Chapter 9
Statues
It was a dry March afternoon. Birds filled the air, casting their shadows on the ground below and making the most wonderful atmosphere.
Mr. Parker and my mother were both buried at Hillside Cemetery, and my plan today was to visit them both. Hillside was the most renowned memorial park in LA. In my hands, I carried a bouquet of wildflowers for each of them. This would be the first time I had been here since I was seventeen, and I am sure it was long overdue. My mother always said it was such a waste of time visiting a gravesite. Most people would have said it made them feel closer to the person they had lost, but not her. She once told me, “Why would you look at marble rock with a name chiseled in it to remember someone? A vivid memory is much more gratifying than a cold hard stone.” I guess she was right, but when I awoke this morning, I felt the need to go–not necessarily to be close to either of them, but more or less to pay respect to the two most important people in my life.
The cab driver dropped me off at the top of the cemetery, which left me a bit of a hike to the sites, but with a day this perfect I didn’t mind. To add to my insanity of being here, I had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a light blue sundress I had borrowed from Jen.
I made it to my mother’s plot first, which was a good forty plots away from Mr. Parker’s. The thick black marble stone stood glistening in the sun, with only a few chips from the years of weathering. I ran my fingers across the name inscribed, Rebecca Lynn Carlton, moving away the dirt and moss that had covered part of her name. My mother had died from pneumonia. She had been in and out of the hospital because of it. On the night before she died, they had told me that she was improving and would be able to go home the next day. Obliviously, they were wrong.
Laying the flowers on the ground, I stood up to stare at the large slab of rock. “God mom, I wish you were here. I’m pretty sure I’m on the verge of losing my mind, and I really need someone to talk to.” Then I went on to tell her of all the things that had happened over the past several months, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying when I spoke. And at the end of all that talking was silence. I smiled once at the stone and then started to turn, noticing the most extraordinary angel statue standing a few feet away. The statue towered over the tombstones with large wings spread out, and her head tilted up towards the sun. She was so radiant and oddly reminded me of Jen, which caused me to laugh. It wouldn’t have surprised me one bit if some great “carver-of-stone” had dedicated his beautifully sculptured rock to my very beautiful friend. She had a face and a body that any artist would have loved to sculpt.
With the long walk to Mr. Parker’s site, I had removed my shoes and carried them in my hands with the flowers. The cool grass felt good on my feet, and I remembered how much I had missed Spring. When I reached his stone, it was much different than my mother’s–very small and simple just like Mr. Parker would have wanted. The white rock had his name inscribed with black lettering and below it read “Devoted Husband”. Learning about Lilly, after his death, left me wondering a lot about her–I had so many questions. But it was the one thing that he had kept to himself, and I understood that. I had never shared that much about my mother.
I spoke to Mr. Parker’s headstone as I had done my mother’s, telling him about Gage, who had recently moved into his apartment. Even though, I still missed Mr. Parker, it was really nice to have a new friend. After laying the flowers and standing up, something caught my eye. It was a large angel statue that stood directly over the grave beside his, with large wings spread out, and her head tilted towards the ground. I moved over to where she stood and looked down at the grave she was watching–Lilly Parker and Angelica. A chill ran through me. I hadn’t thought about the fact that Mr. Parker would have been buried next to his wife. I looked back up at the angel, her face so beautiful and caring, watching over them. I touched the base of her feet, feeling the cool cement and marveled at her as I turned to leave.
I slowly walked to the top of the cemetery, taking in all the exotic statues and stones. I had told the cab driver to be back in two hours. However, he was not there when I finally reached the entrance. I sat down on a bench and turned to face the cemetery, which I found so intriguing. I began to make up names to all the cement figures; an archer statue–Sir. Shoots A Lot; a centaur statue–Mr. Half Ass (laughing to myself); a boy with a horn–Little Boy Blue; it was obvious I should have stopped while I was ahead. Bored out of my mind, I decided to get up and stretch my legs. To my right was a large map of the cemetery protected by Plexiglas. Figuring I could at least look at the pictures, I went over to check it out.
