by L. U. Ann
The phone rings waking me after taking forever to fall asleep. Glancing at the time, I silently chastise whoever is on the other side of the line. Everyone knows not to call me at night unless it’s an emergency. After receiving the late night call about my mom, I have a hard time dealing with the phone ringing after ten o’clock at night.
I grabbed the receiver on the third ring. “Hello?” I ask, throwing the covers back to get up. I don’t want to wake up Devon. He needs his sleep.
“Lacey?” I roll my eyes at the voice on the other end. “I heard about Devon. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t anyone call me?” Seriously?
“Because we were busy.” I try to state the obvious. Sorry that I didn’t think to call you when I was scared Devon was dead. Does she really think she’s the first person I was thinking about at a time like that? Shaking my head, I settle onto the sofa and brace myself for a long phone call.
“I’m sorry, but glad he’s okay. Did you hear I got a job at the local library?” I want to yell at how selfish she is.
“No, I didn’t,” I say. But what I want to say is, ‘I was trying to take care of my husband who I thought was dead and grieving over my mom.’
“Well, when your life seems rough, remember your uncle was just sentenced to twenty more years in prison.”
“Excuse me?” I sit up questioning the lady who somehow came from the exact gene pool as my mom.
“Lacey, I miss him. I have no one except Grandpa.” My stomach turns.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel sorry for him. He ruined my life.”
“What? Ruined your life?”
“Yes, Aunt Paula! He abused me!”
“You are lying. My brother would never do something like that.” I have a hard time catching my breath. “My sister would have told me if something happened. We told each other everything,” she finishes.
“I’m sorry you think I’m lying. I would never do something like that. I don’t feel sorry for him. I hope he rots in jail!” and with that, I hang up the phone.
How dare she accuse me of lying. My life has taken detours because of what he did. Never would I make up the experience that happened to me.
I cry grieving the little girl who lost so much.
“Never be sad for what is over, just be glad that it was once yours.”
~Anonyms
Three months later…
“LACEY!” Becca shouts waking me from my trance and I jump.
Huh?
“Where the hell are you?” Pointy eyes have irritation spilling out of them. If she could blow steam out of her ears, I think she would. “Love, you need to bust out of this funk. You are spacing out in nightmare squared again?!”
I shrug, not knowing if she was asking or telling me. I do not want to talk about it right now she will have my head.
“Lacey, don’t give me that just ducky bullshit. I know you are dealing with stuff right now and I am here, love. Please remember that I’m your straight money, okay?” She grabs my hands, bringing them together between us. “Besties forever. I will be right there by your side. I love you even though you are one of the greatest pains in my ass.” She winks, compassion replacing irritation.
“Love you, too.” I quickly draw her into a hug to hide the single tear that has just escaped my eyes. I know I will most likely shed plenty as the clock slowly ticks reminding me how destructive my choices have been.
“I know Lane wants to go with us, but can’t.” I concur with a tight-lipped nod. “Hurry up or we’re going to be late,” she finishes with a smile before walking out of my bedroom dressed similar to me. Only her black dress is strapless where mine has small sleeves and a swooping neckline.
A wave of nausea overcomes me as I think back to that horrid night. Barely making it to the bathroom, I expel not only my lunch, but maybe a little bit of the emotional pain I kept held inside. After a number of violent spells, a cool, damp washcloth lays on my neck, and I silently thank God for blessing me with my best friend.
“Just let it out, love,” she encourages. “I know you are hurting, but I’m here for you. Please tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”
Unable to speak as another wave overtakes my body, I succumb to the violence erupting inside and surprisingly, I feel a small sense of relief. The stark contrast between my body and the cool porcelain I am holding onto for dear life is refreshing.
“It’s all right, Becca. I don’t know what happened, I just lost it.” I attempt to explain disguising my tears while my stomach turns inside out.
“That’s some serious bulltesh, love. Will you do you and I a favor, and stop trying to fool me? For the love of all that is holy, I know you better than anyone, and you need to cut the crap and be honestbutt.”
