by Harper Bliss
“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” I wouldn’t give Megan the satisfaction of not coming up with a great response to her inappropriate question. “We definitely have a vibe. She makes me laugh, and makes me feel good about myself, and makes me want to do nice things for her, and be there for her. And when she kissed me, it was the hardest thing ever to not just kiss her back, but I respect her too much to have just reciprocated. And yes, I’m smitten. I will gladly admit to that. Because why the hell wouldn’t I be? Laura is a beautiful, sensitive, sweet, very talented woman.”
“Okay. Okay.” Megan breaks out into a grin. “I get it. You’ve made your case. You have my blessing to pine for her a little while longer. But if she hurts you, she’ll have me to deal with.”
“Not that I need your blessing for anything just because we shared a womb, but thanks for looking out for me.”
“That’s what family is for.”
“And babysitting,” I add.
“That goes without saying.” Megan winks at me and, again, I think of Laura, who, in a few days’ time, will be burying the one remaining family member she cared for.
Twenty-One
Laura
Rachel has come down from Chicago for Aunt Milly’s funeral. Apart from her, at the service at the cemetery, the only people I know better than as a mere acquaintance or a familiar face from around town, are Tess, her family, Mary from the café, Myriam and Isabella, and a few locals I’ve been doing some work for. Still, the turn-out for Aunt Milly’s send-off is numerous and, though it hardly still matters now, I think that would have pleased her.
When I made arrangements for the service, the minister asked if I wanted to say a few words, but I declined the offer. I’d rather say goodbye in silence. The way I did when Tracy died. Her funeral was one of the most harrowing times of my life. People who didn’t know what had happened saw me as the grieving widow, while her family and friends saw me as her killer. I counted myself in the second group.
Burying Aunt Milly today, makes me think about death again, and about how fragile life is. One wrong step, and it can be over and done with. When you’ve seen the life drain out of someone’s eyes right in front of you, and when you’ve caused that to happen, and have come face-to-face with how breakable the human body can be, it changes everything. At least Aunt Milly lived a full, long life. No matter what Tracy did to me, I took that away from her. I robbed her of a future. I robbed her parents of a child.
I should be listening to what the minister is saying, but I’ve become so averse to words spoken by clerical folks, I don’t really care what he has to say. It’s the same old stuff anyway. God this, Jesus that. What did God do with Tracy when she came knocking on heaven’s door? Did he let her in? Forgive her for her earthly sins and take her into his divine embrace? My father said this to me after I came out to him. If you repent, and don’t give in to your unnatural urges, God will embrace you. But it was not God’s embrace I was after. It was his.
I look to my left. Rachel has slotted her arm through mine, and she has a solemn expression on her face. I try to get her attention by looking at her a fraction too long. I need to let someone know how much this funeral is messing with my head. How much it’s bringing everything that’s not right in my life together in my mind. But Rachel keeps staring at the coffin, her face stoic and serene. I try Tess on my right. Sweet Tess, who, after my little breakdown, took me home to share a meal with her family, and showed me what family is really about.
I don’t know if she’d somehow prompted him, but Earl told the story of when Tess came out of the closet and his and his wife’s reaction to that.
“We always knew. We were basically just waiting for Tessie to tell us. We didn’t want to force that out of her.” That was it. No drama. No guilt. No penance required to merit the embrace of God.
This makes me think of that short but awkward phone call with my mother again. And how glad I am that my father was too busy to attend his only sister’s funeral. Pastor Baker only has time to lead a service for people he’s not related to by blood.
How much longer is this going to take? I need to make it through this. Then through the funeral reception at the house which, now, is legally mine. I own a house in Nelson, Texas. I’ve never owned any property before. I take a deep breath and focus on the minister. Does he have children? What would he say to them if one of them came out as gay? Would he crush them in that most vulnerable time of their life? Or offer them God’s embrace through his?
In the distance, I see a car approach. A black town car of the sort you seldom see in Nelson. It looks like a vehicle a mobster would drive. It inches closer and stops where the road ends, parking behind the funeral home’s hearse. Classy, I think, though I am intrigued as to who would do such a thing. Who would drive up here in the middle of a service and park in the middle of the street?
When the car doors open, even before I catch a glimpse of who’s about to come out, I know. It’s them. It can only be them. A moment later my suspicion is confirmed. With their heads held high, as though they didn’t just arrive at a funeral in the most disrespectful manner—and half an hour late—Richard and Phyllis Baker approach.
“Who’s that?” Tess whispers in my ear. “Do you know them?”
“I wish I didn’t, but I do.” I take another deep breath. “They’re my parents.”
A buzz of whisperings passes through the crowd as the Bakers approach. They stop just outside the circle of people. Inadvertently, I find my father’s gaze. Does he even recognize me? He gives me a slow nod, his features unreadable. I guess he does. I give him a hard stare back, then look away.
“Are you all right?” Tess whispers in my ear.
I don’t even know what to say to that.
From my left, Rachel inquires, “Are they who I think they are?” Already, indignation is the main note in her voice.
I nod, hoping to answer both their questions at once.
