Autumn Leaves (29 page)

“Jesus,” Craig said, “not everything is about you!”

“So why are you calling me at 5:00 a.m.? Even sluts need to sleep, you know.”

“It’s Maria.”

“What about Maria?” she asked, feeling very cold all of a sudden. “Craig!”

“She…There was an accident.” That’s when she realized he could hardly speak, and alcohol might not be the reason. Rebecca felt her own tears rising as she tried to brace herself for the unspeakable.

“She didn’t make it.”

“No.” It seemed like a good, sane reaction. She talked to Maria, and laughed with her just a few hours ago. Maria was the only one of her friends who thought without a doubt that Rebecca was right listening to what her feelings told her to do. Her beautiful, charming friend and sister-in-law.

“No. How could that happen?”

“Streets were slippery,” he said. “The snow...she took that curve too fast.”

“I’m so sorry.” The words came automatically before Rebecca was even fully capable of comprehending what he was telling her. It couldn’t be. She sat up to put her feet on the floor, needing something more stable than the yielding surface of the waterbed.

“I can’t forbid you to come to the funeral,” Craig said, his words pronounced a lot more clearly now. “Maria would want you there, but don’t come with your girlfriend. I don’t want a spectacle.”

Any sympathy Rebecca might have felt for him was gone in a heartbeat, leaving room for the familiar anger. That was better. Anger helped her ignore that since the moment she became aware of herself, of who she was, her life had crumbled around her. Even with his wife dead, he could only see himself. She simply shut the cell phone, ending the call.

Callie didn’t ask. She simply wrapped her arms around Rebecca from behind, holding on tight. She understood that something horrible happened. They stayed like this for a long time before Rebecca found the words to explain.
No secrets.

“I’m so scared,” she said. There was more than one reason. She’d have to get through the next day, have to acknowledge that Craig wasn’t making a cruel joke. Maria was gone.

I’m so scared of losing you too.

“I know,” Callie simply said, with tears in her voice. In the short time she knew her, Maria had been a friend to Callie as well. Surprisingly, her words did more than any reassurances could have. Callie survived the stagnation that came with fear and moved on. Rebecca had been there before too. She knew she could do it. Just not right now.

* * * *

“Are you sure it’s okay to go?” Callie had asked twice already. Maybe more. Rebecca always gave her the same answer, but Callie felt bad leaving her to go to the choir meeting as Francine had asked. They wanted to do something special for Maria. How would that work, Callie wondered, when the thread that held them together was gone? Sure, they’d had some nice performances, but from what she’d understood quickly, Maria had always been the star. She was the one who should have done performances on real stages, but shared her talent with the people in town instead. Maybe she was happy. Maybe she had had bigger dreams than that.

“I’m sure. I’ll meet you for lunch later.” Rebecca had visits and calls on her own to make. To her brother-in-law. To her still-husband who had taken their kids from her in a desperate measure. Scared didn’t even begin to describe it. Would they ever be able to find peace in Autumn Leaves?

“Call me if you need anything?”

Rebecca smiled wearily. “You do the same?”

“I promise.”

Callie was already late, but she turned around to kiss Rebecca before she left. Tenderly, for the temporary good-bye, like couples did. Even in the deepest sadness, it was time to remind them that now, they were.

* * * *

The women of the choir were all deeply saddened. They also came up with a suggestion that Callie couldn’t possibly follow. Maria said before that she should have a solo, but there was no way it could happen at Maria’s funeral.

“I think you should do it. Maria would be so proud of you,” Francine said with tears in her eyes. Suddenly, all eyes were on Callie.

“No, I can’t,” she protested. “The people in town wouldn’t like it. I don’t want to cause a scene on a day like this.” Maria probably wouldn’t have cared, but Callie could just imagine what happened if the choir gave her a more exposed role for the funeral service. She might be good enough for the solo part. However, both she and Rebecca would be under observation. With the future of the family life still unclear, Callie didn’t want to take a risk. That, Maria would understand.

Callie shuddered. She still expected her to come through the door at any moment, take her place behind the piano. Why her? Callie had been to church more often in the past few weeks than she had in her entire life, and still she didn’t understand the whole deal. Her mother’s beliefs had always been somewhat eclectic, to say the least. Callie had an on-and-off communication with the Higher Power that might be God, but she still couldn’t grasp why things like this had to happen. She didn’t even realize she was crying again, not that it mattered, because pretty much everyone here was. Maria was loved by many.

“We are the ‘people in town’ too,” Francine said. “You know that there was this stupid petition to kick you out of the choir, but it didn’t come from any of us.”

“Thank you. I still think this should be done by someone who knew Maria better than I did.”

Francine sighed. “Maybe you have a point there. We kind of wanted it to be you. You know, Maria went against the rules a lot of the time.”

“So you want me to be the poster child for rebellion?” It was hard not to raise her voice. Callie reminded herself that everybody here was sad and mourning. “I want to live here too. I’ve had enough unwanted attention, if you remember.” There was awkward silence, as everyone in the room knew what she was talking about. The first time she came to practice after her brief hospital stay, her face still clearly bore the marks of the attack. “For Maria,” she pleaded. “Let it be someone else. I can’t do this.”

“Callie, don’t you think Maria would have liked—”

“No!” It was too claustrophobic in there. She needed to breathe.

* * * *

“Hey. How are you? How are the kids doing?” Anxiety made her ramble. Rebecca had flashed back on the last conversation she had with David, with Dina around, when Rebecca practically begged her to stay. The memory mortified her.

“They’re sad,” he said calmly. “No one can really believe it.”

“Can I talk to them? You didn’t make them go to school, did you?”

“Of course not.” There was no scorn in David’s voice. “Maggie’s here. Honey, it’s Mom.”