Her sarcasm lightens the mood, allowing us to laugh. “Honestbutt, Becca?” I try to say with a straight face.
“Uh, yeah. All this seriousness is putting a damper on my mood. There is one hottie downstairs, and then there is Ryan.” She winks.
“You frighten me sometimes,” I say pushing her backward. We laugh and finish getting ready.
Heading to church, we all pile into the limo. Dressed in the similar black solemn attire, our ride is full of entertainment by Evan. He cracks us up with his enunciation of certain words. Grandma Pain asked him if he wanted to go to Taco Bell afterward, Evan’s reply of ‘shits’ for ‘chips’ launched waves of laughter. It only continued to get worse as my poor child said ‘fuck’ instead of ‘truck.’ I was mortified to hear ‘lasagna’ is ‘vigiya.’ Grandma Pain and Becca knew exactly what they were doing. I had not laughed that hard in a while.
It seems that lately, sadness oozes from my veins. I guess I have been mourning. The car stops and Juan, the driver, opens the door for me. With a deep breath, I step out into the crisp air. My ears fill with the beautiful sound as Ave Maria hums from the beautiful historic building. I smooth the fresh wrinkles of my dress and turn to take the hand of my precious little boy who leads the way. The delay in his small steps only makes the knot in my stomach grow larger.
It feels like it has been years, but it hasn’t been long. It feels like I was just looking over and praying that this was not reality, but it is. It feels as if I am, at this moment, praying for a miracle, later to only beg it was not true.
No amount of pain medication can ease the heaviness in my chest. It feels as if all of my mistakes, all of the sadness, are suffocating me. Is it going to be here the rest of my life?
The rest of my life…
I want to fall to my knees and scream to the heavens. I am not trying to be a martyr; never would I think to do something so crazy. I know the reason I am here right now along with my family is due to my destructive choices.
Evan wiggles his hand, and it was then I realize I am at the bottom of the familiar marbleized steps of St. Augustine’s Catholic Church. The sun descends, but the beautiful ornate features of this church are softly illuminated creating a warming welcome under the canopy of trees.
Maneuvering the steps one by one, Evan helps himself, dipping practically his entire hand in the holy water. Oh, geez, Lacey. You are a great mom! I cannot help rolling my eyes at myself. The soft glow of the candles dominates the antiquated interior. The intricate carvings, rich stained-glass windows, and small attention to detail are the same as when it resurrected in 1902. This architecturally prominent building is my church. I love everything about its warmth and serenity.
My mom’s memorial service was here. Tears pooling, I allow Evan to pick our pew and he sits. While everyone continues to file in, I kneel and silently pray to ask for the forgiveness I believe is needed. As I fix my dress sitting back in the pew, Becca grabs my hand. I cannot look at her or I will fall apart.
Thank heavens Evan can hardly keep still wanting to dance to the beautiful hymns. I can focus on that for now. Grandma Pain acts like a heathen, pretending to snap her fingers bobbing her head up and down in sync with Evan. I roll my eyes. God, please do not strike my po
or child, or me for that matter, for Grandma Pain’s silly antics.
As people file in, I try to busy myself with checking out their outfits. I know that I am probably just as bad as Grandma Pain. Becca nudges me when an older woman walks by with her skirt twisted and one of the gentlemen has part of his pants tucked into his sock. I try not to chuckle, but it is a hopeless cause. Dear God, please forgive me.
The solemn service begins. This is not just any service. It’s All Soul’s Day where Catholics pray for the dearly departed. We pray for the souls in purgatory, the final act of purification before they move onto heaven. Why is it a big deal? Growing up in the Catholic Church, I was taught that committing suicide is a sin – an irrevocably grave sin. One where there is no eternal salvation. However, I do not see how God, the God I believe in, would punish my mom. How would he condemn her when she was in so much pain – mentally and physically? I should be the one banned, ad infinitum. She could cope with visits with Evan, and I was the one who took that away from her aggravating her state where she ultimately gave into the anguish of depression.