The priest is unperturbed by the goings-on, and finishes the sermon. When everybody says ‘Amen’ I can hear my father’s voice the loudest.
* * *
After the service ends, I don’t know what to do. So I just stand there a while longer, accepting people’s condolences with a meek smile on my face. But I can’t keep my eyes off them. Their presence hangs over me like the darkest cloud. Oh, how I regret making that call now.
“You don’t have to talk to them,” Rachel says. “You don’t owe them a goddamn thing.”
“Would you like me to go over?” Tess points at them with her thumb, as though they’re a mere nuisance to be dealt with. They are. “I can talk to them.”
“It’s fine. Just give me a minute.”
“Do you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” Rachel asks.
This elicits a nervous chuckle from Tess.
I extract myself from our circle of three and head over though, as I do, I fear my legs may give way. When I reach them, my father, typically, has already found an opportunity to talk to the minister, so I don’t say anything. I wait until he catches a glimpse of me.
“Laura.” He opens his arms wide, as if he wants to give me a hug. “Laura, my daughter.” To my relief, he doesn’t go for a fully-fledged hug, he just touches his palms to my shoulders lightly. But it’s still too much.
“Please, don’t touch me.” At least my voice is still working.
“Laura,” my mother, the woman who couldn’t bring herself to say anything of importance to me on the phone when I called her, says, “we came.” She says it as though they made the biggest sacrifice, flying out here and renting that ludicrous car.
“You’re a bit late.”
“Through no fault of our own. Our flight was delayed,” my mother says.
I feel like walking away from her there and then without saying another word. Why would I waste any of my time talking to someone who can’t even say sorry for arriving late at a funeral?
“We’re very sorry about that, Laura,” my father says. “Sadl
y, Millicent and I hadn’t been on very good terms for a while, but I do know she was always a stickler for punctuality. We should have booked an earlier flight.”
“Is there a reception?” my mother asks. Her face is turned toward me but she doesn’t look straight at me. Her glance shoots right past.
If I had known they’d be coming, I would not have done it at the house. “Yes.”
“We only have a few hours. We need to catch a flight out of Houston tonight,” my father says.
“I’m sure this is all very inconvenient for you,” I say.
That shuts them both up for a minute.
“Look, Laura,” my father starts to say. “We would love to get a chance to—”
“Hey,” someone shouts from the side of the road, “can someone move this black sedan? It’s blocking everyone’s way.”
“Oh, heavens. I told you, Richard,” my mother says.
“I have to go.” I start turning away from them. “People will start arriving at the house soon. Just follow the crowd.”
I walk back to where Tess and Rachel are standing. Tess’s family has joined them.
“Are those your folks?” Earl asks.
“Afraid so.” For some reason, I can’t look him in the eyes when I say this. I’m ashamed of them. Is that how they feel about me?
“Are they coming to yours?” Tess asks, her voice full of concern.
“Yep.”
“We’ll meet you all there, okay?” Tess addresses her family.
When it’s just her, me, and Rachel left, she asks, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I just shrug because, inside, I feel as dead as Aunt Milly’s body in the coffin we just watched being lowered into the ground.
Twenty-Two
Tess
At the house, Rachel and I try to hover around Laura as much as possible, but it’s inevitable that she gets drawn into conversations with friends of Milly, the manager of the nursing home and, at one point, what appears to be a long talk with Myriam and Isabella.
I have my own social courtesies to adhere to as I know most of the people present in Laura’s house much better than she does. But, from the corner of my eye, I watch her and conclude that, even though she doesn’t perceive herself that way, she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. To go through today with the dignity that she has takes courage and a whole load of strength of character.
No thanks to them, I think, as I glance over at Laura’s parents who awkwardly sit on a couple of chairs. Why did they even come here?
“Refill?” Rachel asks, holding up a bottle of red wine.
“Gladly.” I offer her my empty glass. I’m so happy she’s here, staying with Laura through this ordeal. I watch her make the rounds, most people gratefully accepting her offer to top up their drinks.
“Booze and funerals go hand in hand,” she says, after she’s emptied the bottle.
“Not for everyone.” Laura hasn’t touched a drop.
“True enough.” Rachel nods. “Though Lord knows she could use a drink.”
“She sure could.” Our gazes meet and we exchange a knowing look. I remember what Laura said to me when she told me about Tracy, that Rachel was the only person who knew what went on between Tracy and her. “She told me,” I say in a low voice. “I know what happened with Tracy.”
Rachel is silent for an instant, as though considering her words. “It was a tragedy. And I don’t just mean her death. I mean the whole thing, the entire marriage.” Rachel shakes her head. “If it had been up to me, Tracy’s family would have found out exactly what kind of person their daughter was, but Laura wouldn’t have any of that. ‘What does it matter now?’ she asked. I thought it mattered a great deal, but I also understood that she was ashamed. With what she’s been through,” she lets some air escape from between her teeth, “I have no fucking clue how she picked herself up. Moving here has helped. I can see that. She has more confidence about her. When I arrived here, she even gave me a real, genuine smile. One from the heart. One that showed that moving here has been the right decision for her. Though I miss her like crazy.” Rachel gives me what I interpret as an appreciative once-over. “And then there’s you.”
