The Battered Heiress Blues

by Laurie Van Dermark

  The mirror didn’t lie. I was hideous. Without makeup and a real will to achieve beauty, there was no way to remedy my appearance. Pulling my hair up into a knot on the top of my head, I pinned it tightly. One solitary curl fell down at the side of my face, which I didn’t bother to readjust. The long tress fell across the last of the yellowing bruises and seemed to provide a bit of camouflage. The sound of the water ended and the bathroom door opened, revealing Henry bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Can you hand me some clothes out of that bag?” he asked.

  He should be in marble. I felt very plain next to him. I walked to his weekend bag and sifted through the options.

  “What should I wear?” he thought aloud.

  “You sound like a girl,” I protested.

  “I’m asking so you feel comfortable, considering I bought you a leisure suit.”

  “Well then, where is yours? That would make me feel more at ease.”

  “They were out. I guess I’ll just go with the Abercrombie and Fitch.”

  “You bugger. Hurry up. I’m ready to go.”

  Nodding, he dressed, tussled his hair, and we were on our way home- to Connor.

  2

  The plane ride was long and uneventful. We’d bought some food on the way to the airport, but the gravity of the day diminished my appetite. Henry tried to persuade me to take advantage of the darkness and sleep, but I knew what the morning was going to bring. After our arrival at dawn and the drive home, I would only have a short time to change and emotionally prepare for Connor’s service. The quiet I was enjoying would soon be stolen by well meaning strangers.

  Henry, on the other hand, had no trouble sleeping. Stretching out with a full stomach, he became lifeless, except for the occasional turn from one side to the other. The captain’s announcement of our impending landing woke him. Becoming very attentive, he prodded me to eat and drink some juice. Looking out the window, I prayed for strength to make it through the day.

  I must have nodded off in the car, only waking when the vehicle came to a screeching halt at the gate to my mama’s house. Transferring ownership to me after her death, the house had remained well maintained and very stately. A tall red brick wall surrounded the property line at the road. Two black iron gates with an “S” scrolled into the design had been a gift from my father to my mother. Stopping at the black box to type in the security code, the gates slowly rolled away from one another, revealing a tree lined drive to the main house. I put down the window to take in the salt air. I felt like I was finally home.

  The big white house was all abuzz with workers coming and going from the front door. The old Southern mansion had real charm with huge verandas on both levels. The rocking chairs on them were inviting, but no one had time to sit a spell on this day with tasks to accomplish before the service. Florists were delivering peace lilies and white roses. Catering trucks cluttered the circular driveway making it impossible to park at any close distance to the house. Tables and chairs were being unloaded and brought inside.

  The car came to a stop and I paused, reluctant to open the door. Henry gave my hand a squeeze, signaling his support. I tried to smile in return.

  “What is all this? I thought we were having a quiet, private ceremony for the family?”

  “I told your father about your wishes, but you know how he is. I’m sorry.”

  He exited the car and stood stoically, looking around at all the commotion. Shaking his head in disapproval, he walked around to help me out.

  “Why don’t you rest for awhile? I’ll take you upstairs.”

  “No. I’m going to the chapel. -Alone…to pray. I’ll be back. How much time do I have before people start showing up?”

  “Two hours. No more. You’ll need time to get a shower. I had my assistant buy a simple black dress and heels. I hope they’ll be okay. They should be upstairs in your room. Are you sure you want to go alone? I can sit with you.”

  “No. I’m sure Tommy will be there preparing for the Mass. Don’t worry.”

  “-Easier said.”

  I gave him a hug and my best look of having it together before walking toward the path that led to the small white chapel. Someone had tied ropes of white roses around the tree trunks that lined the path. The gesture wasn’t charming or sweet- just weird. This was a funeral- not a wedding. There would be no happiness today. If I could have tinted them all black to match my mood, I would have done it. The chapel doors were open and I could see the tiny casket sitting below the altar. Unlit candelabras were at the end of each pew, along with those ridiculous flowers. Sprays of floral arrangements with cards attached filled every available space.

