Dahlia remembered that she didn’t want anything to interfere with her double dip of lemon custard, so she’d snapped at her brother and sister.
“Jazz, hush up now or Mama gonna take us back home and we won’t get anything. Livy, give Jazz back his train. Mama, are you going to get some ice cream, too?”
But Reva had stopped talking, and Dahlia didn’t want to upset her any further by running her mouth, so she tried to enjoy the ride until she realized that they were a long way from home and had already driven past Swensons. Reva’s driving became erratic, and the car seemed to be going faster, but no one noticed except her.
“Mama. Mama, where are we going? I thought we were getting ice cream.” And still no answer. Jazz looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. Livia began to cry. Dahlia rocked back and forth in the car. Oh, Jesus, this wasn’t just a nightmare.
“Mommy,” Jazz called in a singsong voice. “Mommy.”
Reva stopped the car near the tracks on the corner of Corinth and Elm and eventually turned to face them. “Hey, baby doll,” she said with a smile, “how about I take y’all to see a real live choo-choo train?”
“Yeah!” Jazz squealed. He was so excited, but Dahlia knew that something wasn’t right. She didn’t feel well. Her stomach was in knots, and her mother wouldn’t talk to her anymore. She wanted her father, and she wanted to go home. Jazz was the first one to see the train, Livy cried softly, and Reva rolled the windows down. “The air from the tornado needs to flow through,” she said, to no one in particular. Wind whipped through the car, and Dahlia yelled for Livy to hold on to something. “Mama, roll up the windows,” Dahlia shouted, “or Sophea’s going to get us.”
“No, this is cool,” Jazz screamed at the top of his lungs, as one of his toy trains flew out the rear window. Reva started the car, and it didn’t take long for Dahlia to realize where she was going.
“Mama, what are you doing?” Dahlia yelled. “Mama, noooo!”
Time paused and continued and paused again while Dahlia watched the destruction of her family in slow motion. She’d reached back and tried in vain to grab her baby sister’s arm, and then Livy was gone in seconds, snatched through the windshield like a rag doll. She never saw what happened to Jazz. She only heard him calling for her, crying for his daddy. The tornado was all around them, pushing and pulling—hissing sweet nothings in her ears. It didn’t hate her, it chided. It was only doing what it was supposed to do. She could hear the siren blaring in the background, and she thought about her family. Did her father miss them? And did he know they were gone? She wondered if she’d feel pain when she died, and if there was lemon custard ice cream in heaven. She wondered if she’d ever see Livy and Jazz again, and if God was going to punish her mother. She hoped that he would. She thought about Aunt Baby and hoped Oceola Moon was waiting for them on the other side.
Dahlia braced herself for impact and covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t stand to see any more, and for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what hit them first—Sophea or the Amtrak train. She screamed for them all, and then it was over.
Lucius couldn’t sit still anymore. He paced back and forth in his office, aware that Michael’s eyes were trained on him. He had already said so much, and he didn’t think there was anything more to add, but there was a question in Michael’s eyes, and Lucius wasn’t prepared to answer it.
“Mr. Culpepper, why? How?” Michael was interrupted by an intrusion that Lucius welcomed.
“Come in,” Lucius said, and looked at his brother. “I thought you were going to the airport.”
“I decided to stay here. Percival is picking them up.”
“Percival?” Lucius said, with a raised eyebrow.
Dante looked at his watch. “Their plane landed over an hour and a half ago. They should be here by now.”
“What could be taking them so long?” Michael asked, concerned. Dante and Lucius looked at each other. “It’s been a long time since she’s been back here, Michael,” Lucius answered. “Be patient.”
“Lucius,” Dante said softly.
“We’re done here. Dante can answer any other questions you have. I’m sorry. I have to get some air.”
“Mr. Culpepper,” Michael called after him, but Lucius was gone. He’d had enough, and he didn’t want the boy to see him bawl like a baby. He had to be strong now. His baby doll was on her way home.
