20. Rest For The Wicked
REST FOR THE WICKED
Dahlia
Karina wears haute couture to her husband’s burial.
It’s an archival piece—I could tell when Lettie laid the garment bag out on my bed this morning.
A tailored black coat dress with pearl buttons and a tasteful v-neckline.
It came with a leather belt but it created too much of a harsh line around the waist and drew attention to Karina’s changing body.
Lettie replaced it with a scarf she tied in a voluminous bow in the middle so that the excess lace draped in a way to conceal the lower abdomen.
Karina is so petite in frame that she’s easily dwarfed by big clothes and heavy fabrics.
Lettie’s choice in silhouette—an a-line cut—was intentional. It’s not the kind of thing someone would wear if they were trying to conceal weight gain but with a little clever tinkering, it can conceal enough and that’s all we need. An illusion.
She wears black gloves and her wedding ring on her left hand. Her face is partially concealed by the birdcage veil on her hat and she looks like a black swan. Beautiful, dignified, but just a little empty on the inside.
They lower Brent’s casket into the ground and Karina visibly deflates. A shaky breath leaves her lips and I can’t tell if it’s relief or grief but I reach for her hand and hold onto her anyway. She squeezes back and doesn’t let go.
For obvious reasons, the funeral was closed casket and attended mostly by Brent’s family and friends from college.
Karina spent the entire day playing the role of grieving widow and she did so with grace and aplomb.
I wonder if this is therapeutic for her; mourning the life she thought she’d have and the future she wanted with Brent.
Maybe the red eyes and forced smiles aren’t a performance so much as they are a part of her healing process.
As soon as the casket hits dirt there’s a dramatic cry followed by soothing hushes and whispers. Karina’s eyes cut a slow and murderous path to our cousin Yulissa standing by a nearby tree with a blond little boy sitting at her feet. He looks old enough to be in kindergarten by the fall.
She whispers to me in Spanish, “I want to throw her into Brent’s grave.”
I reply, “I can if you want me to.”
Brent’s mother goes over to console Yulissa and it’s the most tasteless thing I’ve ever seen.
It’s obvious she knows or at least suspects that Yulissa’s son, Omar Junior, is actually Brent’s child.
Likely conceived when Brent and Karina were “on a break”.
Ever since the reading of the will where it was revealed Karina stood to inherit everything, the money left to Brent by his grandparents and his million-dollar life insurance policy, things became exponentially more complicated.
Brent never changed his will nor did he have the chance to do so before he died.
I bet Yulissa thinks she can get a piece of that money if she proves her son is actually Brent’s but that would mean proving her current husband isn’t the father.
“I hate her.” Karina says.
“So do I.”
“And I hate his parents too. Look at them…coddling her when their son’s widow stands to the side alone. They insist on making me look bad.”
The crowd begins to disperse. Some stop to give Karina their condolences while others drop dirt and flowers into Brent’s grave.
I’d burn him a second time if I could but I believe in divine punishment.
He’s burning somewhere else in a flame far hotter and agonizing than the one that scorched his body here on earth.
“Come on,” I loop my arm around hers. “Let’s get out of here.”
Karina takes a step forward but then stops abruptly. She lingers at the edge of his grave with tightened fists and a somber expression.
The last few weeks have been a blur and if I feel that way, I can’t imagine what she’s going through.
Karina may have fallen out of love with Brent a long time ago but there must still be some part of her that mourns him or is trying to.
She was so angry with him before he died and now there’ll never be any resolution.
No divorce to work through those emotions, no accountability on his part, and no apology.
On top of all that, she’s going to be a mother soon. When will she have the time or energy to focus on her own healing? Will she even allow us to help her?
I watch in real time as she shuts it all down—the urge to cry, scream, or exhibit any true human emotion. All of it buried like graves in a cemetery and she makes the mistake of thinking those bodies will never resurrect themselves.
“How does it feel?”
Brent’s mother approaches with a dour expression.
Her son resembles her both in features and demeanor.