  Connor was alone and I was thankful. Stepping in the doorway, I closed it shut behind me. My feet ran forward, stopping the instant my hands found the wood. I tried lifting it to see if I had the strength to carry it over to the first pew. I did. The muscles in my abdomen silently screamed in pain, echoing the noises in my mind. Sitting back slowly, I rested him on my lap. The tears that had disappeared over the last week, returned in full force. I couldn’t look at the casket and think of him in there. I just imagined that I was holding my son as I did in that hospital room, fixing my eyes on the cross ahead. We sat together for some time before I heard the chapel door squeak open. Unable to bring myself to look back, I suddenly felt ashamed for having taken Connor from the stand. People wouldn’t understand me holding him like this. I wasn’t sure I cared.

  “Hi.” My brother knelt down beside me trying to ascertain my mood, placing his hands upon mine.

  “Hi.” I was happy to have Tommy with me. He and I had been inseparable since childhood. The loss of a mother and alienation of a father made us cling to each other as if becoming our own life raft. Tears silently paraded down my face and he reached up to wipe them away.

  “I love you…so much. I’m so sorry for all this.”

  “I can’t do this, Tommy.” My panicked eyes found his.

  “You can. For him, you can. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “Stubborn and strong are two different things. It’s not supposed to end like this. I had plans for us. We had a future.”

  “You still do, Julia. You just can’t see it now. God will…”

  “Don’t start with the God crap.” He pushed the wrong button. I wouldn’t stomach his allegiance to any deity that would take my baby. “Where was your God, Tommy…the one you pray to every night? -The one who you asked to protect us during your nightly prayers. He doesn’t exist. A good God would never have let this happen. Please…” My head lowered in defeat.

  “I’m sorry. Can I just sit with you?”

  I shook my head in agreement; embarrassed for the tongue lashing I had given him. His intentions were honorable, but I still didn’t want to hear it, even if it was coming from my brother, the priest. We sat silently until Henry came to retrieve me. He looked a little perplexed, seeing us holding Connor’s coffin in our laps.

  “Uh, you need to come and get ready now.” He stood, stumped about what else to say that would elicit movement toward the chapel door.

  Tommy got up and asked with his eyes if he could take Connor from me. I moved my hands off the top of the wood to signal my approval. He placed him back on the stand and took a step back. Walking forward, I stroked the lid, and left.

  Our walk back to the house was silent. Trucks were starting to leave and ahead of me, on the porch, stood my father, waiting to greet me. My stomach soured. If Henry hadn’t been at my side, I would have walked around to the back to avoid him.

  “Julia.” His arms were outstretched and I had little choice but to walk into them. I couldn’t bring myself to return the embrace. My arms remained at my side as he half hugged me, equally uncomfortable

  “John,” I replied, emotionless.

  He broke our embrace to look at me. I could feel his disapproval of the pink leisure suit. Turning to Henry, he commanded, “Does she have something more suitable to wear?”r />
  “Yes Sir. She’s going upstairs to change now.”

  His attention turned back toward me. “Take a shower. Your hair…”

  “I will. I’ll be presentable. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried, Julia. You are always presentable.”

  I pulled away and brushed by him to enter the house. As expected, Henry remained with him. Climbing the stairs to my room, I shut and locked the door, figuring that Henry would try to sneak away to check on me and I was mad. I didn’t want to see him now if it meant cheating on my father.

  The hot shower felt relaxing. I tried to focus on the task at hand, hoping to keep my mind from wandering beyond scrubbing my body and washing my hair. The dress that lay on the bed was simple and elegant. I put on the black slip and decided to dry my hair. The grooming products he left for me helped as I twisted my hair up into a loose bun. Opting to forego eye makeup, I decided to just add a little color to my lips and powder to my face. The dress fit perfectly and the heels were a manageable height. Looking in the mirror, I thought that I seemed presentable- the thought more a question than a statement of fact. Let the misery begin.