Dante sat down in Lucius’s chair and addressed Michael. “I’m sorry if I was rude to you yesterday. There’s been a lot going on here, but that’s no excuse for my behavior.”
“I understand. Apologies aren’t necessary,” Michael offered.
“You have no idea how hard this is for him,” Dante said.
“And you have no idea how hard this has been for my wife and my daughter. I’m starting to understand Dahlia better now. I can see why she is the way she is.”
“Our family was devastated by what happened, and it still is. The day Reva drove those babies in front of that train, we all died in one way or another. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for Dahlia, but I know how impossible it was for my brother.”
“How could he have blamed Dahlia for what happened? What kind of father would do such a thing? Do you—does anybody here have any idea what this has done to her?” Michael countered. “God, how can we come back from this?”
“Michael, I’m not excusing what Lucius did, but he barely survived. Something inside him snapped that day just like Dahlia; he’s never been the same since. None of us have. His whole life since then has been a train wreck. The day of the accident, I went looking for Dahlia and the other kids. I tried to keep my eye on things while Lucius worked because I knew how focused he got. I usually checked on them every couple of hours or so, but that day, I couldn’t find them anywhere. By the time I realized where they were, Reva was halfway down the street with those kids. I ran after them, but she wouldn’t slow down, and I couldn’t catch her. I tried to get a car to stop and help me follow her, but I couldn’t find anybody, so I ran back here. Trees were toppled over, people were screaming, and a house four doors down had been ripped right off its foundation. It was chaos, pure chaos. And by the time I got to Lucius, Reva had—Jesus.
“Anyway, Lucius and I drove like maniacs, and I couldn’t look. Sophea had calmed down by then, but you could tell she’d been there. She left her mark all over Dallas that day. The police wouldn’t allow him anywhere near the wreckage. It took nine of us to hold him back. And then the arrangements had to be made, and he refused to allow anyone to touch Jazz, and my God, Livia was in pieces.” Dante began to weep, but he continued. “She was found two miles away from the scene of the accident. We begged him to send the kids to another mortuary, but he wouldn’t hear of it. They were his babies, he said, and no one else could take care of them like he could. He sent Reva’s remains away, though, to a mortuary on the other side of town. He didn’t care who put her back together, and he didn’t want to see her again even in death. And at first, he wouldn’t even allow her to be interred here with the rest of the family.
“Three days after the accident, while his daughter was still in a coma, Lucius embalmed Jazz and Livia by himself, and Aunt Baby couldn’t convince him otherwise. Morticians aren’t supposed to prepare their own families, for obvious reasons, like doctors aren’t supposed to write their own script. We all thought he had lost his mind, but there was nothing any of us could do. He locked himself in the prep room over there, and we heard “Someday My Prince Will Come” by Miles Davis over and over again for the next forty-eight hours. Till this day, he won’t listen to that record anymore. I can’t imagine doing what he did. I couldn’t have done that—prepared my own family—and walked around the next day or the day after that like nothing ever happened. I think when he blamed Dahlia in the hospital, he was still in some kind of shock. That was over twenty years ago, and he hasn’t spoken about it until now. None of us have.”
“How did he go on after all that? I don’t know how yo
u begin to survive something like that,” Michael said.
“What’s more important here is whether or not he’ll survive the rest of the night.”
Phoebe finally slept, and Dahlia opened her eyes to a life she’d fought hard to get back. It was vivid and alive with possibilities. She felt distinctly different in a way she couldn’t quite articulate and wouldn’t be able to for some time. Her head was free of noise, and the newfound silence felt wrong and awkward. It was foreign to her because it wasn’t what she was accustomed to, but clarity was a beautiful, yet sobering sensation. And she eagerly integrated it with the rest of her fledgling emotions. She began to experience various states of mind almost simultaneously: fear, love, pain, sorrow, and anger. She was caught in an allencompassing whirlwind, and she fought hard to stay grounded. She would not lose control. She was an unfinished masterpiece, an intricate riddle yet to be solved, and still a woman in need of many things to make her whole again.
