Now here she is, looking shiny and porcelain like a Madame Tussauds wax sculpture, the frown lines still running thick down the corners of her mouth. I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t stop staring at her lying motionless in the coffin with her spindly fingers crossed together.
She looks terrible. Even after the work the mortician put in, I barely recognize her. I can’t help but think that this is for the best.
Katie must recognize my internal struggle because she takes my hand in hers and pulls it on her lap, squeezing tightly.
“Are you okay?” she whispers in my ear. Without looking at her, I nod, continuing to analyze my mother’s current state. I’ve seen too many dead bodies to count, all in various stages of decomposition, but never in my life have I seen this. I’ve only been to one non-military funeral before—my grandmother’s, and she was cremated—and the ones I’ve attended have never had an open casket because the bodies were in too bad of shape.
Josephine may have been a stranger to me toward the end of her life, but she was still my mother, and as distant as the good memories are, I still have some. So seeing her like this, plastic and lifeless, brings so much pain to my heart that I feel like I have to fight to catch my breath. I don’t want Katie to worry, so every bit of anguish I feel in this moment is wiped clean from my face. She had to deal with this too—and not that long ago—so I’ll be damned if I force her to go through it again. Nobody needs to shoulder this burden but me. I’ll deal with this like I do everything else. I’ll let the feelings and emotions take hold for a day, I’ll process them on my own, and then I’ll stuff them so deep that I can’t help but forget about them … for a while at least.
The funeral director finishes his speech and welcomes us to say our final goodbyes. My great-aunt goes up to the casket first. She touches my mother’s forehead and each shoulder, delivering the Lord’s Prayer before departing the room. Katie looks at me, but at first I don’t move. I know I’m supposed to go up there, but my legs just aren’t responding to what my brain is telling them to do. It’s hard enough seeing my mom’s body from this distance.
The funeral director picks up on my hesitation and moves from behind the podium. “I will leave you guys be. Please, take your time and just come get me when you’re finished,” he says in his most sympathetic tone before following Ida out of the room.
I rise to my feet but can’t step forward just yet. My chest is burning, the lump in my throat letting me know I may just lose it if I take one step closer. I turn to look at Katie. She’s standing beside me, her hand resting gently on my back. Her touch is so comforting and I don’t want to ask her to leave, but I need this moment to be private.
“Baby, can I do this by myself? I just can’t—”
She rests her hand on my cheek, immediately cutting me off. “I completely understand. I’ll be out in the lobby if you need me.” She pulls my head down to hers and kisses my lips softly. I nearly fall into her when she releases me, not wanting to stop just yet. She shoots me the sweetest smile before making her way out of the room.
My eyes move from her to my mother, and I take two baby steps forward. I don’t know what exactly my problem is, but the closer I get to her, the tighter the pain in my stomach becomes. I take in a deep breath and rub a knuckle against each temple, then I move forward slowly until I’m standing beside the coffin. My eyes burn, the tell-tale sign that my emotions are taking over.
At first it’s just a few tears, but the longer I stand here, the more they fall. Before I know it, the tears are running down my cheeks, many of them coating my mother’s hands and the old black dress she used to wear on special occasions. It’s velvet and completely swallows her frail body.
“I fucking hate that you got this reaction out of me,” I say, wiping at my face. “I fucking hate crying more tears over you.” The words slip out before I can even process them. I know she can’t hear me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have shit to get off my chest.
“You stole a huge part of my life from me. You let your own pain and anguish negatively affect me. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. So why do I still fucking love you?” The tears fall even harder now and I drop to my knees, resting my forehead against the side of the casket. I’m so fucking angry, and I can’t tell whether that’s because of the person she was or the mother she wasn’t. Or maybe it’s just because I never had a chance to say goodbye—never had a chance to mend the broken pieces.
I know it was her fault; it’s not like she ever made an attempt either. But that’s who she was. It doesn’t mean that’s who I had to be. It’s too late now though, and that fact is all too clear as I bawl like a baby before my mother’s withered body.
When I finally compose myself, I rise to my feet and brush the tears from my face. Taking in a long, shaky breath, I reach into my shirt and grab my dog tags, pulling them over my head. I remove one of the tags and drape the other one with the chain back around my neck.
I place the tag between her cold hands, and the instant I touch her, the tears creep back in. Quickly, I pull my hands back and look at her closed eyes. All I need to do now is say goodbye.
“You hurt me more than anyone ever could. You made me wish every day for a different life. But that doesn’t change reality. You’re my blood, and no matter what happened in the past, nothing can change that. I love you, Josephine.” I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Rest in peace, Mama.”
We’re cruising down Old Hickory Avenue in the rental car, and Katie has no idea where we’re going. But I do … I’m just hoping they’re still there. As I drive around the bend and see the massive property that once belonged to my grandparents, I’m immediately relieved to see the wild horses that my grandma loved so much. Katie catches sight of the stunning creatures at the same time I do, and the smile that lights her face is nearly my undoing.
The funeral was tough and it left my mind a cluttered mess, but Katie makes it all better.