  The house had come alive again after a year of no visitors. My father had hired a caterer to provide the food for his guests. The funeral had turned into an event; a networking affair for the who’s who of the business world.

  I’d lost Henry again to a formidable adversary. When my father beckoned, he ran to his side like an old faithful lap dog. The sight of them together still made me cringe, despite the somberness of the day. Their partnership was a constant reminder of an entirely different kind of loss; for the heart keeps a different space reserved for romantic love, even when we have lost all hope.

  Tommy delivered a beautiful service for Connor. I sat alone and motionless, in the first pew of the chapel, through the readings. Little could be said about a life that never came to pass. My brother spent most of his homily talking about my qualities and how my son missed out on a great mom; if only that were true. Hindsight painted another picture altogether. I would have said, “Here is a sad, scared woman, who, in fleeing from her life, placed her helpless, and innocent baby in harm’s way. Before you, a selfish and broken woman sits, devoid of all faith and joy.” That condemnation would have been far more accurate and refreshing to those in attendance, for I figured that most held the same skewed thoughts as me. At the very least, I was certain that my father held me accountable. I could feel his glare burn the back of my neck, from the row behind me, during the service. On this day, no one could hate me more than I hated myself.

  With the closing prayer, my father stepped out of the shadows to invite everyone to the house for food. The small chapel began to empty and I was left alone. Tommy was busy shaking hands while Father led the parade to the refreshments.

  I had asked that no one attend Connor’s internment. I’d barely made it through the ceremony, knowing that all these strangers were watching me. I refused to allow them to be present when his precious body was laid forever in the cold ground. That moment belonged to me. Hearing footsteps behind me, an outstretched hand came over my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned to find Henry, standing beside me with tears collecting in his eyes.

  “May I carry Connor for you?” His voice cracked as he worked hard to hold back his emotions. His objective for the day was to lend me his strength. He wouldn’t be happy if I had to console him.

  I stood with tears streaming down my face and managed to reply, “Would you please?” My face began to feel strained as I tried to refrain from crying, but I wailed out in utter despair when I stepped forward and leaned across my tiny son’s casket, pushing the blanket of roses off onto the floor.

  “My baby. My son.”

  The sounds of the chapel door closing behind me shook the panes of the stained glass panels. Tommy was adamant about maintaining my privacy, despite my father’s party planning. He appeared at my left side and grabbed hold of my hands. They trembled as I embraced the dark stained wood.

  “We’re going to make it through this. Just let it out Julia. No one is here, but us. Say your goodbyes.”

  He had given me the permission I needed to unload the world from my shoulders. Henry moved to my right and grasped my waist. I could hear their muffled sniffles as my sobbing came and went.

  I had cried for so long and so hard that I suddenly found myself quieted and at peace just holding the coffin. I didn’t know how to let it go. I wasn’t sure I could, knowing that the next step was to tangibly let them put him in the soil that was calling him to rest.

  Tommy slowly loosened my fingers from the casket and I stepped back slowly. My body felt weak and I started to fall, but Henry caught my waist and sat me down in the pew.

  Sitting beside me, my brother whispered, “Connor’s with Mom, Julia. She’s looking out for him. He’s at peace. He feels only joy in the presence of God.”

  “Screw your joy and peace.”

  Tommy knew the importance of forward progress. “We should finish the service now, okay?”

  Waiting for my approval, I could only offer a nod. There were no words for this. He walked back to the chapel door and opened it, asking the funeral home workers to carry the flowers to the grave. I waited and watched as they removed the countless flowers and sprays that lined the altar and aisles. When they collected the last one, I stood of my own volition and drew a long strong breath. Tommy extinguished the candles and the chapel became dark. I could have stayed in that dark chapel with my son all day.

