Vivienne's Guilt (4 page)

Vivienne

I stare out blankly from the altar of our church, and I am overwhelmed by the number of friends and family who’ve shown up to pay their respects. The shrew is here, front and center, and staring daggers at me. If looks could kill, let’s just say that Cassie would be planning my funeral next and inheriting a child. Cass and Tillie are seated in chairs to my right. I wanted them up here with me. I need their strength if I am to have any chance of keeping it together. The three of us united. It’s how it will be from now on.

I take one last look over at my girls and feel Cassie’s cold fingers tighten around mine. Our eyes meet, and she gives me an encouraging smile as I rise from my seat, smoothing down the fabric of my black skirt. When I move to take a step forward, the room begins to spin. I close my eyes, pulling in deep breaths and blowing them out slowly. With measured, careful steps, I inch my way over to the podium and grip the wooden top with trembling hands. Tears well in my eyes, and my throat begins to collapse in on itself as my heart thrums loudly in my ears.
This is it,
I think to myself
. This is goodbye.

Clearing my throat, I adjust the tiny microphone in front of me and introduce myself. “Hi,” I begin, looking around the packed room. “Thank you all for being here today. For those of you who may not know who I am, my name is Vivienne Parker, and I was lucky enough to be married to that” —I motion to the casket on the left side of the room— “incredible man.” Tears sneak out from the corners of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

My eyes pause on the wedding photo that Cassie had framed. It sits high on a stand surrounded by floral arrangements of various sizes and colors. I stare at his beautiful, perfect face. Those dimples set so deep in his cheeks. Vibrant blue eyes filled with so much emotion. At the two of us, so young and in love and so anxious to begin our life together. A life that held so much promise...so many dreams.

“Abbott...” I cry, clutching my hands to my chest as silent tears stream down my face. “God, where do I even begin?” I whisper, shaking my head to myself, keeping my gaze lowered, unable to meet the tear-filled eyes that I know are staring at me. There aren’t words to adequately describe the depth of my love for this man. Anything I say will fall short.

“They say that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Abbott was my reason. Everything good in my life leads right back to him. The nine years that I was blessed enough to spend loving and being loved by this incredible man was a perpetual spring. Our season was cut short—ended far too soon. Ours is a love that without a doubt would have lasted a lifetime.”

Taking a deep breath, I dab away my tears as I lift my head to address the crowd. “Who was Abbott Parker?” I ask, chewing on my lip and tasting the salt of my tears. Every set of eyes in the room seem to find mine at that moment. “I guess that depends on who you ask. He was so many things to so many different people...

“You see, Abbott wasn’t just one thing. To me, Abbott Parker was everything. To his friends, Abbott was the life of the party. He was fun, and he was funny. Abbott was always trying to make those around him laugh, many times at his own expense.” I laugh weakly. “Abbott was dependable and honorable and loyal. If you were lucky enough to cross paths with Abbott Parker, you found yourself a friend for life,” I say, glancing up at the funeral party and watching as dozens of heads nod in agreement.

“To his business associates, Abbott was reliable. He was one of the most sought after architects in the area, and it was because Abbott took so much care and so much pride in everything that he touched. He would not rest until every project was absolutely perfect until every client was completely satisfied. He went above, he went beyond and made it look effortless because Abbott was not putting on a show. This is just who he was.

“To the autism community in and around the New Orleans area, my husband was a hero. He would hate that I just referred to him as such, but it’s the truth.” Looking back to my left, I whisper, “Sorry, babe,” with a tear-filled smile. “When we were designing the lake house, it was his idea to include plans for a camp for children with Asperger’s. That camp was his pride and joy. He looked forward to spending time with these children every summer, and I think I fell a little more in love with him for it.” I pause, feeling my heart clench tightly in my chest. “This will be the first summer that I have to do this without him. It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” I cry, wiping tears away from my face. “As long as there is breath in this body, I will keep his work alive.

“He was smart, kind, and generous. Abbott was all of those things in spades. But, what I’m most proud of, was the incredible father that he was to our baby girl. Matilda Grace Parker was the light of his life. Abbott and I both grew up without our fathers. There was nothing more important to him than being there for our baby girl...than her knowing without a doubt how much she was loved and cherished. He was an active participant in every aspect of Tillie’s life. We were a family. A
real
family. Abbott died....” A sob escapes, and I pause to collect myself. “I’m sorry. He died doing what he loved most: doting on his daughter.

“Abbott Jude Parker was the love of my life,” I choke out. “He was my heart, my soul, my
everything
,” I say, smiling wistfully through my tears. “He was my very best friend, and God, how I miss...him...” I bring my trembling fingers to my lips and feel the wetness of my tears. “I never imagined that I’d be standing here...a widow at twenty-six. That I would have to raise our baby girl without him,” I say, my voice breaking. “I thought that I understood pain. I thought that I knew what it meant to feel sad...to feel alone...but I. Knew. Nothing,” I sob. “Because what I didn’t realize before was that you can only experience those emotions to the depth of which you’ve felt their counterparts. You can only feel loss as strongly as you’ve felt love, sadness as deep as your happiest moments, and you can’t possibly know what it means to be truly alone until you’ve been so connected to someone else that you can no longer tell where they end and you begin, only to have them ripped away,” I explain through a torrent of tears. “I have been loved to the depths of my soul. I’ve known love that most people only ever dream of, and now I know pain in equal measure. This is the consequence of all-consuming love.” I wave my hands, gesturing to the mess that I’ve become. “And I hope that each of you is lucky enough to find a love with the power to completely destroy you because to experience that kind of love is worth any price.” With my hand on my heart, I turn my face up to the heavens. “It was worth it. God, Abbott...loving you was more than worth it.”