Her dirty blond hair is on the verge of going gray, as evident by a few stray strands near the temples.
Unlike Brent, her eyes are dark blue and lined with crow’s feet.
She’s attractive in an elegant and mature way, the kind of simplistic beauty that grows with age.
Soft makeup clashes with the harsh blackness of her attire and the heavy string of pearls around her neck.
Her husband stands beside her, crestfallen and somber.
His eyes are brown like Brent’s, hair salt and pepper.
“Barbara,” Karina clears her throat as if to say more but she comes up short.
“Are you admiring your handiwork?” She takes a threatening step forward. “Making sure he doesn’t come back?”
“We’re sorry for your loss.” I say. “My cousin and I were just leaving.”
I don’t know much about Brent’s parents other than what Karina has told me.
Barbara Hopkins is originally from the south and her family comes from oil money.
She meant Brent’s father-in-law school and she dropped out to marry him.
Come to think of it, Brent rarely spoke of them.
I’ve met them less than a handful of times.
“I’m very sorry.” Karina’s voice is strained. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
“I was there. I saw him that night, before he went to the house.” Her eyes are glossy with tears but her face is twisted with contempt. “He was furious. He said you brought your lover—”
“That’s enough.” I meet her gaze. “Mrs. Hopkins, Brent was mistaken. I was with Karina. The man he saw was my boyfriend. He drove us to pick up a few things. We were gone by the time he got there.”
Her head shakes furiously and a few lose waves come down from her tightly woven chignon. “No, no! We were on the phone. Brent told me he saw—”
“Brent was jealous of everyone.” Karina can barely manage to speak above a whisper. “He saw things that weren’t there. Including on the cameras around our home. It wasn’t the first time he stormed in on my cousin and her boyfriend visiting. The last time he did, he broke down the door.”
“You lying slut!” she explodes. “I’m not crazy! And don’t you think for one second that this is over. I will have that final will and testament turned over. You have another thing coming if you think I’m going to allow my son’s inheritance to be tainted by his adulterous wife! You—”
Barbara is manic, sobbing and raging at the same time. She lifts her hand and pounces for Karina.
Karina flinches and lets out a small cry. I catch Barbara’s wrist seconds before the blow lands and push her back so hard she almost falls into the pile of dirt meant to fill Brent’s grave.
“If you ever raise a hand to my cousin again—”
Karina tugs on the back of my dress. “Dahlia, don’t.”
Barbara points a finger in Karina’s direction. “You…” the word trembles and quakes. “Killed my son. You killed him, I know you did! He didn’t want to get divorced. He knew you were cheating on him and he still wanted to make it right.”
My cousin struggles to drag me away. “People are starting to look. Drop it.”
Of course they’re looking. How could they not?
Barbara has not only called my cousin an adulterous, gold-digging whore but she also accused her of playing a role in Brent’s death.
If we stay now, we’ll only cause a bigger scene.
Yulissa watches on in silence while the rest of the Hopkins clan whispers and gasps with horror.
Karina’s cheeks burn with humiliation and fear as she yanks on my arm to force me to leave. And I almost do.
Until Brent’s mother says, “Murderer.”
I whip around with the speed of lightning. Barbara staggers back a step and falls against her husband, whom as of now, has not uttered a word.
Barbara lifts her chin to feign in difference but there’s a tremor in her voice when she speaks next. “You heard me. She’s a murderer.”
I take a step closer. We’re toe-to-toe, eye to eye. I can see my reflection in her pupils as I smile. “Okay. Prove it.”
She inhales a shaky breath. “I won’t let her get away with it. She will answer for what she did to my son in a court of law.”
“You don’t even have enough evidence to open an investigation much less file criminal charges.
And you cannot find evidence for a crime that doesn’t exist.” I say.
“I’d never get in between a mother and her grief but I’ll mind you not to throw defamatory accusations against my cousin again.
Because the next time you do, I’ll slap you once with a slander suit and twice with the back of my hand. ”
I grab Karina and pull her away from Brent’s open grave and the stuttering mother standing at the foot of it. “Let’s go.”