  Henry walked forward to the small coffin and lifted it off the stand. I could still smell the incense burning that Tommy had used during the Mass. We processed into the day- Tommy, then Henry holding Jackson’s son, with me staggering behind.

  The last time I had made this walk was to bury my mom. Parents should die before their children. We’re programmed to expect this through old age or illness. No parent should suffer the loss of a child. Grieving a child is unnatural. No mom or dad should have to place a piece of their own heart in the ground. My son was my heart. He was my future. I was as good as dead inside.

  The walk felt long, but the cemetery garden sat just behind the chapel through an iron gate, which the funeral director held open for us. Large mature crepe myrtles sat at the four corners of the space. My father had planted cypress hedges around the exterior so people couldn’t see him mourning my mother. I grew up thinking that he was emotionally twisted because of this, but I was now thankful for the privacy. In the center stood a beautiful fountain and an old weeping willow, whose feathery branches relayed a sense of peace. The sound of the water was calming as I approached the grave. My mother was buried on the left and Connor would rest to her right. I had requested no tent or chairs. I didn’t want others to feel invited to attend this goodbye.

  Henry placed Connor on his grave and then walked toward me, grabbing my hand. The throbbing in my chest made me feel as if my heart would explode through my skin. With my legs beginning to fail me, I could barely hear Tommy. The tight hold I had on Henry’s hand was slipping.

  “Get her a chair, now,” Henry barked at the workers. Within a minute, one materialized under me and he was pushing me gently down. A beautiful red cardinal caught my attention as it rested on one of the tree limbs that hung over Connor’s sacred space. Seeing such beauty distracted my sorrows for a brief moment. My hearing slowly returned for the final Amen.

  Tommy walked over and held out his hand to urge me up on my feet. Handing me a rose, he took the lead in placing one on Connor’s coffin. I held the white rose, unable to release it, but Henry covertly opened my fingers and I watched it slowly fall to the wood below.

  “Let’s go, Julia,” Tommy insisted, pulling me away as I protested.

  “I want to stay for this.” I turned back toward Connor.

  “No. You can come back later. Let’s go greet your guests and get a bite to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Come now, Jewels,” Henry ins
tructed, holding my hand and pulling me to him.

  They were trying to protect me from what was coming next. They would lower my sweet baby’s body into the dark depths of the dirt and no one he loved would be keeping watch. I would give in for now, while I was under their scrutiny. The funeral director offered a simple condolence before we walked in silence back to face the guests I hadn’t invited.

  The house was overflowing with people I didn’t know. It felt like a bad socialite party- terrible company, insincere sentiments, and lots of empty promises. As we approached the front steps, Henry squeezed my hand and then vanished into the crowd. I felt many hands touch me as I passed and words were exchanged that I paid little attention to. I simply didn’t care. All I could do was shake my head as a thank you for what I assumed were kind words. Hopefully, people knew better than to engage me with questions that required a true response.

  I finally made my way to the guest bathroom and locked the door behind me. The mirror portrayed a grotesque picture. My face looked unrecognizable. The person looking back at me was so full of misery and sadness. I had never allowed myself such moments of heartache in the past. I was a pick herself up by the bootstraps kind of girl- a mentality drilled into my head by my father. My nose and cheeks were a blistering red and my eyes were swollen from crying. Turning away from that stranger in the glass, I slid down the door until finding a resting place on the floor. I began the comforting practice of counting ceramic tiles. For some reason, counting eased my anxiety. I had a good five minutes alone before people started knocking to either use the toilet or perhaps look for me- probably the toilet. Truly, no one wanted to be here.

  Reaching up, I grabbed the marble vanity and pulled myself vertical. That same strange woman was eyeing me again. Turning on the faucet, I splashed my face with cold water and then pulled out the hair pin, allowing my long dark curls to provide some shelter from the staring eyes beyond this safe room. I could do this. For a few more hours, I could keep it together.