Armstrong by Bill Bailey |
A Wake For Change |
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Amie Joelle Keller |
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Face
by Rachel Busnardo |
Five
days ago my Grandpa died. He was a hundred and two years young. I found
this news out from my brother Jeremiah who is basically the only one in
my entire nutty family –both sides- that will even talk to me. It’s
been this way for almost three years so I’m used to it. Jeremiah informed
me that there was going to be a wake for Grandpa North. This meant that
if I wanted to attend I would have to show my face amongst a crowd who didn’t
want to see it. In fact judging my slightly off kilter family I’m
sure I will get a round house eruption of earth shattering gasps and judgmental
grunts.
So all that considered I skipped the funeral. I couldn’t go into the church or out to the cemetery, a force of uncanny gigantic proportions was stopping me. That and the fact that I didn’t want to steal away any attention from my Grandpa. He earned his time in the sun. I mean of course he earned that much it’s not like he is going to be sun bathing in the Caribbean any time soon. Now I am sitting outside McCaffrey’s Pub in my little red rental car. From my vantage point everything seems to be running smoothly. The dark wood interior and soft lighting of the pub compliments my family members, who for the most part are laughing solemnly into their beer mugs. I can’t go in there. The second I do it will be total chaos. I will be the herald for anguish and despair amongst the cavalry. This is not how I pictured getting back into my family’s life. Of course sitting outside of the pub watching the rain pelt my windshield isn’t really doing much for me either. I wish the rain drops were strong enough to knock me unconscious than I wouldn’t have to sit here ruminating, contemplating, and loathing my very existence. Part of me knows I have every right to walk in there and make my peace with Grandpa North’s spirit. I mean if I don’t pay my regards then what if his restless soul haunts me for eternity? I wonder if he accepts visa. The commercials say it’s accepted anywhere but do they mean the afterlife too? By the way how much do regards run for these days? I’m on a starving waitress/actress budget here. Oh crud I’ve been spotted. Why didn’t I rent a Mafioso type car where the windows are completely blacked out to the watchful human world? Thankfully the figure approaching my car is just Jeremiah. He is my oldest sibling and only brother. I give him a small wave as he circles the front of my car. Without being invited he climbs into the passenger’s seat. He’s in a black business suit and he even has nice shoes on. That’s a major step up on the style scale for a software programmer. His murky blonde hair is a mess but hey not even Grandpa North can have everything. “Eliza I am so glad you came.” It’s good to hear his scruffy low self confidence voice in person as opposed to over the phone. He leans across the cup holders and hugs me. I don’t let out the whimper I have been holding back since I arrived in my home state of Illinois. Or as I like to call it Illinoying. “Jer” I say feeling myself deflate into a two week old birthday balloon. “I can’t go in there.” “Why not?” He asks innocently enough even though his face has this look that just screams “if I were you I wouldn’t go in there”. “Is Sherri inside?” I know the answer. Of course she is in the pub. She probably arranged the whole wake and went as far as making place cards for the bloody thing. That’s my big sister though always ready to be perfect with a side order of impeccable. Jeremiah shrugs out a yes. Then he begins to draw a stick figure on one of my fogging up windows. How this man grew up to be thirty five is beyond me. “I wish this feud could end already. Everyone is sick of it.” “I have apologized through the roof there is nothing else I can do. She has to stamp my passport for me even to gain entrance into the family again. In fact if she knew you stayed in touch with me you would be evicted from Sherri-land. Let’s face it I’m a red flagged immigrant in a hostile country.” “Mom misses you.” “Oh, when does she have time to do that?” My voice propels up two octaves but I continue. “She is way to busy calling me tramp, whore, and slut to think differently of me.” “That’s not true mom never uses those words. She simply says what you did was undignified.” “Oh, it’s my life goal to be dignified.” “Eliza I am sick of being in the middle here. Your sisters, were family, move on.” “I want to she doesn’t. Do you think it’s any fun spending Christmas in California where the weather is monotone and the company I keep is bleak?” Jeremiah pats his legs in frustration. He furrows his brow towards me than in a slow Texas drawl he says “I dare you varmint.” Just hearing the dare makes me want to sprint into the pub at an Olympic worthy rate. Of course he knew I couldn’t resist a dare. I’m spiteful like that. “Fine” I say evenly. I can’t freak out now this is just the storm before the apocalypse. Meticulously I fix my hair in the car mirror. My unnatural blonde tresses are frizzing out because of the rain. On the plus side though my makeup looks great, especially since I lined my oak brown eyes with a plum pencil. All things considered I appear as if I am ready for reunion war games. Jeremiah opens my car door for me and reaches out his hand. I can tell he is anxious. Although I don’t know why he is not the one who has to go in there and face a roomful of frienemies. Walking across the street I swear I hear the Jaws theme song playing in the distance. This is not going to begin or end well. “You’re shaking.” Jeremiah whispers as we reach the door. “I’m freezing.” I say flatly. The truth is I am feeling like a cheetah in Antarctica -a little cold but more out of place than anything else. “You’ll be fine Eliza.” Jeremiah hugs me then yanks the door to the pub wide open. Slowly I traipse in and look around the room. No one has noticed me yet. I take another step forward and the sound of my pointy heels on the wood floor is enough to wake the dead - pun most definitely intended. Then just like at any major sports game during a dramatic moment -sans the losers with no class- a hush falls over the crowd. The silence