it, even if it was coming from my brother, the priest. We sat silently until Henry came to retrieve me. He looked a little perplexed, seeing us holding Connor’s coffin in our laps.
“Uh, you need to come and get ready now.” He stood, stumped about what else to say that would elicit movement toward the chapel door.
Tommy got up and asked with his eyes if he could take Connor from me. I moved my hands off the top of the wood to signal my approval. He placed him back on the stand and took a step back. Walking forward, I stroked the lid, and left.
Our walk back to the house was silent. Trucks were starting to leave and ahead of me, on the porch, stood my father, waiting to greet me. My stomach soured. If Henry hadn’t been at my side, I would have walked around to the back to avoid him.
“Julia.” His arms were outstretched and I had little choice but to walk into them. I couldn’t bring myself to return the embrace. My arms remained at my side as he half hugged me, equally uncomfortable
“John,” I replied, emotionless.
He broke our embrace to look at me. I could feel his disapproval of the pink leisure suit. Turning to Henry, he commanded, “Does she have something more suitable to wear?”
“Yes Sir. She’s going upstairs to change now.”
His attention turned back toward me. “Take a shower. Your hair…”
“I will. I’ll be presentable. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, Julia. You are always presentable.”
I pulled away and brushed by him to enter the house. As expected, Henry remained with him. Climbing the stairs to my room, I shut and locked the door, figuring that Henry would try to sneak away to check on me and I was mad. I didn’t want to see him now if it meant cheating on my father.
The hot shower felt relaxing. I tried to focus on the task at hand, hoping to keep my mind from wandering beyond scrubbing my body and washing my hair. The dress that lay on the bed was simple and elegant. I put on the black slip and decided to dry my hair. The grooming products he left for me helped as I twisted my hair up into a loose bun. Opting to forego eye makeup, I decided to just add a little color to my lips and powder to my face. The dress fit perfectly and the heels were a manageable height. Looking in the mirror, I thought that I seemed presentable- the thought more a question than a statement of fact. Let the misery begin.
The house had come alive again after a year of no visitors. My father had hired a caterer to provide the food for his guests. The funeral had turned into an event; a networking affair for the who’s who of the business world.
I’d lost Henry again to a formidable adversary. When my father beckoned, he ran to his side like an old faithful lap dog. The sight of them together still made me cringe, despite the somberness of the day. Their partnership was a constant reminder of an entirely different kind of loss; for the heart keeps a different space reserved for romantic love, even when we have lost all hope.
Tommy delivered a beautiful service for Connor. I sat alone and motionless, in the first pew of the chapel, through the readings. Little could be said about a life that never came to pass. My brother spent most of his homily talking about my qualities and how my son missed out on a great mom; if only that were true. Hindsight painted another picture altogether. I would have said, “Here is a sad, scared woman, who, in fleeing from her life, placed her helpless, and innocent baby in harm’s way. Before you, a selfish and broken woman sits, devoid of all faith and joy.” That condemnation would have been far more accurate and refreshing to those in attendance, for I figured that most held the same skewed thoughts as me. At the very least, I was certain that my father held me accountable. I could feel his glare burn the back of my neck, from the row behind me, during the service. On this day, no one could hate me more than I hated myself.
With the closing prayer, my father stepped out of the shadows to invite everyone to the house for food. The small chapel began to empty and I was left alone. Tommy was busy shaking