Within a couple of hours, the chapel thinned out to a few remaining mourners.
“It went well, I think. Don’t you?” she asked her mother.
“Mm-hm,” she said as she swept a strand of Paige’s curly auburn hair away from her forehead. “You have his eyes. I never knew what he was thinking either.”
“You look troubled. What’s wrong? Is it about that crazy woman who came in here?”
“No. I’m just thinking back to his funeral and what happened while we were here. It makes me not want to go home.”
Paige’s mother’s house had been burglarized the previous month while Paige, her mother, and a few close friends had attended his funeral. Afterward, Paige had had a more sophisticated security system installed at her mother’s home, and as an added precaution today had arranged for the local police to keep an eye on the house during the memorial service.
But Paige suspected there was something else her mother was still upset about regarding her father’s private funeral. Her mother’s estranged sister, Bernice, and Bernice’s daughter, Wanda, had shown up…uninvited. Her mother had asked them to leave for reasons unknown to Paige. All Paige had heard of the conversation was her mother saying, “You know damn well the reason why.” While she was dying to know what had caused the interminable rift between the two sisters, Paige knew this to be too sensitive a subject to bring up with her mother…ever.
“It won’t happen again—the police are watching out for us,” Paige said, referring to the break-in.
“I hope so.”
“I’m still freaked out about the woman with the shawl on her head,” Paige said. “Why would she do that?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Like I said, she probably just bumped into it and got scared or embarrassed and left without saying anything.”
“I don’t know.”
“When it’s just you and me left, how about we go home and have a drink?”
“Good idea,” Paige said, troubled by the woeful expression on her mother’s face. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I don’t know. The service stirs up so many memories.”
Paige put her hand over her mother’s. “Fond memories.”
“Mm-hm.”
Paige and her father often took the train to downtown Chicago to see live theater, go shopping on Michigan Avenue, or visit a museum—always followed by a fancy restaurant where they would talk about where they had been, what they had seen. She remembered one time when she was thirteen and they had shopped at Marshall Fields for a birthday present for her mother. Afterward, they went to the top of the Hancock Center for lunch. That day, they talked about her future—what she wanted to be when she grew up. Inspired by the panoramic view of the city from the top of the skyscraper, she had told her father she might want to work in real estate. Years later, she ended up doing just that.
“Someone from Dad’s office asked me how long you two were married. Forty-three years, right?”
A flush crept across her mother’s face.
“You okay?” Paige asked.
“It’s been a long day, that’s all.”
“I sure do miss him.”
“Me too,” her mother said behind a pained smile. “I have to go to the restroom before we leave. I’ll meet you back here.”
Paige watched her mother walk toward the stairs, her flexed posture and deliberate stride jarring Paige with the realization that her mother could become more dependent on her as she aged. With little time to herself amid a hectic work schedule, Paige wasn’t sure how that would play out.
She walked toward a small seating area to wait for her mother to return when a woman barged through the door, almost running into her, mumbling something about being too late. Paige watched her enter the chapel, then turn around and approach her.
“Everybody’s gone?” the stranger asked.
Paige took stock of the woman. She was her own age or maybe a little older. Her outfit was casual, more so than what most people would wear to a memorial service.
“Just my mother and I are left. And you are?”
“I was looking for my sister,” the woman said.
“This is the memorial service for Ryan West. Is that—”
“Yes, I know,” she said as she headed toward the door.
Paige’s mother joined her. “Who’s that, dear?” she asked.
“Not sure.”
Before leaving, the woman snatched one of Paige’s father’s memorial cards from the sign-in stand, glanced down at it for several seconds, then looked up. She stood there for a long, uncomfortable moment staring at Paige and her mother before leaving.
Chapter 2
“What do you mean he’s dead?” Jessivel got up from the kitchen chair, almost knocking it over, the numbness in her chest giving way to rage.
Jessivel’s mother, Crystal, a compact woman in her fifties almost a foot shorter than her, took a step backward. “Calm down, Jess,” she said. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“I think you just did,” she said, rolling her neck in a manner she knew her mother hated. “Dad died last month, and you’re just telling me now? What the—”
Jessivel’s twelve-year-old daughter Kayla entered the room. “Mom, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing, sweetie. Go to your room and play.”
“But I need to—”
“Go to your room!”
Kayla left the kitchen on the verge of tears. “And do what?”
“Anything. Do something with your hair,” Jessivel shouted after her, her arms flailing. “It’s a mess.”
“You better get a grip on it,” Jessivel’s mother advised her. “She don’t deserve that. You talk about Kayla’s hair. Look at yours. And can’t you ever wear something besides sweats and a t-shirt?”