is only temporary because a glass breaks towards the back of the pub. I follow the noise and see that it was Sherri’s champagne flute which is now in pieces. “What in Grandpa North’s name are you doing here Lizzie?” Sherri snarls at me like a wrestling champ. She also went for the low blow using my baby nickname. I want to correct her but mild name calling is barely the fracas I had envisioned. “I came to pay my respects.” I say blocking out the crowd of familiar yet fresh faces. “You have no respect for yourself so you shouldn’t really go around trying to give any away.” Sherri has a big nose and it flares when she talks. I forgot that considering it’s been three years since we’ve stood face to face. “This…” I hold out my hands motioning to the entire pub. “Is not about us.” “You ruined my life! It will always be about what you did to me.” Sherri sends tears down her face at the speed of a humming bird. She is three years older than me and has putridly colored red hair. It’s like she aimed for Debra Messing but got Carrot Top instead. And now that her face is all red and puckered she looks even worse. But underneath her horrible: hair, clothes, and overall appearance I still love her. Plus I miss her more than I missed bagels when I went on that low carb diet four years ago. Yep, my history shows I always do stupid things. “I’ve made a few mistakes. And sadly you paid a price for them. But Sher that was three years ago. Time is supposed to be what the doctor ordered in situations like this. What can I do to make you just forgive me?” I plead. My mother lets out a cough just as I hear my sister take in a deep tear constricted breath. Sherri fixes her eyes directly at mine. Then she screams out a monologue that I am sure has Grandpa North getting some exercise even in his freshly minted casket. “YOU CAN REWIND TO THREE YEARS AGO. YOU CAN NOT SLEEP WITH MY HUSBAND. YOU CAN NOT GET CAUGHT BY ME. YOU CAN NOT GET PREGNANT. AND YOU CAN NOT GIVE THE KID UP FOR ADDOPTION.YOU COULD DO ALL THAT AND THEN MAYBE I WILL FORGIVE YOU!!!” A few distant relatives who didn’t know the whole story let out those earth shattering gasps I had predicted earlier. I look up to a ceiling fan and watch it make a few trips around. I kind of wish that thing could knock me out. Then my whole family could leave while trampling over me and preferably giving me some major concussion. I could wake up tomorrow with no recollection of who I am. “Sherri” I say softly “The second time travel is invented that’s exactly what I plan on doing.” I know being a snide wench is really not the best route to take in this drama filled road trip but I have no other options. I’m genuinely sorry about everything. In fact I have repented so many times in last three years that the next time around I am sure to get a free sandwich with my overly stamped card. “Shut up!” Sherri says through clenched teeth. She charges at me pummeling me to the ground upon contact. I feel her grab my hair in typical girl fight fashion. But I fight back by snapping the strap off of her ugly raisin colored dress. She punches at my face and I manage to kick her in the gut. I can’t tell but out of the corner of my eye I see creepy Uncle Greg smiling. Eww. Sherri elbows me in my chest but I roll a little to the left then ram directly into her back. I see her head slam to the ground but she quickly retracts and starts in on me again. “I’ll never forgive you” She yells thrashing her hands all over my face. “Could you at least try?” I murmur mainly because she won’t stop hitting me in the face for it to be any louder than a murmur. I pull back my right hand and clock her straight in the jaw. Were about to both shed more blood when I feel hands pulling me away. Looking back I see that Jeremiah is restraining me while my poor dad is holding back Sherri. She is wildly waving around a clump of my hair in her right hand. I wonder where the bald spot is! I watch as Sherri spits something onto the floor. It seems that I knocked out one of her front teeth. She looks like a hockey player now. “Lisszzzzeee get out of here.” Sherri says only when she talks she has a lisp that is undeniably funny. She cracks a smile at hearing her own voice but then quickly resumes to grimacing at me. “I will only go when you ssszzzaay you forgive me.” I mimic her lisp hoping to make her laugh. Sherri lets out a small chuckle. Maybe I am breaking through her armor and she is seeing how stupid this jousting tournament has become. “How can I forgive you when you ruined my good looksszz?” Sherri starts to laugh as tears begin to fall down her slightly bruised face. Her laughter increases to a psychotic level. That alone leads me to believe that she is allowing all of the tension from the last three years to evaporate into the dingy pub’s acoustics. My body shakes and then I realize I am crying through laughter too. How long has that been happening? I’m not really a crier or a laugher come to think of it. Jeremiah eases up on me and I break lose rushing immediately to Sherri “I’m sorry for everything especially the tooth. I’m going to pay for you to get it fixed.” Sherri reaches out and hugs me. It’s not a hostile hug either which means my rights to visit Sherri-land may just have been approved. “Isszz okay I am dating a dentisszzt.” She says into my ear. I giggle/cry at her lisp then respond “Good you’ll get a
disszzcount.” She laughs while pulling me back into an embrace.
Clapping comes from various directions of the room. Then my mom pops out
of nowhere and begins a group hug that looks more like a giant messy conga
line. “I’m getting passzzt it if you are?” Sherri says looking in my direction. “Well it depends” I reply. “How cute is this dentist?” “For the love of Grandpa North” Sherri crosses her arms while shaking her head at me. “Too soon huh” I say crinkling my nose. She smiles back letting me know she actually got the joke. Maybe she isn’t such a stiff after all. “Its sad our reunion had to happen over Grandpa North’s dead body.” I add. Jeremiah can’t resist the urge to smirk at me “Inappropriate as usual Eliza” I chuckle feeling as light and airy as a hat throwing
Mary Tyler Moore. That is if I looked good in hats and was willing to
throw one over a highly populated sidewalk. |
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