“And then there’s me.” It’s silly to repeat the phrase, but it’s all I can do while my heart skips a beat. Did Laura talk to Rachel about me?
“She told me about that kiss, by the way.” Rachel is beaming a big smile at me now, then just rambles on. “Either way, I’ve heard her mention the name Tess over the phone so many times, I just had to come to Nelson and see for myself.”
“She, er, has mentioned me?” My cheeks are starting to heat up.
“Of course she has. What else is she going talk about? The new movie in the multiplex and the new art show at the Nelson Museum of Modern Art?” Rachel narrows her eyes. “She has feelings for you, Tess. That’s clear as day. I already knew that before I arrived here, and my suspicions have only been confirmed, but she needs time. It’s only natural for her to be afraid. Tracy was a perfectly nice woman when they met. I was Laura’s maid of honor at their wedding, for Christ’s sake. I signed my name on a goddamned piece of paper to approve their union.”
“We’re friends.” I find myself repeating the phrase over and over again. It’s starting to get old.
“She may have feelings for you, but you might have to be friends for quite some time before anything else can happen. You’re going to have to win her trust and then some. So she’d better be worth the wait to you.”
Rachel is starting to make me feel as though I’m auditioning for the part of Laura’s girlfriend. “I get it,” is say a tad defensively. “Trust me, I get it.”
“I didn’t mean to give you a speech, Tess. Laura is strong, but we all have a breaking point. I’m not sure how much more she can take.”
“My ears were ringing so loudly, I just had to come over and break up this let’s-discuss-Laura party,” Laura says.
I’d been so engaged in conversation with Rachel, that I didn’t see her approach.
“We’re only looking out for you.” Rachel wraps an arm around Laura’s shoulder and pulls her close. This is the most at ease I’ve seen Laura, when she’s around Rachel.
Laura gives a sheepish smile, then looks over to the chairs where her parents are sitting. “I’d better go do this,” she says. “Get it over with.” She eyes my glass of wine longingly.
Rachel doesn’t say anything, though she must see this as well.
“Need some liquid courage?” I ask.
“You know what?” Laura says. “Yes, I do. Today of all days, I do.”
I offer her my glass, but before she can take it, Rachel says, “Are you sure?”
Laura just nods, takes the glass and brings it to her lips. After she’s taken a sip, she asks, “Can I hold on to this?”
“Sure.”
“Here I go,” she says, and walks off. Before she reaches her parents, she’s accosted by a few people saying their goodbyes.
“I hope this ends well.” Rachel glances at Laura, then looks back at me. “I was with her on the night Tracy died. We’d been out and, over a few drinks—a few too many perhaps—she talked about leaving Tracy for the first time. She’d needed a lot of liquid courage for that as well. Then… she didn’t need to leave her anymore.”
“I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”
“Honestly, to me, it felt like a relief,” Rachel says. “Maybe I’m not supposed to say that about a woman who died well before her time, but by God, what she put Laura through. And who knows what it would have taken Laura to actually leave her? Tracy might have ended up killing her first.”
I’m taken aback by Rachel’s forwardness. “It was a complex situation.”
Rachel shakes her head vehemently. “There was nothing complex about it. After they married, Tracy turned into a controlling, abusive monster. She terrorized Laura. Scolded her for the smallest things. She beat her, Tess. Broke one of her ribs one day.
The woman was a two-faced psychopath. Maybe nobody else knows, but I do.”
I see my mother coming over, and clear my throat to warn Rachel. A change of subject is required pronto.
“Hey, hon,” Mom says. “We’re going to take off. Aunt Margaret is minding the kids and you know she can only handle them in small doses. Megan and Scott will stick around for a while.”
I introduce her to Rachel, who promptly gets an invitation to dinner—not to be refused—while my gaze wanders to Laura. She’s talking to Elizabeth Jansen, Milly’s oldest friend in Nelson, so she might not make it over to her parents in a good long while. The glass of wine I gave her is empty now.
Make them wait, I think. Laura waited long enough.
Twenty-Three
Laura
When I finally reach my parents, I’ve had another refill of wine, and after so many months without a drop of alcohol, I’ve almost finished my second glass of the day. I haven’t eaten much; my appetite went as soon as the black sedan showed up. So the alcohol has gone straight to my head, which I consider a good thing. I don’t feel much like doing this sober.
“You would love a chance to what?” I ask my father, who looks like a fidgety shadow of the mighty Pastor Baker. “I’m giving you a chance to finish that sentence, so there you go.”
“Can we speak somewhere privately?” my mother asks.
I want to contest her, just because I can, but quite frankly, I’d much rather have this conversation without Tess and Rachel lurking in the other corner of the room.
“Follow me.” I lead them to the patio outside. It’s a muggy day and the black blouse I bought for the occasion sticks to my back instantly, as though I’ve just stepped into a vacuum-sealed room instead of the early Texas summer.
We sit around the table, me with my back to the garden, though I could use the sight of some greenery and the memories of Aunt Milly it inspires.