I must pray as hard as I can for her to move on and into peace. To a place where she can finally rest. Free of any misery I caused. Bells chime as names are read of those who have died. Every beat of my heart is threatening to break free just before I hear my mother’s full name read. I pull Evan closer to where I am kneeling and hold him while I pray for Mom and for what I withheld from her. I pray for Evan that he may never endure the pain so deep and has a life full of nothing but happiness from this point forward.
Amazing Grace is beautifully sung as the service ends. I stand, wiping my eyes with one of the tissues from the wad I thankfully remembered to grab. Big arms wrap me, granting me permission to let go of my still raw emotions.
“It’s okay, I’m here.” The deep masculine voice resonates in my ear blanketing my nerves in comfort.
Seven and a Half
I have dealt with disappointment, regret, and fear too many times when it has come to Caine. It needs to stop.
He manipulated the naïve teenager, isolated her from her family and friends to gain control over her life. It made me putty in his hands. I couldn’t raise a baby on my own, at least that’s how his behavior made me feel. He toyed with my emotions and played games with my mind, causing me to become a weak shell of the person my mom raised.
I had lived through and survived his verbal lashings, his threats, the punishments carried out in both beatings and social isolation. I am a survivor and Evan is better off not living in a toxic environment such as the one I lived while I was pregnant. I pray there won’t be any lasting effects from the emotional and physical abuse.
The last time I saw him, he tried to rape me while I was grieving the loss of my mom and the possibility of Devon’s, too. Once I left, I never looked back.
“Don’t wait for tomorrow, because you will never get today back.”
~Author Unknown
The All Soul’s Day service concluded and the chords of Amazing Grace continue to ring loud throughout the beautiful church. I prayed so hard for her to move on to peace. Large arms circle my waist and allow me to relax. His hold calms my aching heart and wakes me from milling over the last three months I have been revisiting. As the congregation files out, I couldn’t help reflect on the number of positive steps Devon and I have taken to make our life better and our family stronger. I hold on, not wanting to let go of the sincere, comforting embrace I almost lost. Lips graze the side of my head while arms wrap around securing the lock to my heart. The warmth soothes the painful shadows of losing Mom forever.
“Sugar Pants,” he whispers, inviting light into my darkness. I silently thank God for Devon’s return. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m beyond grateful for this gift. Large hands travel up the back of my dress, cupping my face as he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here earlier.”
“It’s okay, you’re here now.” I inhale, moving my hands to rest onto his while I am still consumed in the rich moment of acknowledgments. Even though it has been three months since the accident, the pain tends to be too much sometimes. Between losing Mom and thinking Devon slipped from my life, mentally, I spiraled into depression. One I wasn’t able to tread without the help of professionals. I was drowning. “How was your last physical therapy appointment?” I ask changing the subject, convinced this will ease my mind. Focus remains on the piercing blues that match the stone circling a fourth finger on my left hand. “Did they clear you to drive?” I tease.
“It was good and yes, as a matter-of-fact, they did clear me.” He pauses as he devours my eyes. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get out of here.” Affirming the need to pull him into another hug for strength and spin the combination becomes overwhelmingly significant. I’ve learned to cherish every moment, regardless of how simple. The combination along with the smell of his cologne eases the unsteadiness within. I release a cleansing breath.
“Daddeee!” Evan tackles us wanting in on our circle of embrace. In reality, he probably just wants Devon. His energy feeds everyone around.
“Hey, buddy! I missed you both.” Devon steps back, swooping Evan into his arms. “Were you a good boy for Mommy today?” Devon asks, as I wipe stranded tears presenting Becca an apologetic smile. I made it through tonight with undoubtedly the perfect companions. She waves me off maneuvering around the pew to talk with Ryan.