“Oh my God!” She rolls down her window as quickly as she can. “They’re so beautiful!” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. The air out here is unlike anywhere in the world, and it takes me back to the days I spent with my grandmother on this property, the one place I could forget the outside world for just a while. I’ve missed this.
“Smells amazing, huh?” I roll down my own window and let the scent of pine and damp earth pour into the vehicle. It’s freeing to be out here in the middle of nowhere, seeing, smelling, and hearing only those things that are natural to this Earth. It brings my feelings toward war and Iraq into focus, and immediately makes me yearn to get out of the military altogether. If I could—and if my men weren’t still there—I’d never go back to that hellhole again.
Katie rests a hand on my lap, the biggest smile on her face. “It really does. Are we going to see them?” She’s so excited that if it hadn’t been part of my plan to begin with, seeing the horses would undoubtedly be added to the agenda.
“We will in just a few minutes,” I say with a mischievous smile.
“What are you up to, soldier?” God, I love it when she calls me that—and she knows it.
“In due time, Kit Kat, in due time.” I pull the rental onto a small dirt road leading to the woods beside the property.
“Are we allowed to do this?” Katie’s innocence is ridiculously adorable.
“Well, I didn’t ask for permission, but let’s just say I was here long before any of these people were.” She looks at me curiously, trying her best to figure out my meaning, before it clicks and her mouth drops open.
“Oh my God!”
“I don’t know who lives here now, but I do know that”—I point to the large farmhouse off to our right that’s situated in the middle of the twenty-acre land my family once owned—“my grandfather built that with his own hands. Nobody’s going to tell me we can’t be here.”
“Yes, Sir,” she says with her delicate hand in a terribly performed salute. I think about the prospects of this kind of routine duri
ng sex, just as we approach a fork in the road. I’m going to have to remember that.
I take the path to the left, which travels further into the woods. The other road juts harshly to the right and through a gate toward the farmhouse. We are completely surrounded by trees, and I notice Katie’s eyes peering out the window.
“It’s so, so beautiful out here. I just can’t even believe it. How long did your grandparents live here?” I love that even though this woman knows so much about me—probably more than anybody—she still wants to know more.
“Well, my grandpa built it after coming back from the war in ’45. He and my grandmother lived here together for almost fifty-five years before he had that stroke. Then my grandma lived here for about another three years until her death.”
“And she didn’t leave it to any of your family? Why not you?” she asks, just as we approach the spot I’ve been searching for. It’s a large clearing in the woods, void of anything but dried pine needles and fallen twigs. The dirt road continues down the property’s northernmost fence line, and a stream runs parallel to the road on our left and deep into the woods, acting as a partial border for this spot I’ve come to know so well. The farmhouse is just a speck on the horizon on the other side of the fence.
I get out of the car and Katie follows, nearly tripping over herself as she stares, mesmerized by the twenty or so horses galloping across the fenced land.
“Besides my mother and I—and I guess, Great-Aunt Ida—my grandmother didn’t have any family.” I reach out my hand, offering Katie a seat right in the middle of the clearing, then I follow suit.
“She sure as shit wasn’t giving it to my mother, and I hadn’t joined the Army or anything, so I don’t think she was too confident in my future at that point. She ended up donating the land, horses, and house to a non-profit organization. I have no idea if they just sold the property, or if they’re actually using it. I don’t even know who owns it.”
I thought about going up and asking if it was all right for us to be here, but I don’t have time to fuck around—well, not with anyone besides Katie, that is.
“Did you or your grandma ever ride them?” The kindness in her eyes makes the small distance between us almost unbearable. I scoot closer to her and place an arm around the small of her back.
“Well, no. My grandmother never really believed in riding them. They’ve always been kind of wild and just living on the land.” I throw air quotes up around ‘living on the land’ because, in reality, they ate better than our family did most of the time. “She really just loved watching them roam free.”
Katie pulls her knees toward her chest and drops her chin on them, her eyes moving in rhythm with the horses. She settles in close to me, allowing me to wrap her completely in my arms.
“I can see why. I could sit here forever.” Her gaze is fixed on the horses and mine is on her. I could too, Katie. I could too. Although eventually we’d need to—
“Oh shit, I almost forgot,” I blurt, rising to my feet. I make my way to the trunk, open it up, and grab a bottle of wine, two wine glasses, an opener and a picnic blanket. I carry them over to Katie and set them down. “Ma’am, if I could have you please stand,” I say playfully, holding out my hand so I can help her up. “I mean, seriously, what asshole would let you sit down in the dirt?” I flash her a wink and a smile, and she smiles back, rising to her feet.
“Obviously, a man not as gentlemanly as yourself, good sir.” She laughs and backs away a few steps. I set the blanket flat on the ground and proceed to open the wine bottle, filling each glass. I hand Katie hers and re-cork the bottle before sitting back down with mine.
