Love To Hate You

Skeletons in the closet

Mary

It's been two years today since my husband passed. A suffering sigh escapes me as I'm rifling through boxes. It was a tough decision to sell the house, but I'm glad I did. It was too hard to live there with all the memories everywhere I looked.
Well, shoot, I know I put his favorite cap in one of these assorted boxes. The moving truck showed up with the last load two hours ago, and I've been rushing ever since. I want to visit Jeremy's grave and bring him his favorite hat, but I need to do it before Brandon gets there. I haven't seen him since the funeral, and I'd sell my soul to keep it that way.
I pause, recalling the traumatizing day. It was the first time I found out Jeremy had an ex-wife. He always told me he was never married. That wasn't the worst of it. Jeremy was cheating on me with multiple women. They all showed up at the funeral. Some apologized, and others avoided me. His ex-wife made herself known by asking if she was in the will. When I told her I had no idea she existed, she ignored me like the rest. If that wasn't enough, there's a memory seared into my brain that I'll never forget. I was asked to say a few words. As I approached the small stand amongst a vast crowd of strangers, I seize up. I don't know if it was the shock of his ex-wife and her candor, him cheating, or the realization he's actually gone sinking in, but I did what I was dreading the entire time. I burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

Ever since I was a little girl, whenever something bad happened that I couldn't deal with, nervous laughter would bubble up. Only my family knows about my little quirk. Not even Jeremy knew. So I could understand the gasps and whispers in the crowd, but Brandon didn't take it politely. He stood up to stand in front of me, pointing his finger in my face. I'll never forget his words. Even now, I shudder at the memory. He said; "You're the reason he's dead. If you hadn't had a fit over that stupid pie, he'd still be here today!"

It stopped my laughter on the spot, and I began crying, loud and ugly. That was the first time I've ever seen my dad hit someone. I didn't stay to watch Jeremy be buried. It didn't feel right after the scene. I'm angry Brandon stole that closure from me. I spent a lot of time and money on therapy after the entire ordeal and put the house up for sale a week after the incident. Jeremy was the one who wanted the big house. I was always more comfortable in a small, modest place. That thought leaves me feeling guilty, but years of therapy have me correcting myself. "It's okay to like different things. You don't have to feel guilty." I say out loud. Just then, I find his hat tucked between two box's and it's enough of a relief to put a small smile on my face.

The cemetery is unusually busy. I place the hat on the stone and sit cross-legged near him. This trip is easier. It feels more like a goodbye than an omission of guilt.

"I know we didn't make a lot of memories, and I didn't show my feelings all that often, but I hope you know I loved you more than I loved anyone in my entire life... I forgive you for cheating, and I forgive myself for never feeling like I was enough... I'm leaving you now, but a part of me will stay here with you, and I hope it's enough."

I wipe the tears away and look up into the clouds, lying back next to his grave. Once I'm able to stop crying, I part from him. When I enter the parking lot, the clouds become thicker, and the smell of electricity fills the air. Storms terrify me, always have. Rushing toward my car, I spot Brandon's black Ford with the unmistakable neon green rims. I turn in a circle looking for him, thankful I don't see him. Not wasting any time I get into my car and drive off in a hurry. My heart hurts today, and I don't want to go home to an empty house full of boxes. So I go to the only other place I can...

Oliva's on the porch, painting her toes when I pull into the drive. She glances up and gives me a quick wave before going back to her task. Her blonde hair falls over her face and glistens in the sun. My brother is the oldest, I'm the baby in the family. I'm also the only one with dark brown hair like my dad, but I got my mom's curvy figure and freckles.

"Where's dad?" I ask. Her foot slips, and the coral polish smears on her toe.

"Shit! He's in there somewhere with my hellions. Probably in the kitchen pumping them full of sugar."

Olivia's hellions are twin boys in their terrible twos, and I love them. She recently left her husband and moved back in with mom and dad until she gets back on her feet. Dallas got into a fight with some guys at a bar and messed up the guy pretty well. He's spending the next decade behind bars. Dad warned her he was a bad seed, said the drink had a hold of him, but Olivia didn't listen. She said she loved him, and that was that.
I wonder what he thought of Jeremy? We never did have that talk. It all happened too fast. I know he wasn't too fond of him when we came to visit because he had that look he gets when he's annoyed.

"Auntie Mary!"

The twins come running to me with faces full of chocolate.

"Do you want a Sundae?" they ask in sync, which causes a pinching game as they blame one another for copying the other. They're words come out all mashed together the way toddlers talk, and it makes me want to gush in tears at their cuteness. Mom gives me a quick hug, going out to the porch to see Olivia, no doubt. We were never close, thank God for dad, or I don't think I would have made it in this family. The kids smear chocolate on me and go back to stuffing their mouths with ice cream.

"How you doing, baby?"

I muster up a smile I didn't know I had in me and lean into my dad's hug.

"Okay, I guess. I just couldn't go home yet... it's too quiet."

He pulls back, studying my face. I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back tears.

"You know what I think?"

OH no, I know that tone. When dad gets an idea, he won't quit until I'm convinced. Even if it's terrible.

"Now mar, don't give me that look, it's a good idea... I think you need a vacation."

A vacation? Really? I need to get my life sorted and my head on my shoulders. A vacation is the last thing I need.

"I don't think so, dad. I haven't even settled in yet. I just moved."

He tips his head to the side and grins.

"Your stuff isn't going to grow legs and run away on you... You look tired, baby. I think you need a break. A reset."

He's not wrong there. I'm always tired, no matter how long I sleep. I've never been outside of Portland. It would be nice to leave all my worries behind for a time but it's not the most responsible thing to do.

"Isn't that just running away?" I suggest. He laughs, and I do too, like it's contagious.

"Is that what they're calling vacations nowadays? What about a cruise?"

Oh, that sounds tempting. I've always wanted to go on a cruise, and he knows it.

"Okay dad, I'll think about it." I say, mainly to change the subject, and mom calls us to the table, saving me from the pressure of my dad and his persuasive advice.
I leave just before dark with a belly full of pot roast and a tossed salad. I'm not usually a picky eater, but I don't eat moms mashed potatoes because it's lumpy. I can't stand mixed textures. Dad and I have an arrangement, so mom's feelings don't get hurt. I put them on my plate, and dad eats them when she's not looking. It's been that way for as long as I can remember.

Thankfully, the storm passed with little more than a shower. The rain has moistened the earth and flowers. I take a long, deep breath of the fragrant air, fully opening my window. Traffic is dead, I pass less than a handful of cars. When I arrive home, I'm hesitant to go inside. Nothing feels right anymore. It feels like I'm watching myself go through the motions, void of any feeling at all. That's when I decided to do it.

"I'm going on a cruise."