Jessivel sat down hard on the kitchen chair. “Dad is gone,” she said. “And you’re ragging on me about what I’m wearing? How the hell can you be so calm?” She stared at the red, white, and blue Chicago Cubs mug sitting on the kitchen counter, the one her father always grabbed first for his morning coffee. “What’s that thing doing out?” she said.
Her mother picked up the mug, swung open a cupboard door that was half off its hinges, and placed the mug inside. “I was shocked too when I first heard. But now… He’s gone. We just have to accept it and go on from here.” Her mother twisted her body away from Jessivel, one of her signature moves when she didn’t want to show emotion. “You better tell Kayla.”
“What do I tell her? How did he die? Where is he now? You haven’t told me shit.” Jessivel loosened the fist she hadn’t even realized she’d made.
“I don’t know exactly how he died, but both of us noticed he wasn’t himself lately. Remember us talking about that?”
“Not himself and dead are two different things.”
“And he had several doctor’s appointments in the last month that he downplayed.”
“He didn’t look sick to me.”
“We didn’t see him for ten days. He could have gotten sicker during that time.”
“How did you even find out about this?”
“I called his work when he didn’t come home after his last trip and didn’t return my calls. They put me through to Human Resources, and that’s when I was told.”
“So, some random person tells you Dad is dead, and you say ‘Thanks, have a nice day’? They didn’t call you when it happened? What’s wrong with these people?”
“We talked, and she—”
“Where is he now? Who’s planning the funeral? Who’s his doctor? Let’s call him.”
“The funeral already happened, and I have no idea who his doctors were. He kept that to himself. He kept a lot of things—”
“How the fuck can you say this with a straight face? We’re his family!”
“You watch your mouth.” Her mother’s eyes ping-ponged about the room as she talked, landing everywhere but in direct contact with Jessivel’s. “I think there are som
e of those vanilla coffee beans left. Can you make a pot and add that flavored syrup you found?”
“How can you think about coffee at a time like this?”
“I’m trying to stay calm. And you’re not helping matters. Are you going to make the coffee or not?”
Jessivel slammed her fist on the table. “No! Not until I get some answers.”
The look on her mother’s face told Jessivel she wasn’t going to say anything more about her father’s death, even though she was sure her mother was holding back. She had to have been.
Jessivel closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and let out a long sigh before continuing the discussion. “Why didn’t they call you right away? And why did you wait so long to tell me?”
“I just didn’t…” Her mother sat down across from her. “I just didn’t, that’s all. You better tell Kayla.”
“Where is he buried? Do you even know that? And who would have made the arrangements? Paid for it. We’re his family. This is all so bogus. He may not even be dead! How do you know that for sure?”
Her mother attempted to smooth the wrinkles of her dress with the palms of her hands before responding. “I don’t know. Maybe…”
Jessivel shot up from her chair. “This is crazy! And you don’t even look concerned.”
“Don’t get that way with me, Jess. This isn’t my fault. It isn’t anybody’s fault. He’s gone. He didn’t plan on it. He didn’t die on purpose. It just is what it is.”
Unable to think of anything more to say, Jessivel left the kitchen to seek out her daughter. She found her lying on the bed in her room.
“Kayla, honey, there’s something I have to talk to you about.” She looked past Kayla to the colorful walls that had been defaced with crayons and markers during various phases in her daughter’s life, walls her father had recently said he’d repaint for her birthday.
“What are you and Nana fighting about now?” she asked, hugging a worn stuffed teddy bear.
“We’re not fighting,” Jessivel said as she sat down on the bed and put on her best game face. “Poppy is in heaven, sweetie.”
“Why?”
“Because he got sick…and he died.” Jessivel struggled to keep her emotions from showing on her face, not knowing where these feelings came from since the main thing her father had provided for them for as long as she could remember had come out of his wallet, not his heart.
“How?” Kayla asked.
“How what?”
“How did he die?”
“I don’t know. We weren’t told.”
“When Katie’s poppy died, she had to go to his funeral, and it was awful. She had to look at him while he was dead and everything. Will I have to do that?”
“No. You won’t.” Another thing that angered Jessivel—no funeral. This was her father, for God’s sake. Her mother’s husband. Well, not really. They were never married. But he had lived with them forever, so it was like they were married. They should have been the first to be notified.
“So, we’ll never see him again?” Kayla asked as she fidgeted with her hair. “I thought he was just on another trip for work.”
Her father’s job had required him to travel to various construction sites around the country, and he was often absent for long intervals.
“That’s right, Kayla. We’ll never see him again.” Jessivel shut her eyes while trying to quash confusion, resentment, and anger at the same time.
“So now you don’t have a daddy either,” Kayla said.
Jessivel had never told Kayla that Kayla’s father, Jason, had vanished upon learning she was pregnant. She had lied instead and told Kayla he had died in a car accident before she was born.
