The Legacy (7 page)

Closing the door, I face my aunt, aware of what is
coming. Despite having little contact with them, I have always
been able to read Gladys and her brother Pete like a couple of
books. The two are exactly the same and I dread having to see
him just as much.

Gladys leans back in the chair and lights another cigarette,
and I take this moment to study her. She has always been a
heavy woman, but now her arms and legs are so swollen, she
looks ill. Her graying hair is a disheveled mess and her clothes
looks as if they haven’t seen soap and water in a while. She
truly looks unhappy, and for a moment I almost feel sorry for
her.

My aunt takes a long drag of the cigarette, blowing the
smoke upward. “Girl, when you up and moved to that white
state I thought you were crazy, but now I know you are. What
do think you’re doing marrying that white man?”

“I’m marrying that
man
because he loves me and makes
me happy.” I am unruffled by her bluntness. I am used to it
and well aware of her feelings of racial superiority. Her opinion
has always been that people should stay with their own kind.

Gladys laughs. “No, I don’t buy that, Cis. I can tell you
the real reason you’re with him.”
“Oh, really?” My attempt to sound amused is failing.
“Really,” she continues as if ours is the most natural
conversation
in
the world.
“See,
I think
you’re with
him
because you’re trying to make people think you’re better than
you are. You brought him here to show us that you’re moving
up in the world. You think being with him is gonna make you
look good.”
I had known it was coming, but I am still appalled that
she could think such a thing. I could never use someone like
that no matter how down I feel on myself.
Straightening my shoulders, I look at her intently. “Well,
Aunt Gladys, if that’s what you want to think, then feel free. I
know the truth. For the first time in my life I have someone
who truly loves and cares for me. I have a good life in Utah and
I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Just because I want a better
life
doesn’t
mean
I think
I’m better.
Anyone
who
wants
something bad enough and goes after it can be blessed with it.”

Velma is leaning against the wall, listening intently, never
uttering a word. She never does when her mother is speaking,
but this time she has no interest in her mother's words. Not
that she ever has, anyway. She is only interested in what Cisely
is saying. She has never been close to Cisely, but she truly
admires the way her cousin has changed her life. Velma has
made mistakes as well, and just like Cisely, Gladys never lets
her forget them.

“Good speech,” Gladys says, clapping her hands. “That
was a good speech, but let me ask you something. How much
does that man really know about you?” Wincing, I look away,
giving her the added fuel she needs to keep going. “Does he
know you’re used merchandise, probably fifty times over?”

Struggling not to cry, the tears escape anyway. “That is all
in the past. I am not–”
Gladys rides over my weak defense. “Does he know
about your druggie days? What about your drunkard days? And
how would he react if he knew about your nights of sleeping in
houses other than your own, waking up next to men you didn't
even know?” She punches up the spite level with each word.
I remain quiet as my heart revisits the despair I thought
I'd left behind. It seems my emotional relief has only been
temporary. I should have known better.
Watching the triumphant smile spread across Gladys’
face, I wait for her closing remarks.
“So you see, Cisely, you can never escape who you are.
You can never escape your life. You are what you are, and you,
Miss High and Mighty, are nothing more than a tramp trying to
change something that can’t be changed.”
I hastily brush the tears from my cheeks. “I’m not a
tramp, and I’m not that kind of person anymore.” But even as I
say the words, I don’t truly believe them. Surrendering to my
belief that it is useless to deny it any longer, I quietly leave.

Ingo takes one look at Cisely’s face as she emerges from
the house and knows she has been broken. He'd spent the
entire time hoping she would be strong, that Gladys would not
be able to hurt her more or break her spirit. She has done both,
and those familiar sad eyes that had once broken his heart are
back. Wordlessly, he pulls her close, pressing a comforting kiss
to her brow.

After a minute, she draws away, leaving his arms empty.
He knows she needs his comfort, but she won't allow him to
touch her, and he can only imagine what she'd gone through
with her aunt.

Ingo opens her car door. When he gets in, he puts the key
in the ignition but doesn’t start it. “Talk to me, love,” he says
softly, taking in her pain-filled expression.

“I can’t right now.”
“Cisely, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Please, just drive.”
Starting the car, Ingo blinks back tears. Swallowing his

The only words spoken between us are my directions to
Mama's apartment.
As we pull up in front of the old building, dozens of
memories flood my mind. I lived in this building with my
mother until I turned sixteen. Then I left and stayed with
friends until I turned twenty and could afford a place of my
own. Until today, the pain of those memories had faded, but
now it is as fresh as ever.
As I move to get out of the car. Ingo places a gentle hand
on my arm.
“I love you, Cisely.” There is so much emotion in his eyes
and voice, I want to cry. “No matter what, I love you.”
“And I love you,” I say back, longing to have him hold
me, but feeling so unworthy of him. I know I need to get past
these feelings and let them go, but right now everything is too
fresh, the pain too intense. I just need some time to sort things
out.
When we enter the apartment, I push everything down
inside me and concentrate on what I need to do. Looking
around the place a bit, everything is just as it was before I left,
only cleaner. The insurance policy is on the kitchen table, just
as Gladys said. I sift through the papers, surprised at the
amount of coverage my mother had. I wonder how she had
even been able to afford a policy this size.
Two hundred thousand dollars! No wonder Aunt Gladys was so
upset. This would keep her supplied in cigarettes and booze for a long time.
S
howing the amount to Ingo, he whistles and looks over the
papers.
I know
it
isn't
a
lot
of
money
to
him,
but
he
understands why it is to me.
Refolding the policy, I take a moment to look around the
room a final time, memorizing little details I’d long since
forgotten. Then realizing there is no comfort to be gained here,
I slip the policy into my purse and we leave.

At the hotel, Ingo sits next to Cisely on the sofa while she
calls the funeral home and makes an appointment. He admires
the way she is able to take care of the arrangements, and if he
didn't already know her age, he would never guess she is only
twenty-two. All the trials she’s faced in her young life have
matured her fast.

Later, as he sits with Cisely in the funeral director’s office
listening
to
them discuss
the
arrangements,
he
can’t
help
watching her, and he allows his gaze to travel over her beautiful
features. She seems like a different person since leaving her
aunt’s house, but he knows the real Cisely is still in there
somewhere. He just needs to help her remember how special
she is. To him, she is the most amazing person in the world and
their marriage can't happen soon enough.

As he continues to watch her, longing flows through him.
He aches to be alone with her, to feel her in his arms, her body
molded against his, her breath on his face, and her lips pressed
against his own. Never before has he ever needed the touch of
a woman. Before meeting Cisely he’d never really given marital
intimacy a thought. He had never been close enough to anyone
to think that far ahead. But now things are different, and he is
anxious to be married and share that intimacy with Cisely. They
just need to get past this trial and get on with their plans.

After the final arrangements are made, Ingo takes Cisely
out to dinner. She says very little and he doesn’t push her to
talk. He's determined to be there for her and assure her of his
unconditional love. She will open up when she is ready. Until
then, he will wait.

I absently gaze through the balcony doors and take in
downtown Asheville. The city lights are beautiful, blending into
the gray darkening skyline.

No matter how hard I try, the clutter of negative feelings
will not leave my head or my heart. I've been trying nonstop all
afternoon to let them go, but they have only become stronger.
The conversation with my aunt did a number on me, and her
hateful words
have
renewed the
torment
I thought
I'd
conquered. My new-found self confidence is gone now, and in
its place is the all too familiar self doubt. Maybe the feelings
hadn't gone away after all but had only lay dormant for a short
season.