Her experience was reminiscent of the time she awakened from her coma years earlier. She was surprised that she was able to make that connection. So much was beginning to make sense to her now. Just like she remembered being in a coma, she remembered that her little sister, Livia, liked chocolate, and she remembered that she missed her father after all. And she did have a mother once who combed her hair and read her stories, made her homemade fudge, and held her in the middle of the night when she was scared. Yes, her mother had hurt her once on a December afternoon, but her mother had also loved her the only way she knew how. Reva wanted to end her pain, and Dahlia accepted that all her mother had tried to do was take her babies with her. That was the way she chose to remember Reva, and the decision sat well with her soul. Dahlia recalled a lifetime in a span of eight short minutes, and the knowledge so overwhelmed her that she collapsed under the weight—weight that she’d been carrying for twenty-five years. She placed her face on smooth steel tracks and sobbed for Jazz and Livy. The pain, both emotional and physical, was so intense, so debilitating, that she became paralyzed where she lay. She would never know what went through Reva’s mind that day, and she couldn’t comprehend why she was the only one who lived. She began to lose herself in grief and regret until strong, pale hands lifted her and held her close.
Lucius saw the car coming up the winding driveway and took several deep breaths. He would end his own life right now if it would make his daughter’s any less painful. He was prepared to do whatever she needed him to do to make things right between them, even if it meant cutting his own heart out. Dante squeezed his brother’s shoulder and offered words of encouragement. “You can do this,” he whispered. “We’re all here for you.” Dante walked to his mother and wondered what had happened to Mercy. He hadn’t seen her since they last spoke, and he noticed that her Mercedes was gone.
Michael ran to meet the car. He wanted to be the first person his wife saw. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, and he wanted her to know that he couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through but he’d stand with her until it was over. He had devoted his life to her, and he’d be damned if he’d give up on her now. For Isabel and for his family, he’d stay until Dahlia was well enough to leave.
Dahlia walked out of the car and into Milky’s arms. The house and everything around it was exactly the way it was in her dreams. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. She glanced at Aunt Baby and inhaled the moment. She had lived here once a lifetime ago. She remembered she used to chase her brother around the backyard and play hide-and-seek in the attic with the round window. She remembered how much she loved gumbo and fried green tomatoes. She remembered growing lemon verbena with Aunt Baby and learning to braid her long hair. She saw a man standing tall on the front porch and remembered that, once upon a time, she had a father who adored her and a family who refused to let her die. She remembered the smell of the magnolia trees in spring and her Uncle Brother’s famous grilled cheese sandwiches. And finally she remembered above all else that she was loved and that she still had plenty of love to give.
Exhausted, she released Milky’s hand and walked up the stairs alone to meet her father. “Daddy,” she said, with tears in her eyes, “I’m home.”
“How many times do we have to talk about this? How many different ways can I tell you that my mom played chicken with an Amtrak train and lost?”
“As many times as it takes for you to be cured,” Dr. Kelly asserted.
“I feel fine. I feel better than I have in a long time. I can talk about it now. I know what happened wasn’t my fault.”
“That’s good. How is your father, by the way?”
“He’s okay, I think. He left the mortuary business, you know, and he’s taking up saxophone lessons. Right now, he’s somewhere in Paris wrapping up some unfinished family business.”
“Really? What about his wife—Mercy, is it? Did you ever have that chat with her?”
“No. She’s gone, and I think it’s for the best. I’m still working on forgiving her for what she did. If she was still around, I’d tell her that,” Dahlia answered, and looked out the window.
“Have you had any headaches lately?”
“Little ones, but not like I used to. I know what you said, Dr. Kelly, but I think Phoebe is gone for now. I don’t feel her the way I used to.”
“Very well, then. Are you sleeping?”
“Sometimes. I still have nightmares every now and then, but they don’t paralyze me anymore, and my husband is so supportive of my illness.”
