Seeing Double

Grey clouds scudded across the sky and dry leaves skittered and danced down the path. Melissa shivered as the cold wind cut through her coat and fat raindrops began to fall. She threaded her way between the old tombstones, occasionally stopping to peer at the moss-encrusted inscriptions. The path widened, lined with shiny marble mausoleums and stone angels in the newer part of the cemetery. She stopped at her grandmother’s grave, still marked only by a rectangle of dirt, and stared in surprise. The few wreaths from the funeral were wilted and forlorn, but a new bouquet stood out in a vivid splash of color. As she stooped to look at it, Melissa caught a glimpse of someone hurrying out of the cemetery. She squinted. Something was very familiar about the figure, but when she reached the gate there was no one there. Returning to the grave, she picked up the bouquet. It consisted of gaudy plastic flowers tied together with an elastic band. A small, handwritten card was attached.

“So long. May you rot in Hell.”

She picked up the flowers and hurried back to the house, head down against the rain which was now pouring.

Her mother came out of the kitchen as Melissa entered.

“Mom, were you just at the cemetery? I could have sworn I saw you there.”

Her mother looked at her askance.

“What would I be doing out there in this weather? My arthritis is bad enough without that. Change out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold. Have you been…I mean, did you…”

Melissa stared at her.

“Mom, I have been sober for fourteen months, three weeks and ten days now, if you’re counting. I didn’t imagine it. Whoever was there left this. Look.”

She tossed the card and the flowers onto the table, turned and marched upstairs to change.

Clad in dry jeans and a sweatshirt, she returned to the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table, staring at the note, her face pale and drawn. The flowers were in the trash.

Melissa sat down and clasped her mother’s hand.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

Her mother jumped and pulled away, awkwardly patting Melissa’s arm.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

Melissa smiled.

“You don’t owe me any apologies. I’ve given you enough grief over the years. Who would leave that note on Grandma’s grave?”

Her mother grimaced.

“Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was a bitter, angry, cold woman who made a lot of enemies. I can’t wait to clear this house out and sell it.”

Melissa raised her brows.

“Is that why we hardly ever came to see her? You’ve just told me more about how you feel in the last five minutes than you’ve done in my whole life.”

Her mother stood up, putting the note in her pocket.

“Feelings weren’t exactly encouraged in this house. Let’s get started.”

“I’ll take her bedroom,” said Melissa. “You start on the sitting room.”

“Fine,” said her mother. “Thrift shop donations in the boxes and trash in the bags. Keep anything you want.”

Melissa grabbed a couple of boxes and bags and headed upstairs. She looked around the bedroom. A faint scent of her grandmother’s lily-of-the-valley perfume lingered. The room, like the rest of the house, was a time capsule of forty years ago, faded fussy floral wallpaper and threadbare curtains. The only decoration was a framed cross stitch on the wall which stated that “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”. Shuddering, she remembered the interminable prayers and Bible readings which her grandmother had insisted on during their rare visits. Opening the wardrobe, she dumped armfuls of clothes on the bed and began to sort, sneezing at the smell of mothballs. Finished, she turned to the dressing table. The side drawers opened easily, revealing bits and bobs of costume jewelry, stockings, scarves and underwear, but the center drawer was locked and the key nowhere to be found.

She found her mother in the kitchen, looking exhausted.

“Let’s take a break and order some food. You’re beat. Chinese or Mexican?”

“Whatever, dear,” her mother said wearily.

“Executive decision. Chinese it is,” Melissa said, grabbing her phone and dialing.

“The food will be here in half an hour. The bedroom’s done, except for the drawer in the dresser. I can’t find the key.”

Her mother laughed.

“I’d forgotten about that. She thought she was so smart. Give me that plate on the wall. The one with the praying hands.”

Melissa handed the plate to her mother who turned it over and removed a key which was taped on the back.

“That should be the right one. Go and try it.”

The key turned easily, but something was obstructing the drawer. Melissa finally worked it free and found a large, tattered manila envelope. It fell apart as she handed it to her mother and a shower of photographs scattered across the table and cascaded onto the floor. She scrabbled around picking them up.

“I noticed there’s not a single framed photo anywhere in the house. Why did she hide them away like this? Who’s this other kid in this picture with you and Grandma? Was this after Grandpa died?”

“Did she tell you Grandpa died? He may well have by now, but he took off when I was young. She was too mortified to say he had left her, so she told everyone she was a widow.”

The doorbell rang.

“Hold that thought,” said Melissa. “That must be the food.”

As she paid the delivery driver, she noticed movement in the shrubbery behind him. She peered around as he left but saw nothing.

“Probably a stray, or my imagination,” she muttered, shutting the front door behind her with her foot, arms full.

“Ready to eat, Mom? I’m starving…what’s the matter?”

She plunked the bags down onto the table and knelt beside her mother who was weeping silently.

“I know this is a hard time for you, even if you and Grandma never got along, but you’ve been acting weird ever since I brought those flowers back. What’s going on?”

Her mother wordlessly handed her a photograph. Melissa picked it up.

“The one of you, Grandma, and the other kid.”

“My sister,” her mother whispered.

“What sister? You never mentioned this before.”

"She's talking about me."

Melissa whirled around as her mother stood, eyes wide, pointing behind her. A younger version of her mother stood in the doorway.

“Jess! I thought I recognized the writing on that card,” her mother said, her voice cracking.

Melissa stood back, speechless, as the two embraced. The newcomer turned to her.

“I’m sorry for barging in. You didn’t quite close the door.”

“Who are you?” Melissa said, bewildered.

“I really am your mother’s sister."

“The kid in the picture,” Melissa said. “So, I have an aunt? Where have you been all this time?”

The two older women looked at each other. Finally, Melissa’s mother nodded.

“It’s time for all the secrecy and lies to end. Sit down, everyone. Melissa, Jess is your mother. She found out she was expecting you when she was a teenager. Your grandmother was fanatically religious even then and threatened to throw her out in the street if she didn’t give the baby up for adoption. Your dad and I couldn’t have children, so we took you.”

“Forgive me,” Jess said, eyes downcast. “I was only sixteen. There’s no way I could have cared for a baby under the circumstances. Your grandmother was a tyrant. I ran away from home the following year and never came back. I figured it was better for everyone if I cut ties.”

Melissa gaped.

“Please don't hate me. I often wanted to tell you,” her mother said, wringing her hands. “But I didn’t know what was for the best, and whether Jess wanted you to know. I hadn’t heard from her until now. Oh, Jess, I've thought about you every day, wondering where you were and how you were doing."

She wiped her eyes. Jess cleared her throat.

“Melissa, I’m sorry this got sprung on you because I was so childish as to leave those flowers. I’m not normally a vindictive person, but that hateful old woman caused so much unnecessary grief that I had to vent somehow."

“Mom, you’re still my mother,” Melissa said, hugging her. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Jess."

She looked from her mother to her aunt with a wry smile and took a deep breath.

"I'll not deny this has been a shock. This family really puts the fun in dysfunctional, doesn't it?"