Aunt Florence

Aunt Florence

Marie was five when her mother died. She hardly has any recollection of her mom, relying only on pictures taken by and stories told by her father. Her father, Bradley, never remarried and was committed to raising his daughter alone. Working as a cartoonist for the New Yorker Magazine kept him busy, consuming most of his time. Bradley and his daughter had a life of contentment and joy living in their Harlem brownstone. Now an adult, Marie yearned to know about her Mother. Her father described Marie’s mother, Edna, as a shy introvert who preferred to stay home doing editing work for Good Housekeeping Magazine. Bradley explained to his daughter that her mother’s soft, gentle spirit attracted him to her. Two years before her death, Edna became very withdrawn and melancholy, which led to depression. Therapy and medicines didn’t help much, and her father believed that his wife willed herself to die. Bradley shared that it was Marie who gave her mother happiness and joy even through the darkness of depression. 

It was a hot, sweltering summer day when Marie decided to travel south to Richmond, Virginia, where she had never been. The farthest south she had been was Washington, DC. Yes, DC is south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Marie would know because she has taught middle school history incorporating geography in her lessons for the past twelve years. Being a teacher afforded Marie the gift of time during the summer, so she moved forward with planning her trip to Richmond, Virginia. Why Richmond, Virginia? Her mother had only one sibling, Florence, who lived in Richmond. Marie has never met Florence, only seeing her in old photographs. Bradley said little about Florence except that she was the opposite of her mother. Feisty is the word he used…a colorful person. Florence owned Flower Designs by Florence, which Marie found out after doing a Google search for Florence Carter. Carter was her mother’s maiden name, so she surmised her Aunt Florence never married, but she has one child. Bradley told her that her mother and aunt had been estranged sometime after Marie was born. He never said the reason for the clash.  After sending her aunt a letter stating that she would like to visit with her, Marie’s aunt agreed. She hoped that her Aunt Florence would be able to unlock more of my mother’s life for her. Marie is about to meet family members for the first time but also will find herself the focus of deception.

Northeastern train number 174  was headed for  Richmond, and Marie had mapped out her exploration of Virginia’s capitol.

“ Next station, Richmond Main Street Station. Get your bags and personal belongings doors opening where you see personnel in five minutes Richmond Main Street Station,” announced the slim Amtrak conductor in a booming voice.

“Main Street Station Richmond, careful Miss, as you come down these steps.”

“ Thank you so much.”

“ What a beautiful station,” Marie said out loud.

“ Yes, it is, and there is a lot of history here. Trains started rolling into this station in the   1920s,” the Amtrak attendant responded.

“ Where are you headed, young lady?”

“ I’m here to visit my aunt, who lives here in Richmond.”

“Where bouts?”

“ Scotts Addition”

“ Enjoy your stay, young lady. Scotts Addition is a cool historic neighborhood.”

Marie studied the old photographs of the station that adorned the walls. She marveled at the beauty of the ornate high ceiling beams and period shiny wooden benches. History was Marie’s forte. She made it come alive to her sixth-grade students. As she walked down the steps of Main Street Station, she paused to look at the sky. Massive white clouds were the backdrop to the historic Main Street Station clock tower. For a moment, she wondered about the stories it could tell.

  As Marie waited for her Uber, the anticipation of meeting her Aunt Florence in person was apparent. The humid summer day seemed to drag on, but she felt relief once inside the air-conditioned Camry. As the Uber driver pulled up to her aunt’s house, the vast red crepe myrtle in the yard reminded her of a painting she saw done by Ann McCann.  The wrap-around porch with the hanging ferns and swing could have been a scene in an old movie.  As the driver drove away, Marie stood transfixed, looking up at the front door and wondering what her impressions would be of Aunt Florence. Just as the thought entered her mind, Aunt Florence was standing at the top of the porch. Petite in stature, with salt and pepper gray hair in a bun, glasses in her hair, and wearing cropped jeans with a raspberry-colored tunic, she had a pleasing smile.