“And how is Michael—and Isabel?”
“They’re both fine. Actually, I need to get home.”
“Do you have a pressing engagement this evening?” Dr. Kelly asked, closing his notebook.
“As a matter of fact, we’re taking my Aunt Baby and Uncle Percival to dinner at Milky’s restaurant.”
“Splendid, then. Lovely woman, your Aunt Baby. Are they visiting for long?”
“They stopped by on their way to Italy.”
“Well. I shall see you next week, then, same time?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dahlia said with a smile, and opened the door to leave. “Dr. Kelly,” she called.
“Yes, Dahlia.”
“Thank you for everything. Thanks from the both of us.”
A CONVERSATION WITH GABRIELLE PINA
Q: Where are you from, and how did you come to know so much about life in Tornado Alley and the outskirts of Dallas, Texas?
A: I’m from Dallas, Texas, and I survived a tornado with my grandmother and my uncle when I was a little girl. My grandmother used to tell me stories about tornadoes, and I guess they stuck with me.
Q: What else about your upbringing in Dallas did you find seeping its way into this novel?
A: Aunt Baby reminded me of my grandmother a little bit. She always had a concoction for everything. She always had a cure for an ailment or something to make everything right with your soul.
Q: What motivated you to combine so many different sources of spiritual strength?
A: Often when you are truly in crisis, you need to pull from everything the creator has to offer. One solution to a problem doesn’t fix everything. Truth is sometimes found in places you least expect it, and you have to be of open mind and open heart to absorb its effects fully.
Q: Why did you choose a funeral home as the Culpepper family business?
A: I’ve always been creeped out by funeral homes, and researching them was one way for me to deal with my own uneasiness. Also, the thought of someone growing up in a funeral home intrigued me.
Q: Why did you choose to write about the experience of someone with dissociative identity disorder (DID)?
A: I’ve always been fascinated with DID and other mental disorders. More specifically, what causes the brain to rewire itself and then correct itself in the blink of an eye? DID is such a multifaceted disorder and one that isn’t necessarily common in the African American community. I wanted to explore what happens when an otherwise strong woman is tempted b
y and surrenders to madness.
Q: Who is the first person to recognize Phoebe?
A: Aunt Baby recognizes Phoebe soon after the accident. However, Baby doesn’t know what to do, how to classify the illness, or how to begin to fix it. And her failure shames her. In the end, she commits to heal Dahlia, and she is just as determined to redeem herself.
Q: What about Dahlia allows her to survive the Sophea experience, unlike her mother and siblings?
A: Dahlia survives the Sophea experience because she is supposed to. Her experience and her life are meant to be a testament for the people around her.
Q: There is such intense color imagery in Chasing Sophea—Mercy Blue and her red dresses, Reva’s being a “brown blur,” even Michael (Milky) had to be given a colorful name. Can you explain the significance of these colors?
A: Mercy’s fascination with red dresses represents her feeling that everything in her life is out of control—her livelihood, her emotions, and her relationship with Lucius. She needs to feel like there is one thing in her existence that she can control. Buying and wearing red dresses is that anchor for her. She is attempting to communicate nonverbally to those around her. “Look at me. I’m special. I’m worthy. I’m alive.”
Colors in the novel represent the multitude of shades in our lives—vividness, evolvement, and ultimately change. Also, the colors represent layers of burgeoning insanity, not just in Dahlia’s life but in everyone else’s as well.
Q: Please explain Lucius’s compulsive attraction to unstable and insecure women.
A: A universal law is that you attract who you are. This truth, much like rain, is unavoidable. From the time he was a child, Lucius yearned to be loved but was abandoned by the first woman in his life. He never really recovered from his mother’s departure, and as a result, he is emotionally stunted, unstable, and insecure. In choosing women, unconsciously on many different levels, he is choosing himself. Emotional stagnation begets nothing but spiritual retardation and vice versa.
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