The map listed the names of all the statues that were there… and of course, they were far better than the names I had made up. I saw the angels listed with a tiny thumbnail picture beside each header. The one closest to my mother’s grave was the angel, Genevieve. I found the one next to Mr. Parker, which was named, Nemaninah. However, there was a third angel whom I had not seen when walking through–the angel, Dekalabrie. The picture was smudged, with mud covering it. I used my finger trying to clear it.
The loud honking of the cab made me jump. Trying to rub harder, I shouted to him, “Hang on just a sec.”
Rudely, he honked again. “Come on lady, you aren’t my only customer today.”
Giving up and brushing my fingers over the name one last time, I backed a step and then turned to enter the cab.
***
Returning to my apartment, I leisurely strolled up the stairs. The door swung open, causing me to stumble back. Just as I thought I was sure to plummet down the entire flight, someone grabbed my arm and steadied me.
Gage’s voice echoed down the stairwell. “Azaleigh, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Shaking off the heart attack I almost had.
“I was looking for you earlier. I’m going out for a drink–I wanted to see if you wanted to go.”
I stopped to think for a minute and decided that I should just go rest. “No, I think I’m going to go lie down.”
“Seriously? You’re already dressed up. Come on, it will be fun,” he exclaimed.
I stared at him, looking into his deep green eyes, which–in my opinion–was one of his best features. I felt myself leaning towards agreeing to go. How was it that he was so easily able to persuade me? I gave up the argument in my head and went with it.
“Sure, I’ll go. Just let me…”
Cutting me off, he said, “You don’t need to change or anything. You look great. Now let’s get out of here.” He grinned, pulling my hand, and coaxing me back down the stairs.
With a small laugh I said, “Fine.”
We walked a few blocks down, looking in all the shops along the way. Their windows were filled with the latest and greatest fashions–costing more than I earned in a month. It was nice to get out and relax, which seemed to be pretty easy around Gage, who was the most out-going person I had known.
“So, where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Hold on a minute, you said you were going to get a drink. I thought you had it all plan out.” I elbowed him.
He looked away as if a little embarrassed, “Nah… that was just a ploy to get you to come out with me.”
I shot him a glance that was supposed to look angry, but I couldn’t hold back my smile. “You’re just lucky I said ‘yes.’”
He laughed at first then turned his look serious. “I don’t know, Az. I mean, what little time I’ve known you, you seem so sad. I guess I thought you might like a change of scenery. That’s all.”
I looked off in the distance, thinking about it. I knew he was right. Maybe it was time to be happy for a while.
“Well, then let’s change the scenery.” I placed my fingers to my temples, pretending to call upon my telepathic powers. “My senses are telling me that we should cross the street, the scenery on that side is much more interesting.”
He laughed. “Ok, come on.”
Gage grabbed my hand as we crosse
d the street. Once on the sidewalk, he kept a hold of it. It made me a little nervous, but I didn’t want to be rude and pull away. Then again, it felt good having someone want to hold it, so I tried to push that nervous feeling to the far back of my mind and just enjoy the moment.
Gage was rambling on with some story, causing me to grab my stomach and hold it together from laughing. Then out of nowhere a huge pink and blue neon sign grabbed my attention. It consumed the whole front window of a flower shop on the corner of the street. Gage’s voice became a distant background noise while I tried to wrap my head around where I had seen this before. It was so familiar. I slowed my pace as we came up on the bright colors hanging in the window.
“Hey, wait a second,” I said to Gage as I stopped and stood in front of it. The evening sun was fading, which caused the sign to reflect off of me, turning my dress mixed shades of pink and blue. “I know this place.”
“Really?” His question came out more of a confused okay.
“Yeah, I’ve been here before, only… it was more like in a dream.” I paused because honestly I hadn’t been here… that I’d known of.
“Well, do you want to go in?” he asked.