“Welcome, my dear, to Richmond, home of the Flying Squirrels, if you like baseball. Baseball was my sport growing up. I played first base in high school and loved every minute of it. I can’t believe we have never met. You have your mother’s eyes and cheekbones. Marie could tell Aunt Florence was a little on the eccentric side but seemingly good-hearted. Feisty like her father described.

“ It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aunt Florence. My father has an old photo album with pictures of you and my mom as children. Only a few as adults. I’m here so you can tell me more about my mother.”

Marie thought it was odd that her aunt didn’t respond to her comment.

“Come on in so you can get settled, and we will have a little bite to eat. How does Southern fried chicken, potato salad, fresh green beans, and cornbread sound?” 

“ It sounds wonderful, but I am vegan.”

“You’re what?”

“ Vegan… plant-based foods, nut, beans, vegetables.”

“ Oh yeah, I think my son Carlton dated a vegan girl once. I told him not to bring her around here to eat.” Aunt Florence's reaction to my diet was a mix of surprise and amusement. Well, honey, I guess it is green beans and cornbread for you.”

“ What did you season the green beans with?”

“ Why a ham, of course.”

“ Can’t have it”

“ I knew I should have fixed pasta. Well, let me put a pot of water on the stove!”

Aunt Florence's laughter filled the house as she showed Marie to her room while the pot boiled for pasta. The house was a southern vacation dream, with beautiful, shiny oak floors, floor-to-ceiling bookcases, ceiling fans, a sunroom, a kitchen adorned with various tiles from her aunt’s many travels, and three floors of absolute charm. Marie’s room was on the third floor, like a suite. Her aunt had decorated the room in deep earth-tone hues, and there was a private bathroom. An antique armoire opened to a TV. There was a window seat that overlooked Aunt Florence’s garden and a sitting area with a comfy chair and desk. Marie couldn't help but joke that with accommodations like these, she should find a teaching job in Richmond and live with Aunt Florence.

Her aunt informed her that dinner plans had changed when she came downstairs. Aunt Florence had spoken with her son, who was stopping by a vegan restaurant on Hull Street called Philly Vegan to pick up dinner. Carlton’s friend had turned him on to Philly Vegan, and he enjoyed the food.  Aunt Florence was having her Southern fried chicken dinner. The front door opened, and Carlton entered.  He was much taller than his mother, close to 6 ft, with dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, and a beautiful smile like his mother.  Marie assumed he got his height from his father. Who was his father, Marie thought.  There was no mention of him. After their pleasantries, they went to the dining room, where her aunt had set the table for a formal dinner instead of a casual carry-out meal.  To Marie’s surprise, the Philly Vegan fair was quite tasty. She and Carlton dined on Philly Vegan Burgers, Lentil Burgers, Philly Cheese Steak Egg Rolls made with plant-based ground beef, Veggies Egg Rolls, and Apple Pie Egg Rolls for dessert. Aunt Florence made fresh iced tea to wash down her fried chicken. 

The dinner conversation centered around Marie’s visit. How many days would she be there?  What did she like to do? What sites she wanted to see?  After Aunt Florence and Carlton made suggestions, Marie decided to go to a workshop about growing orchids at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden with her aunt. A small yellow orchid was on display in the setting area of her room, and she had recently read in USA Today that it was voted # 4 in must-see public gardens. Carlton also suggested going with him to see the Broadway play CATS at the Altria Theater, which sounded great. Marie decided it was time to ask some questions, for she was curious about her aunt and her aunt’s son. 

“ How about the Short Pump Mall? My friend Barbara told me they had great shops and a Whole Foods where I could get some vegan snacks.”

“ Sure, we can go there. I need to go to the Apple Store in the mall to get a new iPad, and we could have lunch at The Boathouse,” Aunt Florence chimed.

“I would like to visit your flower shop, Aunt Florence.”

“How did you come to know about Flowers by Florence?”

“ Google, of course.”

“Researching me, I see…I guess that’s allowed.”

“ So Carlton, how long have you been an attorney with Sands and Anderson?”

“ Mother has been talking about me. I was fortunate to get a position right after I finished George Mason University. It was a who-you-know situation. My high school buddy’s father had a connection with Sands and Anderson. I got a "courtesy interview,” but to my surprise, the head lawyer in the firm offered me a position. I’ve been there for ten years now.

