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“I had nothing to do with her death, Chloe.”
“Whatever.”
I storm out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, to the covered porch, and sit down on the chair. It’s cold in here. And I welcome it.
Rage floods my system while I stare at the rumpled bed where she told me just what she thinks of me. After what might be a long time of staring, of feeling more than I want to feel, I realize I’m flexing my right index finger over and over. It’s not her I want to hurt, but I can’t seem to stop flexing. My heart is beating too fast. Blood pumping too hard.
I need to leave.
Almost a Week Later
It’s 10:30 in the morning and I’m getting into the Town Car Carson messaged about by myself. The driver who introduced himself as Neil, who also drove us on the day Derek forced me to marry him shuts the back door and gets in, asking, “Would you like music? We’ll arrive at your destination in forty minutes, Mrs. Steele.”
“No, thank you,” I say.
“I’ll give you privacy,” Neil offers. “If you require anything, feel free to open the window or use the intercom.”
“Okay,” I reply.
“Please don’t hesitate to make any requests.”
“Thank you.”
The privacy glass closes, and while I smooth out the skirt of the ruby red gown I catch sight of my reflection. My hair is done in big curls and I’m wearing dramatic matte ruby-red lipstick that doesn’t feel matte. I rub my lips together. Feels great. Grace Steele sure knows how to pick lipstick.
She sent it over with matching nail polish and instructions that funeral garb was not allowed. She coordinated with her sister and other sister-in-law as well as her aunts and female cousins. All Steele family women would wear this color today in honor of Shannon Steele and Michael Steele’s ruby anniversary.
The funeral would be somber, but Grace said it would also observe many of her favorite things. Fashion. Family. Friends. Instead of being the four-hundred person affair her anniversary shindig had been planned to be, today would be for family and close friends of the Steeles and Grace requested we all do our best to look as lovely as she wanted us to look for her anniversary party.
I’ve spoken to Grace via text a few times over the past few days and once on the phone. The funeral clothing conversation happened in a group text conversation with her, Naomi, and Elijah’s wife Sabrina, not that Sabrina replied.
Grace called me a few days ago when I responded to Carson’s text about the funeral arrangements and the part that said he would send me a car. It was clear by the phrasing in his message that he knows Derek and I aren’t in contact.
Five minutes after my response stating I couldn’t make it, Grace was phoning and working on me via emotional blackmail. The Steeles are evidently good at blackmail.
I have neither seen nor heard from my psycho husband since I unleashed my frustration on him verbally. Ken has stayed close.
I told Grace I hadn’t seen Derek for a few days, I also told her I think Derek is a monster and I hope he stays away.
“He said as much,” she admitted. “And well, first, that makes me very sad.”
“I’m not responsible for how your brother’s actions make you feel.”
“And second… you’re family,” she said softly.
“By involuntary marriage,” I reminded her.
“And… you’re my friend,” she said, choked up. “I need friends close right now. And we need as many ruby red dresses as possible. For Mom.”
I relented and said I’d come to the cemetery, but would not come to a reception afterwards.
She seemed satisfied with that.
Yesterday, I ventured off the grounds, and Ken didn’t stop me. I grocery shopped and stopped into a flower shop in my old neighborhood, requesting a tasteful floral arrangement for the funeral done in white with some red accents. I stumbled over what to sign on the card, but inevitably decided on
Sincere condolences,
Chloe