I lift my wine glass for a toast, but I can’t seem to think of anything appropriate to say. “To us?” I ask, and she scrunches her nose and shakes her head. She gives me a very dramatic thumbs-down. “No? Too simple? Okay, how about … to my mother, may she find herself in a better place, and to my grandmother and grandfather for having the wherewithal to see the absolute beauty of this land, and to us and the four unexpected days we get to spend together. May there be many more to follow.” She smiles, her eyes welling with tears as she raises her glass, clinking it against mine.
“To Josephine, Hank and Harriet … and to us.” She takes a small sip and looks at me like I’m crazy when I down the whole thing.
“Long day,” I joke, setting the glass to the side and moving in front of her. I take her glass and set it down next to mine. “Katie …”
“Yes?”
“Isn’t it funny how you can have a million different things on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be said, but when it comes time to spill it, there’s nothing?” I find myself staring at the blanket and trying my best to make sense of everything going on in my head. Katie places both hands around my neck and pulls me in until I’m inches from her face. I can smell her perfume, and my eyes close as I let the scent consume me. I could sit here, just like this, forever.
“You don’t have to say a word, Dev. I know.”
“But I want to. I want to tell you everything. I want you to know that, regardless of the distance or time between us, I will make this work, and we will make up for the past ten years. We will be everything we ever dreamed of growing up.” She lets out a deep sigh, and in this moment, I know she’s feeling the same way I am. She needs me as badly as I need her.
We lie there for hours, completely lost in one another, talking about the past and making love like there’s no tomorrow. Only Katie could do this. Only she has the ability to take this horrible day and turn it around. Watching the horses gracefully streak across the land under the fleeting summer sun, I’m completely at peace. As her head rests against my chest and my finger traces pathways across her skin, I realize I am right where I’m meant to be. If I could only hold on to this moment and never let it go. But unfortunately, the sobering realization that I only have two more days with her lingers like a bad hangover.
“Arms”—Christina Perri
OUR FIRST TWO DAYS TOGETHER have flown by. Day one was pretty much all travel, but remembering how the night ended puts a fat smile on my face. Yesterday, of course, was the funeral, and then we spent the entire afternoon watching the wild horses. He eventually made love to me right there on the blanket before taking me to dinner and then spending the rest of the night worshiping my body.
And now here we are cleaning out Josephine’s house. It isn’t exactly the way I planned on spending day three, especially considering Devin is leaving tomorrow, but it needed to be done. We’ve been cleaning for hours, and Devin insists that whatever we don’t get through is simply going to get thrown away.
“Do you want this?” I hold up an old baseball glove I just found shoved under a twin-size bed in the spare room, which I assume used to be Devin’s. I recognize this glove. My parents bought it for Dev in seventh grade and he loved it. His mom couldn’t afford one—either that or she didn’t want to spend the money—and he was damn proud of that black Rawlings.
“Where did you find that?” Pushing to his knees, Devin crawls to where I’m at and he takes the glove, brushing off the dust.
“It was under the bed … way in the back.” Reaching under the bed again, I find an old shoebox and drag it out.
Devin sighs and slips his hand in the worn leather. “I looked everywhere for this glove after we moved here, but I couldn’t find it. Mom kept telling me that it would pop up, and then I guess she got sick of me asking because she finally just told me to get over it.” Balling his hand into a fist, he pounds it into the glove, a wistful look passing over his face. “She said I didn’t play anymore, so it didn’t matter. Except it did, and I probably would have.”
The look on his face tells me all I need to know—as if I didn’t already—about what kind of hateful woman Josephine was. It also tells me that we need a change of subject … fast.
Clearing my throat, I lift the lid off the shoebox. “What do you want to do tonight? I thought maybe we could go grab some dinner.”
<
br /> “Dinner sounds good,” he mumbles, dropping his glove to the side and reaching into the shoebox I just opened. His hand latches on to some pictures and he flips through them one by one, his smile growing bigger each time he moves to the next.
Leaning forward, I peek at the photos. “Oh my God. Give me that!” Pulling the top one out of his hand, I look down at the photo and I’m instantly taken on a trip down memory lane. “What the hell was I thinking?” No really, what the hell was I thinking? I know it was the 90’s and all, but my bangs couldn’t get higher if I tried, and was I seriously wearing layered neon socks?
“You looked hot.”
“If by hot you mean I looked like a flashing neon sign that screamed ‘look at me, I love New Kids On The Block,’ then yes, I looked hot.”
Devin chuckles and tosses a picture at me. “Remember that?” Picking up the worn photo, I’m instantly brought to tears. It’s the two of us—Devin and me—and he’s sitting on one of Daddy’s four wheelers. I’m sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his stomach. We’re both covered in mud and laughing. We were fifteen years old, and it’s a moment in time that I’ll never forget.
The day this picture was taken was the day Devin told me he loved me for the first time. At the time, it was just the love of two friends, but his words meant the world to me nonetheless.
“Do you remember what happened,” I ask, “right before Daddy snapped this?” My eyes drift upward and Devin is watching me, smiling.
“Of course I do. And do you remember what else we did that day?”
A grin plays at the corner of my mouth. How could I forget? “It’s still there,” I say, letting the memory wash over me.
A Lover's Lament Page 28