The Monster In You

A delicate breeze breaking around her black-clad form and rustling the soft brown hair framing her face snapped Amelia out of her dazed distraction. Quick glances around her confirmed that she had not missed too much of the ceremony for the short time she had been somewhere else mentally. Taking a deep breath, she tried to refocus her attention on the woman reading from her script. It was probably normal tripe she rattled off at all funerals she attended as an officiant, all she has to remember to do is change the name in the script for each ceremony. Amelia wondered if she’s ever made the mistake of forgetting to change the name of the deceased in her script from ceremony to ceremony.

Amelia was steadfast in keeping her gaze from straying to the opulent mahogany casket covered in bright wildflowers just beyond her peripheral vision.

It’s almost as though she could feel eyes staring daggers into her forehead coming from the direction of the casket. In the back of her mind, she knows it’s irrational to be scared to look at the casket. She knows her mother is long gone, frozen in time, arranged to appear as though she is in an eternal sleep in the confines of the lusciously padded casket. She knows the exact outfit she’s wearing – considering the task of picking her clothes was left to her, along with most of the arrangements for today. Her hair was combed to perfection, flowing over her left shoulder, falling beside the buttons of her favourite blazer – an obscenely bright and vibrant pink colour, matched with cream and black chequered business pants. Every piece of gold jewellery she owned adorned her ears, neck, fingers, and wrists. She didn’t want any of her precious jewellery to be left to anyone out of fear that they would be pawned off at the earliest opportunity.

The rational side of her brain knew it would be impossible for it to happen, but still, she was terrified of turning towards the casket, lest she come face-to-face with her mother sitting up ramrod straight with the deepest, most sinister snarl scored across her features.

She was all too familiar with that snarl. It always felt as though Amelia’s mother could do nothing but snarl at her for as long as she remembered.

Amelia had expected a large turnout for her mother’s funeral, considering she was the most famous person to come from their town, but she hadn’t anticipated nearly 200 people to make their way to the cemetery’s outdoor setting. Her mother had left behind specific instructions in the arrangement of her funeral, and she had mentioned to anticipate between 200-300 people. No invites were sent to people, instead an announcement in their local newspaper would suffice in notifying the public of her funeral. The funeral directors informed Amelia that with such a large number of people anticipated to attend, they would need to utilise both their cathedral and the outdoor setup to accommodate so many people. Outside, Amelia was surrounded by almost 100 strangers, with the remaining people attending the funeral seated inside the cathedral. They watched the proceedings from a large television screen that showed a livestream of the event happening outside.

Because, of course, her mother wanted the funeral to also be livestreamed.

Being the only person that could complete the arrangements for the day had been draining for Amelia, especially since this was the last place she had wanted to be. In general, she tried to avoid being near her mother even when she was alive. Majority of the time, any moment the two women were sharing the same oxygen in the same room, Amelia’s mother made it entirely clear that she wished Amelia was not taking up her precious oxygen.

Their relationship had been strained since Amelia was 18 years old after she sided with her father in her parent’s divorce. Her mother had cheated on her father, but she had convinced herself and many of her peers and admirers that it was not a horrific betrayal of her husband’s love.

Whatever Amelia’s mother wanted, she would have – no matter the repercussions on her limited family circle.

Amelia’s grandparents on both her mother and father’s side had all died by the time she reached 15, with all four funerals solidifying Amelia’s great hatred for funerals.

Or, specifically, any funeral that was arranged by her psychotic and selfish mother.

As Amelia tried to focus on the words coming from the funeral director’s mouth – words that her mother wrote in preparation for her eventual funeral, no doubt – she couldn’t help but feel hollow in her chest. She was 35 years old, with both parents now dead. Her father had passed away shortly after her 21^st birthday from heavy drug and alcohol abuse that Amelia sometimes felt partially responsible for. She had tried for many years, even before her parent’s divorce, to get help for her father to overcome his demons.

Demons, unsurprisingly, planted into his psyche by her mother.

Amelia learned from a very early age that to the wider public, everything that her mother touched turned to gold. She had started out as a diligent and hard-working business woman working alongside Amelia’s grandfather in his real estate business. As Amelia’s mother grew up and inherited her grandfather’s fortune, she expanded from being an incredibly cut-throat real estate agent to dabbling in politics. Her mother was convinced that becoming a politician for their local precinct would grant her greater power to expand her empire and line her pockets with enough money to never have to deny herself anything she wanted.

It wasn’t long after her mother became a politician that Amelia also learned that the reality of her mother’s impact was that everything she touched became tainted with darkness.