“No… no, I don’t think so.” Something was out of place, and I couldn’t figure it out.
Gage pulled on my hand. “Well, let’s go get that drink then.”
“Okay, sure,” I replied, following behind slowly. We stood on the corner, waiting for the light to turn so we could cross, but I kept looking back at the flower shop. As soon as I thought I would just let it go and forget about it, I looked down the street next to the shop. I felt an urgent pull to follow it down.
The light turned, and I tugged on Gage’s arm. “Gage, wait, let’s go this way.”
“There’s nothing down there,” he replied.
“No really–I think there is a place down there we can get a drink,” I said, but he didn’t seem convinced.
“Please–for me?” Great, now I’ve resorted to begging.
He smiled and let me lead. I walked cautiously, not wanting to miss whatever it was that I was looking for, although I was still unclear what that was.
“I think this is it.” I pointed to a door tucked away from the city streets. I led him down the four steps to the entryway and went inside.
It was a small lounge, and the walls were lined with tables that were covered in white linens. Only a few couples were there dinning. The center of the room was laid out with a small hardwood floor, which was set up for intimate dancing–and in the corner a band was playing.
“Yes, I’ve been here before,” I said quietly to myself, trying to confirm something I wasn’t sure of.
Gage turned and grinned. “I think I might like this place.” I was too preoccupied to acknowledge any innuendos.
We were seated at a far back table, and Gage ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. I was feeling tense, so I was glad he ordered wine. I needed to unwind.
After sucking down my first three glasses, I asked the waiter to leave the bottle, causing him to give me that “do I need to call your AA sponsor” look. But he left it anyway. Who was he to judge?
I kept examining the room over and over until I noticed Gage beginning to look annoyed.
“Would you like to dance?” Gage asked me, holding out his hand.
It came out somewhat slurred, and I am pretty sure I spit on him when I answered. “Pppplease, I’m a terrible dancer.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand…. Yes, I am now sure that I spit on him.
Gage, not giving up, grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat. “Come on, you’re dancing. Besides all you have to do is move back and forth.”
On the floor, he held me close, putting one of his hands on my back and using his other to hold my hand adjacent to his shoulder. I laid my head on his chest and breathed in the sweet smell of his cologne, mostly because I couldn’t hold my head much longer. This felt so placated.
My eyes were closed, and we softly swayed to the sound of the music. Everything was spinning, but in a good way–the way you feel when you’re a kid on tire swing, twisting it up and then letting go… and just spinning.
“Az?”
“Umm hum.”
“I was thinking we could do this more often,” he said.
“Do what? Dancing?” I responded, my head still on his chest listening to the vibrating sound it made when he spoke.
A gruff laugh rattled his chest and then settled again. “All of it.”
I looked up at him, not wanting to discuss any future plans, and so I quickly changed the subject. “You have really pretty eyes.”
He looked down at me. “I’m serious,” he said, using a low voice.
I was about to reply, when a song began playing and threw me off track. It was slow and seductive. He pulled me closer, and I took a deep breath. It was getting really hot, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the wine or being this close to Gage. I enjoyed him holding me, and it felt even better holding him in return.
He leaned down humming the words of the song softly in my ear. My eyes rolled for a second in the pleasure of listening to his voice, but then I readjusted my gaze over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a man standing at the bar. He was wearing a black tuxedo, and his dusty blonde hair was perfectly combed back. His persona and attire caused me to stare harder, wanting to see his face. He stood over six feet tall and casually rested a hand in his pants pocket.
Gage kept moving, still leaning next to my ear–oblivious to my trance I was now stuck in.
I squinted, trying to focus on the man at the bar. He picked up a shot of dark liquor, consuming it in one gulp, and when he was finished, he slammed the glass down on the counter. His head started to turn as if he could feel me staring at him, and as soon as I was about to see the outline of his face, Gage broke my concentration. “Az”, he said, pulling back to see my face. “Are you okay? You don’t seem like you’re here.”
