by F. E. Arliss
It would seem that you could be openly labeled “crazy” in a tiny town if you were different in some way - and that could be in a good way, or a bad way. Either would suffice for the “crazy” label. This simply brought home to Zhara how really prejudiced people could be about things that were different, even if that very difference was something they secretly desired for themselves. Zhara was sure her nephew would have liked to have more of the things they’d enjoyed together in the past. It hadn’t stopped him from labeling those things in a derogatory way to people who would never have them, in order to fit in to this tiny town.
The only thing that Zhara’s eyes kept wandering back to during the day was her sister Victoria and cousin Paula. It made Zhara feel so depressed that Victoria, always outspoken - usually in a manipulative, crazy-person sort of way - was completely quiet. She didn’t have even a spark of her old troubled-waters-stirring way about her. She was flat and expressionless. It was sad. Frontotemporal dementia was not easy to watch progress.
The day wore on. The funeral went by without a hitch. Nothing seemed to stand out except for the deceit of the entire process. People waxed poetic about Sue Darla’s loving spirit and sense of community.
Well, Zhara supposed, that was all true. Sue Darla definitely had a loving spirit, as long as you were a man. Zhara had had to drag her mother out of an elevator one time when she’d visited because a recently widowed, good-looking and athletically inclined retiree had joined them on the elevator. Her mother had launched herself at him, cradling his face in her hands and raining kisses over his cheeks. When this didn’t stop after a few seconds, Zhara had simply dragged her mother, arms still clinging to the elderly man, out of the elevator and down the hall.
Sue Darla was kind. It was a weird phenomenon and one that allowed abuses of all types to continue. Predators could be kind - they weren’t all bad. Their victims, usually young and vulnerable, wanted to see the good in them. So they did.
Sue Darla had turned into a different type of sexual predator than her original abuser had been. It didn’t change the fact that she was a predator. In this state, she’d shaped warped values in her daughters and students, and spread discord and the acceptance of perversion through another generation.
The entire funeral was a charade of major proportions. Sue Darla’s character was lauded, when in truth, she’d been a twisted, sick individual with a very few redeeming traits. In a town where perversion was normal, it only took one decent trait to redeem a person.
It sickened Zhara to hear all the wonderful speeches about her mother. She wanted to stand up and shout, “My mother was an incest survivor. Her father raped her over and over and over. This twisted her into a sick individual who could only relate to the world through sex. Your views of her are deceit of the worst kind, because all of you know she was an awful person but you latch onto the one normal thing she had to make a smokescreen hiding her illnesses. You are all liars. You are all guilty.”
Zhara was guilty too. She could have stood up and said those things, but she didn’t out of concern for her sisters - not out of respect for her sisters. Respect would have ensured that she stood up and said those things. Concern and concern for their wishes, silenced her. She was just as complicit as some of the others who lauded her mother, even if it was just through silence.
She had no longer loved her mother, but she still hoped to discover who had murdered her. It was getting late and despair that it was possible was setting in.
The huge number of funeral attendees trickled out of the funeral home and drove away in their myriad pickup trucks or SUVs. Zhara let Beatriz escort her to the car and sat silent as Basilio pulled the big Mercedes out of the parking lot and took up position at the head of the procession of cars headed to the cemetery. Only in the rural midwest would there be a police escort for the funeral of someone like Sue Darla Dubbins. Zhara marveled at the farce. Her mother would have loved it.
As the Mercedes slid silently along behind the hearse, Zhara simply felt numb. Her mother was dead and she was no closer to finding the killer than she had been when Officer Moron arrested her.
At the cemetery, Beatriz helped Zhara slip on a pair of flat-soled boots, rather that the delicate shoes she’d worn for the funeral service. As the rest of the procession of cars pulled up and spilled their passengers onto the damp grass of the country cemetery, Zhara was able to watch the people meandering across the plots towards the green tent that had been set up beside the open grave.
Standing, she strode through the grass to Victoria’s side. “How are you, dear?” Zhara asked her sister. Cousin Paula, absent for the first time, was not hovering protectively at Victoria’s side.
“How do you think I am?” Victoria said tartly, glaring at Zhara. “I’ve got a brain disease that is supposed to kill me in a few years. Doctor isn’t right, though. There’s nothing wrong with my brain,” she added, an aggressive tone to her voice. Then Victoria laughed, “You should see your face!” She giggled happily for having gotten a startle response out of Zhara.
Zhara, so delighted to see the spark of manipulative glee that lit her sister’s face, hugged Victoria and said, “I can see that there isn’t anything wrong with your brain at all.” They both grinned, then proceeded across the grass towards the grave.
“Old bitch is finally dead,” Victoria said, looking at the grave, her eyes welling with tears. “Paula says I shouldn’t be sad. Mother was terrible.”
“That she was,” Zhara sighed. “But it’s still weirdly sad.”
“I haven’t been able to cry,” Victoria said, sniffling. “Paula won’t hear of it.”
Zhara quirked an eyebrow at her sister. “Paula can’t always get what she wants. Especially when it comes to emotions. Those aren’t hers to control,” she said quietly to Victoria.