If there was an Olympic sport for persuasion, gaslighting and lying, her mother would be a gold medallist.

She was the textbook definition of a sleazy politician. As her influence over the public grew, so too did her ego and self-righteousness. Her mother had often tried to convince Amelia to attend political rallies and gatherings with her to portray to her followers a united family front, but Amelia rarely conceded and granted her mother’s wishes. Because of how her mother approached politics as a means to generate an income instead of helping improve the lives of her citizens, politics in general left a sour taste in Amelia’s mouth. According to Amelia, majority of politicians were the same as her mother, but her mother was the queen bee of the bunch.

Amelia was jolted from her internal musings by a loud round of applause and the commencement of a video constructed for today’s event. Amelia hadn’t worked on the video, instead the video was created by her mother’s employees. Similar to the eulogy, Amelia guessed, this video had been meticulously planned to paint her mother in the most positive light possible. There were hardly any images or clips of her mother interacting with family or in a natural setting. There were photographs from her rallies and events, as well as professional shoots from media outlets that interviewed her or ran stories about her.

Amelia only counted three pictures of her mother with their actual family. One of her parents and herself when Amelia was a kid during her first visit to Disneyland; one of her standing on a stage beside her mother right after she won her first political campaign when Amelia was 10 years old; and finally, an image taken shortly after Amelia’s 17^th birthday when her mother had convinced her to accompany her to a photoshoot and interview with the local newspaper. They stood side by side, her mother with her hands on her hips and chin held high in a chauvinistic pose whilst Amelia stood stiffly with her hands clasped behind her back, staring blankly into the camera.

There was a small part of Amelia’s heart that ached for what she had always wanted, and would never have another chance to obtain. She had always wanted her mother to love and care for her, but her mother had always seen taking care of Amelia as a chore. More often than not, Amelia had wished she was born into a different family; one where she didn’t feel like a burden any time she asked for the smallest amount of affection. Her father had been affectionate with her majority of the time when her mother couldn’t influence his behaviour, but in the end, it was her mother’s behaviour that ripped her father away from her.

As the chatter from the officiant began to fade into the background of Amelia’s mind, finally, she turned her gaze in the direction of her mother’s casket.

Her irrational fears were just that – irrational. The casket was closed with a beautiful floral display sprawled across the lid’s surface. Her mother wasn’t sitting up staring at her with loathing in her eyes. It was just the casket.

As the officiant wrapped up her final speech, the audience surrounding Amelia applauded. They were asked to stand as men in crisp black suits made their way to the casket, hoisting it onto their shoulders in preparation to carry her mother to her final resting place. Sombre music floated through the air and Amelia could hear several people sniffling and crying softly into tissues and handkerchiefs.

Amelia stared blankly at the casket as it passed her, making its way up the aisle. Slowly, the crowd began to follow the men carrying her mother’s casket in the direction of the mausoleum. Amelia waited for the bulk of the crowd to move from their seats before she joined the procession.

It was a short walk from the ceremony to the burial spot, only a handful of minutes, but the time seemed to stretch on for an eternity to Amelia. Her mind felt foggy, her head felt as though it was being weighed down, and it took all of her mental effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other without tripping.

Finally, her mother’s casket arrived at its final resting place. Her mother had arranged for top-of-the-line treatment, even in death. At some point – Amelia isn’t familiar with when her mother began making funeral plans for herself – her mother purchased a small crypt room at the entrance to the cemetery’s mausoleum. The entrance to her room was guarded by two large, black steel gates that reminded Amelia of Dracula; the top of the gates sported a sharp, pointy spear-like finish, and a hideously terrifying gargoyle protruded from the eaves overhanging the entrance like a demented and cursed scarecrow. The room itself was sparse; a white marble slab was pushed to one side of the crypt to expose the hole below the room where the casket would be lowered, and then covered permanently by the slab. An obnoxiously large replica of Jesus nailed to a cross maintained vigil over the room from the largest wall and the sight of it made Amelia’s gut churn uneasily. The other two walls were each adorned with some sort of scripture that Amelia was unfamiliar with – her mother tried to instil the same religious beliefs she lived by into Amelia, but Amelia could never truly be convinced to follow any religion. The scriptures were placed in golden frames with carvings of cherubs, angels and crosses.

As the crowd huddled around the crypt, the men in suits moved to begin lowering the casket into the hole as the officiant recited more scripture Amelia was unfamiliar with. Around her, many onlookers had their heads bowed in respect, muttering the scripture under their breath in time with the officiant. Amelia stared wide-eyed at the sight of her mother’s casket being lowered below the surface. Again, she knew it was irrational, but Amelia was still waiting for her mother to spring up out of the casket and begin berating her, telling her how much of a disappointing daughter she truly was.

