Read When Horses Had Wings Online
Authors: Diana Estill
Tags: #driving, #strong women, #divorce, #seventies, #abuse, #poverty, #custody, #inspirational, #family drama, #adversity
When Horses Had Wings (23 page)
Neta Sue pinpointed us right off. “
Here
he is-s-s.” She made her way over to us.
I gripped Sean’s hand tightly, and then let go. “I’m going to let you visit with everyone...but I’ll see you before the services start. Okay?”
My goals for the day were directly at odds. I wanted to be there for Sean and, at the same time, I hoped to avoid conflict. It seemed clear that Sean would sit up front with Neta Sue and all her sisters and brothers-in-law, in the family section. I figured I’d find a place somewhere in the back of the room with Kenny’s friends and acquaintances, since most likely there wouldn’t be a designated area for remorseful ex-wives.
Sean spun and grabbed me by one arm. “Where’re you going, Mom? I want you to stay with
me
. Pulleeze?”
I studied his fragile face, his flushed cheeks, and pleading eyes. Never before had I wanted to grant one of his requests so badly. But that was Neta Sue’s son in there in that coffin. And Sean was her only grandchild, the final proof of Kenny’s existence, Neta Sue’s sole link to him now. If a choice had to be made, for today, for the first time I could remember, Sean rightfully belonged with her. He didn’t need to sit with me, the woman who’d once contemplated murdering his daddy. “I’m just going to walk down the hall,” I said. “I’d like a few moments alone, that’s all.”
Neta Sue tugged at Sean. “Come over here. I got somebody I want you to meet.” Apparently sidetracked by introductions, she didn’t acknowledge me.
Sean followed his grandmother, but over his shoulder he gave me a bewildered look. I nodded back at him, indicating his momentary departure was okay. Then I quickly slipped down a hallway leading to a small empty chapel.
Inside the undersized sanctuary, I slid into an oak pew and sobbed. In there, I was finally alone, away from the penetrating glares and hurtful accusations. Just me and God. As I considered the word “God,” I experienced my greatest sense of abandonment. And right there, I held a silent dialog with my Creator.
Don’t you see? I’ve never fit in anywhere, especially not here and not now. Why didn’t you take me? It would’ve been better. If you were going to take Kenny, why’d you wait until now? Why didn’t you spare me all those years of pain? Why didn’t you do it when he was beating me, before Sean was old enough to even remember him? Why make Sean suffer? Why? I don’t understand.
I cried until I shook from my separateness. My chest heaved. I felt I might drown at any minute, sitting there in my self-pity. Then I noticed an altar at the front of the chapel. Inscribed on the centerpiece were the words,
This do ye in remembrance of Me.
I don’t know what it was about that sentence that jostled me from my despair. But all at once, I realized how much God loved me, how painful it must have been for Him to watch me suffer. And I understood that I was not, and never had been, alone.
Draping my elbows over the pew in front of me, I began to pray.
I lifted my head and observed the sunlight flickering like liquid gold through the chapel’s intricate stained-glass windows. Patting my eyes dry with a tissue, I paused to check my watch. It was time. And I would be brave. I would be all right—because I was not alone.
Someone touched me lightly on the shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Sean.
Neta Sue looked at me through eyelids puffed like marshmallows. In her gaze I recognized something different, something I’d never before witnessed. She extended her hand. Before I could speak, she said, “Renee, I want you to sit up front with me and Sean...with the rest of the family...if you don’t mind.”
I clasped Neta Sue’s hand. With my opposite palm, I linked to Sean. The three of us made our way down the aisle and past the burnished-brass placard that read “Services for Kenneth Raymond Murphy.”
EPILOGUE
I
’m not sure why I felt the need to record this story, other than to make some sense of chaos. Shit happens, that’s a fact. Some of us are plumbed for it, some flourish well in fertilizer, and some just flat get buried beneath everyone else’s crap. Often, though, all we need to do is look up to realize we’re standing underneath a sewage discharge pipe and ought to move.
Though I still can’t say how much of this saga stemmed from choice, what I know for sure is, like Granny Henderson told me years ago, it was my decision to drive or be driven. If I’d never commanded a steering wheel, my outcome would have been something entirely different. That Mustang was more than a car; without it, I might never have left Hawk Creek Road.
I’m fortunate to have met folks like Granny and Pearly, each of whom entered my life at the right time to shape my thoughts in different ways. Both were wise beyond their formal education and taught me something I badly needed to learn.
Pearly rose through the ranks to become a Mary Kay director. When I last saw her, she was driving a pink Cadillac and wearing a genuine diamond watch. I doubt she’ll ever need to pawn that timepiece.
Momma married another deacon, one she seldom lets out of her sight. She now resides on a small farm in Alabama where Ricky lives in an adjacent trailer and helps with the chores. Or at least Momma says he does.
Daddy reconnected with and wed his high school sweetheart, who, ironically, has a face that resembles a horse.
Sean received a full football scholarship to SMU, where he put all those tackling moves he learned from his dad to good use. He and his wife own a successful bingo supply warehouse in New Mexico.
Neta Sue retired from cleaning office buildings and hit a $100,000 jackpot in Shreveport, Louisiana. I heard she cussed out some guy who’d taken over her slot machine and then hit the loot on the very next pull. She passed away before she could spend most of her winnings.
As for me…well, I found real love, married again, and wrote this book.
The End
About the Author
Diana Estill lives in North Texas with her husband. She has written four books and two collections of humor essays, including
Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life
, a
ForeWord
Book of the Year finalist.
When Horses Had Wings
is her first novel.
Other Books by Diana Estill
Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road
Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life
Crap Chronicles: When IBS Strikes in all the Wrong Places
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