“ What about yourself?”

“I was born and raised in New York and graduated from Barnard and Banks Street College of Education. I’ve been teaching History, my love, for six years.

“ I know your Mom, my Aunt Edna, passed away when you were young.”

“ Yes, I was five when my mother died. She had emotional issues, my father said, and she willed herself to die. I know nothing more. Can you tell me more about my mother, Aunt Florence?  My father never remarried and raised me alone.  Speaking of my father, where is your father, Carlton? I know nothing about him either.”

Suddenly, Aunt Florence and Carlton gave each other a strange stare. There was a long pause before anyone spoke—talk about awkward silence. Aunt Florence responded.

 “Carlton’s father died soon after he was born. Drunk driver…very tragic.”

“ I’m so sorry.”

“Well, let’s clean up the table. What would you like to do this evening.”

“ I think I will take a walk to digest my dinner.”

“Splendid idea. I will come with you.”

“ No need to. I will just walk around the block or two.”

“The neighborhood is full of charm with flowering trees and such. Enjoy.”

Marie gave Carlton her cell number so he could let her know about the CATS tickets. The walk was just what she needed. It was so relaxing; this was a perfect retreat, leaving the chaotic life of New York behind. Old magnolia trees, crepe myrtles, and weeping willows adorned the neighborhood and homes. Marie lost track of time, for the sunset was giving way to dusk. Sitting on Aunt Florence’s house steps, she could hear low whispering voices from the dining room window.

“ She must never find out. I promised her mother before she died,” Aunt Florence insisted.

“ She must not know about my father…I know.” “ How many times do you have to tell me? " Carlton said, sounding annoyed.

“Okay, she will be here only for three short days. We will keep her busy, and then she will head back to New York,” Aunt Florence replied.

Family secrets…about Carlton’s father? Marie quietly left the steps and walked the neighborhood again to assuage her feelings of being deceived. What could the secret be? She decided to make up an excuse to shorten her stay and take the next train back to New York in the morning. Staying here any longer would not be a good idea. She couldn’t pretend, knowing they were. Marie knew she couldn’t stand to watch the niceties of her Aunt and her son, knowing they couldn’t wait for her to leave. By the time Marie arrived back at the house, Carlton was gone.

“ Did you enjoy your walk?” asked Aunt Florence.

“Yes, I did, but I will leave in the morning. My good friend, Barbara, is ill and needs me to be with her. I received a call from her during my walk.”

“ I am so sorry you will leave soon, but I understand. Supporting friends is important. Plan another trip to see me when you can.”

What a fake, Marie said to herself.  She couldn’t wait to be gone. Her thoughts were all over the place as she packed, and her sleep was restless. There was a seat on train 95 at 6:54 AM headed to Penn Station. As she climbed the Main Street Station steps, her mind was still racing. On the elevator going up to the train platform, it was still racing, and sitting on the bench waiting for the train…still racing. She figured out what to do as the train crossed the James River. 

Marie would talk to her Dad because, hopefully, he would know the family secret that Aunt Florence was hiding from her. She always trusted her Dad to be truthful. Marie called and told him that her train arrived at 2:14 PM and suggested they meet for lunch at the station. Alidora is a restaurant at Penn Station that has a vegetarian sandwich that she loves called the Mona Lisa.

The train arrived at 2:12 PM. Her Dad already had a table for them at Alidora. He moved her suitcase to a corner near their table and hugged her. As she sat down, he could see the anxiety in my eyes.

“ I can tell something is weighing on you. What happened at Florence’s?”

“ Secrets, Dad. Who is Carlton’s father? Do you know…please tell me.”

The question caused her Dad’s face to look drained of blood.  He was pale and stared at his reflection on the transparent plate in front of him. As he slowly raised his head, Marie could see that his soft brown eyes were beginning to well with tears.

“ What is it, Dad?  Tell me!”

“ I am Carlton’s father.”

Her first visit to Richmond, Virginia, would be her last, and her first meeting with Aunt Florence would be her last. Her trust in her father dissolved into nothingness. Bradley’s response to his daughter’s question forever changed her life.