Amelia lowered her gaze to her shoes as her nose and eyes began to burn with the effort to not cry. There was no chance in hell that she would shed a tear for that monster. Too many of Amelia’s problems throughout her life could be traced back to her mother being the catalyst for them. She would not waste a single tear on that woman.

The crowd around her simultaneously uttered an ‘Amen’ as the marble slab was moved back into its original position over the casket and bolted shut.

Her mother was officially gone. She was finally free.

The rest of the event passed in a blur for Amelia. Although the funeral itself was open to the public, the mass afterwards was an invite-only event. The catering was over the top, with delicate sandwiches and biscuits fit for a high-tea event rather than a gloomy funeral. Amelia had tucked herself into a corner, mindlessly picking apart a cucumber and cheese sandwich.

“Amelia! What a delight to see you!” A high-pitched voice startled Amelia from her musings. She had to try her hardest to not roll her eyes at the woman approaching her.

“Cynthia, it’s nice to see you.” Amelia responded unenthusiastically. Cynthia was her mother’s business partner in real estate and could have given her mother a run for her money in the slimiest realtor in the country competition.

Cynthia flipped her bleached-blond hair over her shoulder and looked down her nose at Amelia. “Last I heard from your mother about you, you were working to earn the money you needed to go back to school for a science degree,” she laughed mockingly. “Why you wouldn’t just take up your mother’s offer on learning the ropes in real estate, I will never understand.”

This time, Amelia doesn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. She’s reached her quota of dealing with this crap for the day. “Sure thing, Cynthia. You can have your own opinion on my life, but I don’t want, nor need, to hear it.” Amelia gets to her feet and throws the remaining scraps of her sandwich in the trash beside her. “Keep your opinions to yourself,” she reiterates. “Enjoy the rest of the festivities.”

Without waiting for a response, Amelia stormed out of the room and headed home, wanting to forget the entire day.

The following morning, the emotions Amelia had been trying to tame were raw and bubbling under the surface. Amelia immediately began her daily routines of getting ready for the day to take her mind off of her mother’s passing.

Amelia made her way outside to her mailbox, noticing a substantially large documents envelope poking out of the slot. As Amelia grabs it and reads the front of it, she feels bile rise in her throat.

Unfortunately, she could recognise that handwriting anywhere. It was her mother’s handwriting.

Amelia hurried back into her home and threw the envelope onto the table. She stared at it, waiting for it to burst into flames or turn into a howler, like from Harry Potter. She had no idea what could possibly be inside it, but she assumed it wasn’t anything good.

She’s suddenly glad she decided to take the rest of the week off from work after her boss offered it to her. She doesn’t know if she would be able to function for the rest of the day knowing a huge envelope from her dead mother was waiting at home for her.

Amelia took a cleansing breath and slowly sat at the table, dragging the envelope closer. Before she could chicken out, she ripped open the flap of the envelope and withdrew several papers.

    Several of the documents seemed to be bank account statements and payments of some sort. Confused, Amelia concentrated on the letter that was clearly written by her mother.

Amelia,

           By the time you get this package, I will be buried and long gone. Depending on how quickly my lawyers get everything sorted, this should come to you the day after my funeral, or at least soon after.

           I know we have never had a good relationship, and it’s in my final days that I truly feel remorse for how I’ve treated you. I wish I had the ability to go back to when you were a child and right all of my wrongs. However, that isn’t possible, and I know you wouldn’t give me the time of day now – and I don’t blame you.

           Enclosed in this envelope is my apology to you, and my attempt at even a small amount of redemption in your eyes. I know how hard you’ve been working to gather the money you need to further your studying. I’m glad that if there is one thing you inherited from me, it was my work ethic.

           I am leaving to you a small fortune that I hope will get you through your studies, as well as aiding you in building a life that makes you happy and proud. Please know that I am proud of you, and I’m sorry I never said these things to you when you needed to hear them the most.

           You are my greatest achievement. I hope you can find it in your heart to one day forgive me.

           With love,

           From mum.

Amelia dropped the note onto the table and scrambled to pick up the other documents. Through her tears, she read over bank statements that detailed an insane amount of money that would be soon transferred to her account once she signed the appropriate papers.

Amelia dropped her head onto the surface of the table as the mountain of emotions from the last week finally overflowed and came out in heaving sobs.

She sobbed for the mother she always dreamt of having. She wept for her father who couldn’t escape the hell imposed on him by her mother.

She cried for the woman that perhaps wasn’t a monster, after all.