Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
DOTTIE
T oday is mum’s funeral, and I’m not ready for it.
I refuse to wear black.. She had enough darkness in her life, and I won’t allow it to follow her into death.
Tears fill my eyes once more, clinging to the corners and I swipe them away angrily.
Closing them, I give myself a pep talk, releasing a breath when Damon wraps his arms around me.
His scent envelops me, making me feel safe, I even smile a little. I don’t know how he has this effect on me, but he does. Squeezing me tight, I open my eyes and find his in the mirror.
“You look sombre, but so beautiful, Blossom.”
“I feel empty inside, though.”
“It’s a shitty feeling, baby, but I can tell you that with time, the pain will pack less of a punch. You know I am with you every step of the way, alright?”
I nod my head, because my throat is closing up from his words, and I’m worried I’ll start sobbing again. I have no idea where my dad is, but no doubt he’s drunk or high somewhere. I push that thought to the back of my mind; today isn’t about him, it’s about celebrating mum’s life .
Damon squeezes me again, before turning me in his arms to cuddle me. I cling to his white, button-down dress shirt, and he holds me tighter in return. We stay like that for a few moments, and I’m grateful for the solitude and support Damon offers me with the embrace.
I know I can’t stay here forever, and no amount of alcohol, painting or sex can numb what I’m feeling, not that I’d want to anyway. Reluctantly, I pull away from Damon, and his arms slacken around me. Looking up at him, I offer him a small smile, and he returns it.
“You good, Blossom?”
“I just need to do a couple of things before we go.”
“I’ll wait in the lounge for you.”
He kisses me and then leaves me with a deafening silence.
Swallowing, I move to my bag and rummage around for my paintbrush that I always put in my hair, but I also grab my mum’s bracelet that she used to let me wear when I was younger.
Running my fingers over the red stones and gold chain, I play with it, feeling my mum’s energy.
That might sound stupid or na?ve to some.
A tear slips free when I remember stealing it from her bag, and how she got angry at me before cuddling me and saying that I could play with it, as long as I asked her in future.
I don’t know where the bracelet came from, or whether it had any sentimental value to her because she never spoke of it, but it doesn’t matter now. My mum is gone, and today I will lay her to rest in her final resting place, as they call it.
It makes my stomach turn, but it is what it is.
Clasping the bracelet in place, I move to also fix my paintbrush into place so we can leave. I stand there longer than necessary, looking at myself in the mirror and seeing similarities to mum that I never noticed before .
I have her lips, her witch’s chin; as she called it, and although we don’t have the same colour eyes, I have the same shape as hers.
It stings more than I thought it would, but a part of me accepts it and feels happy, reminding me that although she is no longer roaming this realm, I still carry her with me.
Stepping out of the room, I find Damon with two take-away cups of coffee in each hand. He offers me one with a smile, and I return it.
“Did you buy this?”
“No.”
“So, you just have paper cups lying around?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“I have them in the garage kitchen if you took any notice, you cheeky minx. You know, for customers and shit.”
A small grin breaks through at his sassy remark, and I welcome it.
Sobering, he reaches for me with his free hand.
“How are you doing?”
“I?I don’t know to be honest. I guess I will be ok eventually,” I say glancing down at the bracelet.
It feels hot against my wrist, and a small part of me wants to believe it’s my mum’s lingering energy within, even if it’s just wishful thinking. When I finally tear my eyes from the trinket, I look up and find Damon’s eyes on the bracelet. His brows are pinched as if in pain.
“I saw your mum wearing that bracelet once.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t in the best… state.”
“What do you mean?”
“Blossom, please don’t make me tell you this before you go to her funeral.”
“Damon, just tell me.”
“I was at the roller-skating rink when she showed up. She had a split lip, marks around her throat that she uselessly tried to cover with makeup, and a black eye. She was wearing that,” he says, pointing to the bracelet, and I swear it heats with his words.
I swallow, glancing down at it and toying with it before looking back up at him.
“How old were you?”
“I was eighteen, and your mother would have been sixteen or seventeen.”
The puzzle pieces start to slot together, like a broken vase that we can’t put back together properly.
It would have been the time her dad assaulted her in the backseat of the car when she wanted to go to the roller derby with her sister.
She saved Aunt Kerry that night, and when the bracelet burns my wrist, and I know it’s mum’s way of telling me.
But why was the bracelet so precious to her?
I mull over it for a few moments and when Damon shakes me softly, I glance up. I can see the sadness in the corner of his eyes, and I know he’s waiting for my next move, anchoring me.
“Did you ever see her wearing it again?”
“Never. Why?”
Removing myself from Damon’s arms, I start pacing, my mind whirling with the information. The bracelet burns around my wrist as I make sense of what Damon has told me, and what I failed to realise until right now.
“My mother gave the police a statement on her sexual assault when she was seventeen, and I think it was the night after the roller derby. I have no way to really know because I can’t ask her, and my dad is brain dead when it comes to my mother and her life.
He hated my granddad, and rightfully so, but he was a cunt to her about it as well. ”
“You think this was a promise to herself?”
“I?I think so. When she first found me wearing it, she lost her shit. I found it in her closet hiding in one of her jacket pockets when I was playing with her high heels. After she calmed down, I remember her crouching down and telling me that I needed to ask her in future, and she’d let me wear it.
I think it served as a reminder that she broke loose. ”
Damon turns me around, places his hands on my shoulders and offers me a small smile.
“Maybe it was, and like you said, we will never know, but I think we should believe it because your mum was a strong woman. She may have been riddled with demons and ghosts from her past, but she was tenacious.”