“What are you two whispering about?” A sharp voice queried them from behind. Paula had returned, sneaking up behind them in an attempt to hear their conversation.
“Oh, nothing much,” Zhara said with a polite smile. “Just catching up.”
“About what?” Paula queried again, her eyes boring into Victoria and then returning to glare at Zhara.
“Butt out, Paula,” Zhara said bluntly. “I can talk to my sister about anything I want and it’s simply not your business.” She held the older woman’s eyes in challenge.
Zhara watched with interest as a flush of red ran up Paula’s neck and a vein twitched erratically in her right temple.
“Everything about your sister’s care is my business!” Paula stated, her tone just short of an angry screech.
“I believe you told the family you weren’t “taking care of her”,” Zhara stated calmly. “You told Lulu Mae that there was nothing wrong with Victoria and therefore she didn’t need your care. So which is it, then?” Zhara asked, an innocently curious look on her face. “If there’s nothing wrong, then everything is not your business.”
Paula’s eyes narrowed and the vein pulsed faster. “You watch yourself, missy,” she hissed. Then pulling Victoria sharply behind her, she marched the two of them to the grave side and shoved Victoria into a chair in front of the casket.
Zhara watched fascinated. “Wow, talk about control issues,” Beatriz whispered behind her. “She looked like she wanted to kill you.”
“She did, didn’t she?” Zhara answered, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “Look at Victoria now. It’s like the life had been sucked right back out of her. She was her old self a moment ago when Paula was gone. Now she’s just this cowed, half-dead woman with no expression. I don’t think that this change is caused by the dementia. I think this flatness is caused by Paula and her control issues.”
“I never would have thought my sister would be so easily dominated by another,” Zhara said sadly. “She’s a nut. But she was always a smart, manipulative nut. I sometimes thought she just wanted someone in life who could be smarter than her. Out “brain-screw” her to be crude about it. It’s why she wanted to convert
to Judaism. She wanted a religion that she couldn’t talk her way out of and she wanted to be dominated and told what to do. It’s the only way she thought she could totally relax and let go. That’s what Paula’s doing for her now,” Zhara theorized quietly to Beatriz.
“Paula may not be smarter, but she is more manipulative. Victoria can pretend to be sicker than she is, let Paula dominate her, and relax completely. It’s sad,” Zhara said, her voice glum. “What a piss poor choice to make at the end of your life. Relax into the most manipulative, sick person you know. Truly revoltingly depressing.”
“I suppose,” Zhara mused quietly to Beatriz, “that the incest, if it began when she was very young, would have been much the same. Grandpa probably said things like, I love you and you’re my special girl - all that drivel that pedophiles talk to their victims. It would have made Victoria compliant and still made her feel special. It’s so horribly sad.”
Zhara continued on to the tent, took a seat in the last row and watched numbly as her mother’s casket was lowered into the ground. There was nothing more for her here. She would never return to this place. Ever. Again.
Chapter Eighteen
Reception for the Death...and the Murderer
“Only one more hour, my Lady and we’ll be able to drive away from here,” Beatriz assured Zhara.
Zhara looked decidedly worn out. Dark circles showed beneath her usually vibrant blue eyes and the corners of her mouth turned down in a look of pure emotional exhaustion. Haggard grooves had appeared to bracket her nose and mouth and she looked, for the first time, far older than her age.
They were on the way to Lulu Mae’s house for a final post-funeral drink, snack and the required good-byes. Even Basilio was in a hurry to get away from this area. He’d never seen his mother so concerned for the Lady and he’d never seen the Lady so downcast. For the first time, she looked old. It was unsettling.
Zhara nodded at Beatriz and smiled slightly. “This was harder work than I thought it would be.”
“One can never be fully prepared to face the ghosts of the past,” Beatriz said in her usual sage way, nodding agreement to her own sentiment.
Zhara smiled again and said, “You are a wise woman. Promise me we will never have to come back here ever again.”
“Never again. I promise, my Lady,” Beatriz said fervent in her intent.
“Ever!” Basilio echoed from the front seat. He rarely spoke so this was enough to cause Zhara to burst out with a small laugh, cheering them all.
The house in the best neighborhood in town, which always made Zhara want to roll her eyes, as the entire town was so tiny it shouldn’t even be said to have neighborhoods, was packed with family and close friends of Sue Darla. All Zhara wanted to do was say goodbye, take a shower to wash off the stench of this horrendous place and get the hell out of Dodge.
Zhara wove her way towards Lulu Mae. She was flanked on one side by Elizabeth, who glowered at Zhara as she approached. “Nice to see you too, Elizabeth,” Zhara said. Then added, “The plastic surgeon did a great job, by the way. Your neck looks fantastic!”
Elizabeth slammed down her drink on the kitchen counter behind her. At the same time Lulu Mae’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Elizabeth in astonishment. Victoria, who’d been seated on a bar stool and hovered over by Paula, burst out laughing. Her usual self clearly evident in the joy she was taking from Elizabeth’s plastic surgery exposure.
“I have not had plastic surgery!”Elizabeth snarled angrily.