“You shouldn’t have done that…” Karina worries on her bottom lip. “You’re too much, Dahlia. You’ve just antagonized them and—”
“They should’ve thought of that before they threatened you out in the open.
” I bite the inside of my cheek when I sense my temper flaring.
“She had no right to talk to you like that. You aren’t some washed up nobody their son plucked out of obscurity and gave a better life.
Son of a bitch, I wish I could kill him twice.
You have a family to defend you. You have me. ”
“But—”
I stop halfway down the hill and turn to face her. “Kay, there are only two people alive who know what really happened. You and me.”
“I know but—”
“No buts. The Hopkins are just pissed you’re inheriting his money. Barbara is a grieving mother. I doubt anyone will give credence to a word she said this afternoon. Especially since it was common knowledge you guys hadn’t been living together for months and you’ve been in the city with me.”
Her features soften. “We still shouldn’t have upset her.”
“She isn’t going to do a damn thing. Especially not once she finds out the ‘body’ she just buried is actually ashes in a metal urn.” I say. “This battle is won.”
She drops her head and looks away. “For now.”
* * *
I drop my keys on the kitchen counter as Alejandro says, “How was it?”
I remove my sunglasses and hat. “I pushed our cousin Yulissa into Brent’s plot.”
He chuckles until his face drops. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Yes.” I walk over and wrap his arms around me. “We were on our way to the car when Kay noticed Yulissa was making a scene. So I climbed back up the hill and pushed her in.”
He tsks. “Naughty, naughty girl.”
I whistle between my teeth. “I like it when you call me that.”
He leans down to kiss me and I rise to the tips of my toes to meet him. It’s enough to melt the stress of the day away.
“You’re so domesticated.” I murmur against his lips and he laughs. “Whenever I’m looking for you, I always check the kitchen first.”
“I like it. It’s therapeutic.” He catches loose curls and tucks them behind my ears. “Where’s Kay?”
“Went upstairs to get some rest…” I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. “Today was hard.”
“I can imagine.”
“Maybe I was a little hard, too. I stressed out Karina and I shouldn’t have.”
He runs a soothing hand over my hair. “Why?”
“Brent’s mom is a piece of work. I threatened to sue her.”
“And?”
I frown and look at him. “Why do you assume there’s more?”
He smiles. “Because with you there always is. What did you do?”
My chin tilts defiantly. “I threatened to smack her silly.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “That’s my girl.”
“Whatever. She deserved it. I’m only sorry I bothered Karina. The whole thing really upset her…” I sigh. “Do you think I’m too much?”
“Maybe for a lesser man. I like the challenge and you’re worth the headache.”
I barely manage a scoff to convey my irritation but a smile fights its way through. I can’t help myself. He’s just too damn good.
“Please, for the love of God, my eyesight!”
Lettie saunters into the room with more bags strung up and down her arms than a store mannequin. “I can feel the Ceasar salad crawling its way back up my throat.”
I turn in Alejandro’s embrace and he keeps his arms tightly wrapped around me. “One day, Lettie, you’ll be in love. And I’ll have the satisfaction of saying I told you so.”
Her nose crinkles. “I hope someone shoots me first.”
“What are the bags for?” Alejandro asks.
Lettie’s expression becomes incandescent. A smile I’ve never seen before lights up her face as she holds them up like trophies. “Toys for the nursery!”
She sets them down on the island and goes through the bags one by one, squealing with excitement.
Soon after, Lyss gets home from work and shows off the onesies and socks she bought during her lunch break.
Dona Ana comes upstairs and helps Alejandro with dinner and eventually, Karina comes downstairs after her nap, joined by Diego.
Lyss and Lettie inundate her with toys and baby clothes and she manages to smile.
Watching them delight over the upcoming birth is more happiness than has been present in this home, in this family, for a while and I think about what Alejandro told me.
There are still memories to be made, joy to be had. Maybe that’s enough.