I smile back, feeling the heat prickle the back of my eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, I hold it for five seconds and release it, my eyes staying on Damon until I release it completely.
“I think you’re right, but most of all, Damon, I’m ready to say goodbye.”
The cemetery is packed filled with people who haven’t or didn’t give my mum the time of day for years.
It annoys me, but most of all, it pisses me off that these fuckers think that now she’s gone, they can free up five minutes of their day to make themselves feel better about their shitty choices, and not at all for the woman lying cold in the dark stained timber coffin at the front of the alter.
I swallow down my retorts to their piss poor apologies and condolences, because I’m not here to help them pay their penance for whatever they believe they’ve done wrong, whether to my mother or themselves; I’m here to lay mum to rest .
Nothing more and nothing less.
I take my seat at the front of the church, Arrie slots in beside me and Damon sits behind me. My dad doesn’t know about us yet, and I’d prefer it stay that way until I’m ready to tell him.
I haven’t caught sight of Kerry-Anne, and I hope it stays that way.
She lost the title of aunty a long time ago, but now more than ever.
She is the scum that collects under the toilet bowl, and the fact she tried to not only blackmail me, but also Damon, and tried to silence and control Arrie through her manipulative tactics, leaves me angry once more.
Arrie didn’t go into too much detail, but the fact she’s tried speaks volumes. The stupid woman is scared and so she should be, alas, this is not my story to tell or to speak ill of. I will be here for Arrie whenever she needs me, always.
As if sensing my inner thoughts, she reaches over and squeezes my thigh. I place my hand on top of hers, turning toward her and offering a small smile. She returns it, tears shimmering in her eyes.
A silent conversation passes between us.
Are you ok?
Do you need anything?
We will get through this together, like every other time.
I’m here for you. Always.
Squeezing our hands tighter together, we turn toward the front as Father Malachi walks toward the podium.
Numbly, I watch as his long white robe brushes along the floor, noticing it matches his white hair that he pushes behind his ears.
I haven’t seen him for years, but the aura around him is comforting, a calmness billowing off him as he stands to address the church.
He looks out to the pews, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and I can’t help noticing how his old, kind weathered face looks sombre.
Swallowing, Arrie squeezes my hand again as his voice booms loudly around us.
“We are here today to celebrate the life of Mani Wilmott,” he starts, and the world around me fades out, my eyes zoning in on her coffin, as the slideshow begins to play behind it.
Images flicker up from her as a baby, and it moves through her life while Axel Rose’s voice rings out loudly around us, November Rain echoing through the church.
Through wet, blurry eyes I watch the light fade from hers the more she ages, and when she hits her teenage years, I see the defeat lining them as if she accepted her fate.
When the mental slideshow finishes, I release the hold on Arrie and wipe the tears from my face and eyes. Father Malachi starts talking again while I try and collect myself, reciting a poem and verse from the bible I chose, because my dad was too drunk to do so.
When I hear my name called, I jolt in my seat, standing up and ironing down my overalls with my hand, the written eulogy crinkling in my hand as I start walking toward the front, feeling the eyes burning holes in the back of my head.
I move slowly, my body sluggish and heavy with each step closer to the podium, and just as I reach the steps, I turn to the side and lock eyes with Paige, whom I haven’t seen since we graduated high school, six years ago.
Tears brim in her eyes as she bounces her four-month daughter on her lap, with her husband Levi sitting beside her, his hand resting possessively on her lap.
She offers me a small, sad smile, and I return it before I turn away, swallowing the cement clogging up my throat.
Walking up the steps to the alter, I stand in front of the podium and look out at the sea of people, before looking down and opening my crumpled paper. Clearing my throat, I take one final breath and begin.
I flick through the memories in my mind,
The photos of your beautiful smile,
Your dancing dark eyes,
And I see your pain for miles,
None of it seems real,
The loss of you has left me numb,
I don't want to believe that I'll never see your face again,
And that I have so many unanswered questions to ask, mum,
Thoughts swirl around and around,
I continue to see your face every time I close my eyes,
I wish we both weren't infected with ghosts of our pasts,
I wish we weren't left with so many why's,
I'm sorry for not answering those late night calls, mama,
For tormenting and worrying you in my teenage years,
But the affliction went both ways,
And I only knew losing you was one of my biggest fears,
I'll never forget your crazy antics that sent me insane with laughter and annoyance,
The times we laughed and cried together,
Even the arguments that sent us spiralling,
And now all I have are these moments to reminisce over,
We haven't always seen eye to eye,
But let's be honest, what mother and daughter always does?
I wish I could sit with you for an hour longer,
Just be with you and talk about all that once was,
I love you mama And I miss you so fucking much,
The yearning to see your face or hear your voice again shall never dissipate,
I want you to know that I forgive you for the clusterfuck of a life we had,
Unfortunately all I have are these words I've scribbled down, unable to voice because you're gone and I'm a little too late,
Goodbye. my mama ,
I feel You, I know you're close and pain free,
I'm not ready to let you go yet, I never will be,
But like sands through the hourglass, our time has now ceased,
I'll forever be indebted to you for giving me life on this earth,
For showing me love in the only way you knew how to,
It's not fair that you were taken from us so soon,
But I just want you to know that I'll always be thinking and loving you.
My voice breaks the entire eulogy, but it’s the last few sentences that leave me sobbing. Clearing my throat again, I’m about to step away from the podium when a shrill voice screams the church down, freezing me in place, but sending flowing lava of anger through my veins.
The last thing I think before I straighten my spine and shape up ready for war, is even in death, she can’t be allowed to rest peacefully.