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I can’t bring myself to go back to Dad’s house and into that closet and look at her urn or grab that box of jewelry. Not today.
***
I’m sitting on the couch, watching TV. Austin hasn’t left my side at all. I got a text today from Raven, asking me how I’m holding up and to ask about the arrangements. I tell her about them and she asks for Andrew’s number to relay them. This is a relief; I really don’t want to call him myself after how weird things got. Because Austin rented a car, we’ve been coming in a different door that has meant we haven’t passed the security desk.
Tuesday I also heard from Aunt Fay, Darlene’s mom, who told me she’d only been in touch with my mom once or twice after Mom and Dad split.
Aunt Fay tried to be gentle when she told me my mother was very flighty, always had been, that she’d gotten pregnant with Shane by Dad on what should’ve been a one-night stand, but Dad did what he thought was the right thing and proposed when Mom went to him for money for an abortion.
She told me it took convincing on Dad’s part, because he believed it was the right thing to do, but that Mom finally married him when she was six months along with Shane. Their marriage was rocky from the beginning because Mom didn’t want to be a wife and mother and made life hard on my father. Aunt Fay said Mom told her when she got pregnant with me that they had me to try to strengthen their marriage.
Aunt Fay then hesitantly told me my mom had never been that maternal, though my father really was madly in love with her. That he got frustrated that she often left us with babysitters or neighbors so she could go out. Mom was having affairs and Dad tried to forgive her, but it made him bitter and Mom felt trapped. Aunt Fay talked about the fact that the more their marriage deteriorated the more bitter my father got. Aunt Fay said both Mom and Dad should’ve broken up years before they did.
She also said Mom told her she wanted to see us, but Dad told her she couldn’t until she proved she was a fit mother. The last Aunt Fay heard through a mutual friend, Mom was engaged to an artist and talked about moving to Belize. She thought on this and said it must’ve been a few months before Mom died.
I remarked that my dad must have just quietly dealt with her loss. And she told me she thought Dad had probably spent the rest of his life dealing with that loss. And I think she’s right.
I don’t have closure; I probably never will.
I guess sometimes things don’t end tied up with a tidy bow.
56
Jada
Two days before Dad’s planned funeral we walk into Dad’s bar, the cleverly named, He Ain’t Here, a few blocks from Dad’s house.
“I guess it’s a laugh every time the phone rings, huh?” Austin whispers, amused as we step inside.
It’s dark, the decor a little dreary, but there are smiling faces when I step in. Wait. They’re sympathetic faces, some of them. We approach the bartender.
“Hi Jada,” he greets.
“Hi. Sorry, I don’t remember if we’ve met.” I say.
He shakes his head. “I’ve seen your photo. Rich flashed it often. I’m sorry you lost your pop.”
I jolt in surprise and feel Austin’s arm go around me.
A man approaches, the Santa Claus lookalike from my dad’s house the night he was ‘liberated’ to go to the bar for a drink. His last time out drinking with his friends.
“Hey little lady. So sorry about your loss,” he says. He has kind eyes.
“Th-thank you.”
“We came by with some casseroles, me and the boys, but no one was home.”
“I haven’t been staying there. That was very thoughtful, thank you. I’m actually here to let everyone know about the funeral details, actually.”
I share those details and then I pull out the envelope with five hundred dollars.
“My father left instructions asking me to open a tab up for after the funeral, so that he can buy drinks for his friends.”
“Would you let us put on a luncheon for you as well, Jada?” the bartender asks. “Or do you have plans for somewhere else for a reception after the service?”
“I don’t have any other plans, no. And I think Dad would want it here.”
“Then please come here and let us help you honor Rich.”
I swallow down a lump. “That’s very kind, thank you. I can pay for food and-”
“Let us do that. He was one of us. He spent a lot of his life here, lotta his paychecks, and he will be missed. We’d be honored to host the reception.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot. Um… can I ask a favor?”