At the moment, it was impossible to acknowledge the red-hot anger she felt at having to ask to talk to her own daughter. However, without Callie by her side, of only for a few hours, she didn’t feel that strong and confident, just so very sad.

“Sweetie?”

“Mommy!” Maggie seemed happy to hear her voice, giving Rebecca a brief moment of hope that everything would be all right after all. Then her voice changed as she asked, “Did Dad tell you about Aunt Maria?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, not knowing what else to say. Maggie was old enough to understand about death, which was worse somehow. You couldn’t create nice smoke screens about heaven and eternal happiness. “I’m sorry.”

“When are we coming back?” Maggie asked.

Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. “I hope soon, sweetie. I don’t know yet.”

“Okay.” Maggie sounded miserable. From the fact that her aunt had died, or that she and Rebecca were apart, it was hard to tell. Probably both. Rebecca didn’t want to let her go, but she knew she had to before anyone else would take the phone from her.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I need to talk to Daddy some more.”

“Are you coming to visit?”

“Sure I will. I promise.”

David said something to Maggie before she handed the phone back to him, then there was silence. Obviously he waited until she was out of earshot.

“Rebecca, I’m sorry, this is probably the worst possible moment, but I guess we need to keep things in motion. I imagine you’re busy, and the girls are just settling in, so I’d like to ask you to come visit after the funeral. There are too many things they have to deal with now. Give them some time.”

“Time for what? I don’t want them to think I don’t want to see them!”

“They’ll understand.”

They wouldn’t. Dina was distant already. Maggie...

“One more thing,” David said. “I don’t know what you’ve planned, if you wanted to...I don’t know, work more. There’s not going to be too much left from the house once everything’s paid for, and I gave Mom back her share. So it’s okay if you take what you like of the furniture. Just leave the rest.”

“Well...thanks.”

“Look, I don’t know how to do this any better than you do.”

“I know! It’s just…”

“I know, Rebecca,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. She was one of your best friends.”

In a way
, Rebecca thought,
she knew me better than you did.

* * * *

There was something bipolar about life in a small town, Callie reflected. Moods were shifting quickly and radically. People might have been suspecting before. Now that David had moved the girls out of town, they knew.

The girls in the choir might be kind and sympathetic, but they had just lost one of their own. There were many other folks for which the novelty of an out lesbian couple hadn’t worn off, on the contrary. Rebecca had told her about her conversation with David. She seemed too tired and dispirited to care about the looks that followed them. Callie was no longer the poor girl to whom almost bad things happened.
Bad things happened all right, thank you very much.
She was viewed with suspicion, and by proxy, Rebecca was too.

The girl at the cash register in the grocery store boldly continued reading the newspaper.

“Could you get this?” Rebecca asked. The girl didn’t even look up. Callie had a flash of panic as she thought of the funeral they both had to attend in a matter of days. “Hey. I didn’t grow a pair of horns, did I? If so, I still have the cash to pay for my groceries, so would you mind?”

“Rebecca,” Callie said softly, touching her arm briefly.

“No! I’m not just letting this slide. I’ve had some days from hell; somebody close to me died. I don’t care if you don’t want to talk to me. Just do your job! Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Rebecca said when there was no reaction, and withdrew a couple of bills from her wallet. “Keep the rest. For the friendly service.”

When they sat in the car, she asked, “Is it going to be like this from now on?”

How could Callie have told her? She planned to remain on the safe and mostly closeted side, finish her book, and get the hell out of town. Plans were altered.

“They will get used to it.”

“Really?” Rebecca gave her a doubtful look. “The woman in there, she’s young! How can she be like this?”

“Because she doesn’t know better? Maria did, you know. There are others too. We’re not completely alone.”

Rebecca’s silence spoke volumes, and considering the fact that she spent a big part of her life in this town, Callie probably had reason to be worried. What would be the better solution for them in the long run, stay or leave?

“It’s not always going to be like this,” she promised.

* * * *

It was Sheila, Francine’s sister, who sang
Amazing Grace
during the service. There was too little space in the church for all the mourners. Maria had had a big family, in blood and of the heart.

Even with all the people around her, Rebecca felt cold. She couldn’t stop shivering. David and Laurie sat next to Craig in another pew. They hadn’t brought the girls. Who was with them now, Rebecca wondered anxiously. Everybody had greeted her briefly and politely under the watchful eyes of their neighbors. She saw Roz and Sonia. The LaRue family. Betty was crying. She looked at Rebecca, but quickly glanced away.

Rebecca felt like crying too, surprised that she still had tears left. She made it nearly through the heartbreaking rendition, but when the choir joined Sheila, Rebecca’s control crumbled. She focused on Callie standing in the second row, directing all her attention on her as if there was no one else in the filled church.

“You do what your heart tells you to. How many people have the guts to do that?”
Maria had asked.

In her heart, it was easy, her gratitude for having been gifted with a friend like Maria equaling the pain over having lost her. Knowing what those words meant. That’s why Rebecca didn’t want to see the looks she knew were directed at her, pity and disgust. It seemed like such a bad cliché to feel like the walls were closing in on her, like she was about to faint.

“...But now, I’m found. Was blind, but now I see.”

When their eyes met across the aisle, Betty’s were sad, longing. Maybe what Rebecca saw was simply a reflection of her own feelings as she remembered a time when their little circle was intact. A little harmless gossip at the breakfast table, mutual support, and sharing of recipes and babysitting each other’s kids
. I wasn’t the one who threw it away.
Betty looked so lost even with her husband and sons that Rebecca felt drawn to her. Maria’s death was slamming the fact home. Life was too short to hold grudges, and Rebecca still believed that if she looked inside herself, Betty didn’t hate Rebecca—or Callie.