I shook my head and forced a smile. “Sorry, I think the wine must have gotten to me. I’m fine, really.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.
“It’s just…” My words trailed off as I looked back to locate the man, but he was gone.
“I’ve had a long day. Do you mind if we leave?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said. Gage walked to our table and tossed enough money down to cover our tab then escorted me out.
Feeling a little tipsy, I leaned against Gage as we walked the blocks back to our apartment complex. He had his arm wrapped around my back with a tight grip on my shoulder, while I rested my head on his.
Finally, at my apartment, I leaned my back against the door with the heel of my shoe propped against it. Facing Gage, I watched his face turn serious while staring at me. He placed his fingers in the belt of my dress and pulled me closer, planting both of my feet on the ground. I was surprised when I didn’t feel nervous–only eager. His hands were still fixed in my belt as he walked closer to me, pressing me back against the door.
He grinned and spoke in a low voice. “You’re killing me in that dress.”
I don’t know what it was–if it was the way he spoke to me, the feeling that something was missing in my life, or the fact I didn’t want to be alone tonight, but that’s all he had to say. I placed my hand on the back of his neck and pressed my lips against his. Even though he tried to hide it, he felt the anticipation of our kiss just as much as I did. His lips trailed over mine, again and again. I couldn’t pull him close enough–I wanted every inch of him. Feeling the heat rush though my body, he could feel my arousal and kissed me harder. I ran my hands through his hair, and then jerked the top two buttons of his shirt loose. He grabbed my thigh, and ran his hand under it. He lifted my leg and wrapped it around his, causing my skirt to hike up. This made me want him even more. I began feeling for the doorknob, trying to turn it. When I found it, he pulled away. I could feel my lips swelled and burning. Where I had pulled the top two buttons loose, his shirt wa
s opened and exposing his chest.
Speaking only inches from his face, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“We should wait.”
My eyes followed his back and forth. “Wait for what?”
“I don’t want you like this,” he said.
Embarrassed, shocked, and frustrated, I pushed him back at arm’s length. He caught my hand and held it to his chest.
He smiled confidently and leaned back in. “You’ve misunderstood me, Love.” I couldn’t speak. My feelings were torn, and now he was adding confusion to the mix. “I do want you… in every way possible… but not like this. I don’t want it to be a night inspired by wine and atmosphere. I want it to be real.”
Kissing me one last time, he said, “I’ll wait until you’re inside.”
I looked away clearly frustrated, but at the same time knowing he was right. I nodded and went in, closing the door behind me and not looking back.
***
The next morning, I awoke to an assembly of flowers outside of my door–Gage of course. I made three trips from the door to the counter, placing them all atop. Attached was a tiny card that said: downstairs lobby, nine AM, Gage. It was already eight forty, which left me no time to decide what to do. And of course this is the time the irritating voice in my head speaks up. You have nothing better to do anyway. “Fine,” I said gritting my teeth.
Jumping in the shower and letting the water sooth my body, I replayed last night’s scene in my head. Thinking about Gage, I couldn’t help but smile.
Then I remembered the man at the lounge and how fascinating he was. It was strange how quickly he had disappeared.
I pulled back the shower curtain and reached for my towel. Steam from the shower had filled the room. Drying off and wrapping the towel around me, I reached up to clear the mirror.
My hand stroked it twice, removing the condensation and revealing the same woman with platinum colored hair and white eyes who had appeared there before. Startled, I screamed. Stepping back and slipping on the wet floor, I crashed hard. I looked up at the mirror and saw she was still there with an amused look on her face. I closed my eyes tight and yelled at her, “You are not real!” Listening to the dripping of the showerhead, I waited. I was hoping that when I opened my eyes, she would be gone. I opened them to find her full body standing over me. Her eyes tightened on me and then she spoke. “He who appears before you as the golden one will slay the angel, Genevieve.” It was all she said, her body turning into the steam that had filled the room.
Flesh and Feathers Page 8