I look around the church and force myself to smile through tears at our guests. I open the floor to any friends or family that would like to share their memories of Abbott and take my seat next to Cassie and Tillie. After a few friends from school share their fondest moments with my husband, Cassie makes her way to the podium.

“Abbott was more than a friend. He was my
brother
. Abbott was my
family
, and family is not something I have a lot of. I don’t have a mother or father...no aunts, uncles, or cousins. But what I have is worth so much more. I have a family who
chose
me. I may have been born to one who threw me out with the trash, but there is no way they could have ever come close to what I’ve found in Viv, Abbott, and Matilda.

“I know I’m not an easy person to love. I can be a royal pain in the...behind. I have issues a mile long. I’m selfish and high maintenance. But, Abbott never pushed me away. He accepted me and didn’t make me feel like a third wheel.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to one of the only people who ever truly cared for me. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your family. I promise to take good care of them. ’Til we meet again.” Cassie kisses two fingers and raises them in the air, then she makes her way back to her seat, a sobbing mess. As I lean over to comfort her, I watch Tillie wander out to the center of the altar.

“It’s my turn now. Right, Mommy? You and Auntie gotted a turn. Can I talk now?” She looks so small standing up there in her pretty blue dress...her date dress. It was her idea to wear it, and she looks like a little angel. Abbott would approve.

I’m not sure what Tillie wants to say, and to be quite honest, I’m a bit scared. You just never know what will come out of that girl’s mouth. But, Abbott was her father, and if she wants a turn to speak, then I am going to let her have it. “Go ahead, sweet girl. It’s your turn.” I nod in approval.

Tillie smiles over at me and then turns her back to the crowd. She looks right up at the crucifix and begins. “Jesus...Jesus, I’m mad at you cuz you taked my Daddy away. I’m not gonna be your friend anymore if you don’t give him back. I don’t want him to be a angel. I just want him to be my Daddy. Please let him go home. Amen.” She puts her little hands on her hips and gives that statue the meanest eyes she can conjure.

Oh. My. God.
I walk over and lift my baby into my arms. I whisper to her that I love her and that her daddy loves her so much. I apologize over and over, and I am not even sure why, but I keep saying it. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I am so, so sorry.” There they are again. Those two little words. They feel so insignificant, but there is nothing else to say. I wish there were words to express how very sorry I am.

I peek out at the crowd, and even the manliest of men have tears streaming down their cheeks. Leave it to Tillie to make a bunch of grown men cry.

After the funeral, we all meet up at the lake house for a reception. We have a huge outdoor kitchen and covered pavilion with tables and chairs. Abbott’s company catered a late lunch for the entire funeral party. There is so much food, and still nothing looks appetizing. I could not keep anything in if I tried.

Today was hard. One of the hardest days of my life, but I’m relieved it’s over with. The last four days have been brutal.

I walk over to my mother’s table, where she is having quite an animated conversation with Tillie. Lord knows what that crazy girl is telling her Grammy. I hope she’s not getting me into trouble. “Hey, Momma,” I say as I lean over to hug her large frame. No matter how crazy she makes me, she still feels like home. Her smell is comforting. Her touch, soothing. “Thank you for being here. It means more to me than you know.” It took Abbott’s death to finally get my mother out to Magnolia Pines. She doesn’t drive more than a few miles from her house, and flying is out of the question. But, she faced her fears for me and here she is. I hope it won’t be the last time she makes an appearance.

“Oh, my sweet girl. As if I would be any place else,” she says as she squeezes me tight. “You have a lovely home. The pictures don’t do it justice. I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to visit. I’ll try to get out here a few times a year. I promise.”

She sounds genuine, but she always does. My mother is one who often says what she knows people need to hear. I don’t think she intends to lie, but she seldom follows through. Time will tell. Either way, I’m just happy she’s here.

“How long will you be staying?” I ask as I take a seat next to Matilda. I pull her into my lap and run my fingers through her waist long hair.

“Oh, I have to fly out tomorrow morning. We have a few girls out sick at the restaurant so I couldn’t take more than a few days, but I’m going to plan another trip soon.”
Sure you will.

Before I have a chance to say anything, Abbott’s mother walks over and gives a terse, “Hello, Vivienne.” Then, she nods over to my mother. “Ms. Anderson.”

I guess it’s now or never. “Hello, Elizabeth. I hope you made the trip well.” God, I can’t stand this bitch. With all of the hell she’s put me through in the last few days, it is physically draining to fake nice. It’s my husband’s funeral, and I will not turn it into a catfight. “This is my daughter, Tillie,” I say as I look down at my pretty girl.

Cassie must have seen Ms. Parker approach me, and like the amazing friend that she is, I see her marching toward us. That girl always has my back.

“Why do you insist on such a ridiculous nickname? Call the girl by her given name for Christ’s sake,” she chastises. “Hello,
Matilda,
I’m your grandmother.”
Bitch.

Cassie arrives right as Tillie responds, “Ohhhh, grandmudder. Right, right, right...I know who you are.” A look of recognition crosses her face as she continues. “You are the toofless bitch. Right, Auntie? I’m right, huh? I ’member that!” She holds up her pudgy little hand for a high five, and I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

I’m lying. I do. I really want to laugh in her fucking face, but of course, I don’t. Cass, however, is not so restrained. She immediately bursts out laughing and quickly turns her head to try to regain her composure. At least there’s that.

“Tillie!” I admonish. “We don’t use that word. Ever.” That’s about the best I can do to try to save this situation.

Ms. Parker is as red as a tomato and completely loses her shit. “Did that child just call me a...a...a...bitch?” she chokes out. “I always knew you were trash, Vivienne. My son deserved more. He deserved to marry a woman with class. A
real
woman would never allow her child to behave so...so...uncivilized!” The look she gives Tillie is one of pure disgust. I want to slap it right off of her plastic face.