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If she acted like she might spiral, he’d turn from anything and everythingto focus solely on her.
I looked at Chloe that first night and sensed such thirst. So much need. But she didn’t seem like another emotional vampire. She gives. If only Mom had what Dad gave her but shared it with us. Rewarded him for giving it to all of us instead of hoarding it all for herself.
But… if I give my wife a baby, what if she only showers that baby with her love? What if she only focuses on the child like my father only focused on my mother?
The twitching in my finger starts again and I see Chloe staring at my hand.
Elijah and Sabrina arrive and both her and my focus moves to them.
Sabrina is dressed in black, despite Grace’s request. Sabrina is probably making a statement about being in grief, but not for her mother-in-law, I don’t think. Those two butted heads; Sabrina never hesitated to play my mother’s game right back.
Those who don’t know her might think she’s grieving, hiding under those big sunglasses, her mouth tight, but I’m sure it’s because she doesn’t want to be here. I can relate.
Eli has his hand on her lower back and she’s stiff.
Grace handled all the arrangements including choosing the casket, flowers, set up, even wardrobe for everyone. She channeled our mother for certain, becoming almost manic about precision. She won’t be happy at Sabrina’s rebellion, but unlike my mother who would make cutting remarks about it, knowing Grace, she’ll let it slide out of relief that Sabrina came.
Grace ran through today’s details with us repeatedly, driving the point that she needed to create the perfect event to honor our mother as part of her own grieving process. The rest of us were more concerned about security. Particularly me and Jonah. With everything pointing to Eli’s enemies in New York running our parents over and only succeeding in killing one of them, of course we believed we should have a more lowkey funeral to keep the rest of the family safe.
My father balked, insisting my mother’s wishes for her funeral be carried out. To mimic that of other Steele family members. My dead brother’s. My grandfather’s. My grandmother’s. Because Steele family members belong in the Steele family section of the cemetery near their home.
We were all invited to arrive early by the funeral home, to “visit” with my mother privately in order to say our goodbyes. As far as I know, each of us declined. Nobody would dare set eyes upon her for the last time with her looking less than her best. She made this request in a drunken monologue after Thad’s funeral. Nobody would be permitted to look upon her dead body with sadness, lying about her looking like she was at peace when we would know there would be no peace for us because she’d haunt us, shrilly screaming to remember how she looked when she was alive instead of frozen in death. She wanted the casket closed and for no one who knew her in life to see her body.
Ash didn’t show up for last night’s meal and pre-funeral meeting. Grace has had several phone chats with him, but none of us has seen him since the day we landed in New York, at the hospital.
Security won’t be seating any of the guests that aren’t part of the immediate family until all of us are in our seats and I can see clusters of people waiting beyond security. Attendance is by invitation only, photo identification required.
Eli and Sabrina step up to greet Jonah, Grace, then Chloe.
Eli also hugs my wife, then shakes my hand and I pull my hand back early because my finger is twitching. He eyes my hand and our eyes meet. He wraps both arms around me and claps my back once.
“Easy, brother,” he says into my ear.
I return the back slap, though I say nothing. I want him to move along. Sabrina has just hugged Chloe without exchanging words, but the two of them exchange loaded glances that I find peculiar since they haven’t met.
I’ve given my wife space the past few days, doing my best to resist the urge to check trackers, bank accounts, or external surveillance. Either they’ve spoken on the phone or simply feel a commonality at the moment. Ken hasn’t reported her having company. She shopped two days ago, and he followed her. He’d have reported it if she had met with Eli’s wife.
I give Sabrina a perfunctory hug as she moves in front of me, expression unreadable under her sunglasses. I’ve never embraced my brother’s wife before, not even on their wedding day. She’s a curvy beauty with a curtain of long, black hair. I’m not sure I’ve ever even exchanged more than hellos and goodbyes with her in the year and a half they’ve been married.
These hugs are all phony, all a show for the shutters that are undoubtedly clicking in the distance. Grace and my father are the ones most concerned that we appear to be a close-knit family leaning on one another in our time of grief, because it’s what Mom would’ve wanted.
I’ve heard that phrase too many fucking times in the past week. Too many times in my life, in fact.
Sabrina moves past me, past my brother, and sits in the next empty chair.
A moment later, a gust of cold wind blows through us and Chloe shivers and is about to put a wrap from her lap around herself, but I immediately remove my blazer and settle it over her bare shoulders. The sun was out this morning, an extra-warm late-autumn day. The few light snowfalls we’ve had so far haven’t stuck. But I suspect this sudden chill speaks of things to come. Not only due to the weather but my father’s arrival, which is happening now.
Carson appears at Grace’s side and hands out thick red blankets to Grace, Chloe, and Sabrina, reserving one for Naomi who is approaching, walking beside her husband Josh. Chloe settles the blanket across her lap but she’s shivering under my coat. I put my arm around her.
Josh pushes the wheelchair my father is in. He’s in it just temporarily and despite his casts and arm sling with his other visible injuries, he still looks ten feet tall. Nothing frail about the man. His eyes are hard as they lock on the fire lily-covered casket.
He was released from the hospital yesterday, but didn’t come down for the family meal last night. I haven’t seen him since I left the hospital, shortly after he regained consciousness.
The first thing he uttered was, “Shan?”
Elijah broke the news that she didn’t make it. Dad’s eyes coasted across the five of us that were there before they closed and pain flooded his face. Grace and Naomi climbed onto the edge of the bed he was in and wept, failing at trying to comfort him, but comforting one another.
It was one of the ugliest moments of my life, and I’ve had quite a few.