Unable to contain her emotions, Jessivel jumped up, ran into her own bedroom, and slammed the door. She buried her face in her pillow before collapsing into a ball on her bed while she attempted to sort out her thoughts, the acrid smell of the pillowcase reminding her that it should have gone in the wash days earlier.
“Jess?” her mother said through the closed door.
“Go away.”
“Come help with dinner.”
“I’m not hungry. I need to be alone right now.”
“Suit yourself, but no matter how you feel, you still have to eat.”
“Later.”
She got up and grabbed from atop the dresser the beat-up Care Bear her father had given her after she had threatened to run away when she was in the second grade. She took it back to the bed and curled up in a fetal position, eventually dozing off.
A knock on the door awakened her.
“I’m not hungry!”
“It’s me, Mom,” said Kayla.
Jessivel contemplated whether to respond.
“Can I come in?”
She caved, knowing she’d hear crap from her mother later if she didn’t let Kayla in.
“C’mon in.”
Kayla opened the door, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at her.
“What?”
“When are you coming out?”
“When I feel like it.”
“I think you better feel like it soon.”
“Says who?”
“Says Nana.”
“She’s not the boss of me.”
Kayla got up, put hands on her hips, and said, “Okay. Have it your way, but I know Nana, and I think you’d best be coming out of your room…like now.”
“I’ll come out when I’m good and ready.”
Kayla stomped out, and before she disappeared around the corner, Jessivel’s mother appeared.
“We can talk in here or at the kitchen table. Your choice.”
“I’m grieving. Leave me alone.”
“We need a plan.”
“For what?”
“For how we’re going to live. That’s for what.”
“Why? Like Dad didn’t leave us with anything?”
“Right.”
“Right what?”
“He didn’t leave us with anything.”
“Like he didn’t have a will or something?”
“Not that I know of.”
“This is so— Dad dies, we’re not told anything, and now we’re left out in the cold. We don’t even know where his body is. How are we supposed to live?”
“That’s my point. We need to support ourselves now.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
“Well, you need to talk to the right people and find out what he left us or who inherited all his money when he died, instead of us. Something.”
“I’m going on the assumption he didn’t leave us anything. Let’s start there. And don’t you think it’s about time you found a job anyway?”
Jessivel’s mother worked part-time cleaning houses for a living, but Jessivel had managed to avoid work her entire life, using her pregnancy and then raising Kayla as excuses. Her mother had given up nagging her about it since they had always been able to make ends meet, and she liked having her daughter and granddaughter around.
Jessivel could feel the heat flushing through her body. “What?”
“You heard me. You need to get a job.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever you can. What I earn cleaning houses won’t support me, let alone you and Kayla.”
“Well, you won’t find me cleaning up someone else’s shit. Why would you—”
“There’s nothing wrong with what I do, Jess—it’s an honest way to make a living.” She stood with her hands locked on her hips. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have any skills. Who would hire me?” The thought of having to go to work scared her. “He must have had a will, Mom, or life insurance or something.”
“Jess, we’re on our own now. You need to get a job and support yourself. I couldn’t support us in this house by myself even if I went full-time. Not even close.”
“No way,” she said, tossing back her hair. “I’m a s
tay-at-home mom.”
“Not anymore, you’re not.”
“Why don’t you want to fight for what’s ours? It seems like you don’t even care. Call a lawyer or something.”
“Look, Jess. We were never married. There’s no will to take care of us. And I can’t afford a lawyer. I don’t even have enough money for next month’s rent.”
“How can you get over this so fast? It’s like you don’t even care he’s gone.”
Her mother stood firm and responded in a purposeful voice. “Oh, I care he’s gone, alright. For close to thirty years, that man took care of us, paid most of the bills. You bet I care. But he’s gone now, and so is all the money. What am I supposed to do?”
“What about a checking account? Savings account?”
“I never had access to them. He handled all his money.”
“So you have nothing.”
“I have whatever’s in my purse right now, and that ain’t much.”
“Are you kidding me? What are we going to do?”
“I just told you—you need to get a job. I’m going to look for something else too. Maybe find a job that includes room and board.”
“Living in some mansion, cleaning up after rich people?”
“Whatever.”
“Nice. Real nice, Mother. Well, I need to stay at home. Kayla can’t come home from school to an empty house.”
“Other kids do.”
“Well, not my kid!”
“You look here, Jess. You have got to pull your own weight. How you do it is up to you. I’m going to start looking for another place to live because I can’t afford to live here.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“How many times do I have to say it?”
“This is insane. You’re insane.”
“It’s time to grow up, Jess.”
“You grow up. I’m not ready yet.”
Chapter 3
“What was that look for?” Paige’s mother asked when she witnessed the unfamiliar woman grab one of her late husband’s memorial service cards.
“She came in all flustered, looking for her sister,” Paige responded.
“Who’s her sister?”
The Ring Page 2