“Aw, Beta,” Evan cries yanking at his tie in all seriousness. I chuckle at my stubborn, free-spirited child. Devon frowns at Becca while she rolls her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation. She puts her hand on her hip pointing at Evan as if she’s mad. He hides his face in Devon’s neck peeking out shortly to see if she’s still pointing her finger. Sure enough, he hides his face again, but begins to giggle. Evan has Becca wrapped around his finger. He figured out he can get away with anything when it comes to her, which only makes my job as his mom all the more difficult. “Let’s just say Evan didn’t want to wear the tie she suggested,” I laugh, “until your brother showed up and said how cool his tie looked on him. Oh, you missed Becca’s fury let loose on your brother. It was hilarious.” I kiss Devon’s cheek and turn toward the isle.
The crowd dissipates. Evan proudly holds Devon’s hand while he proceeds out of the pew. His broken arm, ribs, as well as his soft tissue injuries in his lower back, is healing according to the doctors. I’m so happy he isn’t in the pain he was upon his return. It was awful watching a grown man be helplessly dependent on others. He ran on adrenaline for days in his endeavor to get home. By the following day, his strenuous excursion left him exhausted. He could barely move. It’s strange how the body deals with stress. We are equally thankful for the quick recovery. Many nights after, his breathing slowed into a sound, comfortable sleep, I found myself hiding in the bathroom crying for hours. Weeks passed where sleep evaded, too scared he would slip from my grip to only wake up with him gone the next day.
“Are we all going back to the house?” Devon asks, startling me from my thoughts as I deftly join our group gathering outside. Knowing something is off, he reaches for my shaky hand. Fingers lace threading the two of us into a woven web of eternal love.
“No, it’s just us. Juan is driving everyone else home.” I assure him knowing he wants a quiet evening if possible. Breathing a sigh of relief that tonight is over, the cool autumn air attacks my nostrils and I inhale. The sun has completely descended into the earth and darkness swallows us whole. The contrasts found on each of the ornate statues come to life with the moon’s waking. Delusions of what was found under the sun rays grow with gray shadows creating a new canvas. Interesting how the appearance changes depending on the light. The solid structural details consumed by day are haunting in the night. “Frank, it’s so good to see you.” He folds me in his large outstretched arms. The spicy brute fragrance I have come to associate with this man warms my heart. “I’ve missed you both so much. How’s Alice doing?” I ask.
“We miss
ed you, too, but thank you.” I pull away and examine the wise man.
“Frank, you deserved the trip after everything.” I reinforce, studying his aged expression. “Family always comes first, and I think we all need some time to heal after the last few months. Wouldn’t you agree?” He nods. “It gave us a chance to get to know Juan,” I lean into his ear, “but you have and always will have a special place in our hearts and family.” He agrees politely with knowing appreciation. He has become a solid member fused into our family along with his wife, Alice. Frank has been there since the day I left the hospital over a year ago. It seems like ages. We’ve gone through so much in such a short time.
“How’s little mama doing?” he inquires, allowing me to step back further to show off my growing belly.
“I would say getting fat.” I cannot help my growing smile.
“Ms. Lacey, with all due respect, you are full of crap.” He responds without warning, causing my jaw to drop just before a loud belly laugh surfaces behind me. Becca!
“Frank, I knew I liked you!” Becca bellows from behind. Turning to chastise my best friend, I find her bending at the waist in laughter from Frank’s unexpected curse. Evan shakes his head watching Grandma Pain hide her restrained amusement. I narrow my eyes just enough before I swing my hair over my shoulder ignoring her. Catching a sudden breeze lightens my mood.
“Well, I may only be five months, but I feel fat when I have trouble painting my own toenails.”
“Hmm, Sugar Pants, I could do something about that,” he purrs from behind. “I get you think it’s a waste of money to pay for something you can do yourself, but if you don’t want to get a pedicure, I could paint them for you.” His breath sends shivers down my spine. Ignoring everyone around, I close my eyes and melt into his embrace. He giggles, rubbing my belly.
“So… this has been fun and all, but I think I’m going to go. Devon’s getting all mushy and I’m prone to hurling over you two lovesickers.” Becca exclaims giving me a hug goodbye. “Call me as soon as you hear from Blake,” she says knowing Lane is having contractions. I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.