slow down,” I said reaching for her arm. I stopped her with a jolt and Fleur stumbled forward, knocking into Lila.