Victoria laughed harder, “Oh, you so have,” she chortled. Zhara saw a smile ghost across Paula’s face. She was enjoying Elizabeth’s discomfort too much not to let it show.
Elizabeth shoved her face forward into Zhara’s and growled, spittle flying, “Like you haven’t had work!”
“Yep! Totally,” Zhara agreed. “Though just injectables and lasers. I haven’t been so desperate that I had someone staple my neck up behind my ears yet!” Zhara wasn’t sure why she was letting fly with these ridiculous statements, though true they were. Maybe she’d shake a murderer out of a tree. Maybe she was just letting old patterns get the best of her. Frankly, she was too tired to care.
Elizabeth’s face flushed red as a beet, as she stalked off angrily. “I had no idea,” Lulu Mae said, astonishment in her voice.
“Are you blind or what?” Victoria crowed. “She looked like a walnut last time she was home and now she’s smooth as a baby’s bottom. What did you think happened? She used a cream?” Victoria’s tone was sardonic and disbelieving.
Zhara watched with interest as Paula placed a hand on Victoria’s shoulder and squeezed, hard. Victoria subsided into the barstool she sat on like a rag doll with it’s stuffing removed.
The change was so noticeable that even Lulu Mae saw it. Glancing over at Zhara with a frown she said slowly, “You’re not nearly as sick as Paula’s been saying, are you?”
“I told you I wasn’t sick,” Victoria said tartly. Paula squeezed her shoulder almost viciously. This time Victoria winced.
Lulu Mae, finally understanding what was going on and letting her old maternal instinct flare, said, “Paula, quit hurting my sister! What are you doing? You’re telling her to shut up by pinching the crap out of her! What is your problem?”
Then, turning her gaze to Victoria, she added, “Why are you letting her do this? You’re far too intelligent to let Paula control you. What are you doing?”
“Answer me, someone!” Lulu Mae demanded. As the voices in the kitchen rose, Elizabeth returned. Her shame at having her face-lift discovered fading as her curiosity overwhelmed her anger.
“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked, looking at Lulu Mae with a frown.
“I’m not sure, but Victoria isn’t nearly as sick as she and Paula have been letting on. Victoria was starting to say things, like her old crazy-ass manipulative self, and Paula practically twisted her shoulder off trying to get her to shut up. She was physically trying to hurt Victoria into being quiet,” Lulu Mae explained, her eyebrows squeezed together in thought.
“I don’t think Victoria should be living with Paula,” Lulu Mae said suddenly and quite loudly. “I think she’s abusing Victoria to get her to do what she wants. I think Victoria should come live with me.”
Zhara almost shook her head in frustration, then let it go. Lulu Mae was too ingrained in wanting to be the “good” daughter and now automatically needed someone else to take care of in order to prove her worth.
Elizabeth, always up for a competition said, “Paula, why should Victoria stay with you instead of coming to Lulu Mae’s house? Especially now that Mother is gone?”
Zhara simply watched. All these manipulators together were doing a fine job of getting to the bottom of Victoria’s silence and Paula’s control. She didn’t seem to need to do anything. All she had to do was toss some petrol on Elizabeth’s flame and boom! All hell was breaking loose.
“No one will take Victoria away from me!” Paula stated, her voice hard and slightly scary with an edge of sheer madness.
“It’s not your decision to make,” Lulu Mae informed Paula haughtily, a hint of her old “tough attorney” schtick appearing. Zhara wanted to applaud, then decided to just go ahead and do it.
Clapping her hands loudly, she urged Lulu Mae, “You go girl! Tell her who she’s dealing with! You’re not the daughter of Sue Darla Dubbins for nothing!” Lulu Mae grinned back at her.
Elizabeth glaring at Zhara, had to agree. “It’s true Paula. It’s not your decision to make. We’re her sisters, if she needs care, she can tell us. Not you!”
Ah, the wonders of competition, Zhara thought. She watched Elizabeth take a deep breath, oh, here it comes, she thought. Elizabeth is going to let Paula know all about how much better the two of them can care for Victoria.
Sure enough Elizabeth said, “Lulu Mae has a Certified Nursing Assistant’s license. Which is far more than you have, Paula. Nor do you have any sort of legal power of attorney, Lulu checked. She is a lawyer,
you know?” Elizabeth added this last bit in the condescending tone she’d always used when trying to better one of her sisters. It had the same effect on Paula that it had always had on them. Paula descended into rage.
Slapping Victoria across the face Paula hissed, “See what you’ve done, you stupid, stupid dirty Jew.”
Lulu Mae gasped. Elizabeth was shocked into silence for a change. Victoria crumpled, crying, leaning towards Paula and desperately trying to cling to Paula’s arms.
This was what happened when incest made such a mess of children’s lives...abuse was comforting, a show of love. Victoria just wanted to be loved, even if it was abusively. So sad. The most pathetic thing was that incest was everywhere. Sexual abuse was everywhere. People still kept quiet about it, shame driving them to silence. Even scarier, in families like this one, it was so prevalent that it was almost accepted as normal. It was sick. It had to stop. Zhara felt overwhelmed with sadness, then shook herself out of it.