My Sweet Carol

“She’s beautiful, Mrs. Gray,” Nurse Janine said as she squeezed Loretta’s cold hand. The smell of iron and disinfectant filled Loretta’s nostrils, and the lights burned brighter. The intense whiteness of the hospital room started transforming into something angelic. The stench of chemicals and blood became less harsh, and the tantalizing whiff of freshly baked bread danced in the air. “Ms. Lockheart,” Loretta corrected. It took a decent amount of strength for her to mutter those words. “Ms. Lockheart,” Janine affirmed.

*

Mrs. Gray is the name of a woman unhappily married to Horace Gray, a geriatric waste of flesh and oxygen who parades the Earth spewing his hatefulness. A miserable drunk who hits his wife and child and claims he is the one in charge. The “man of the house” if you will. How can he oversee his family if he can’t even control his own behaviors? Loretta refuses to keep being Mrs. Gray. She wishes she could turn back time and be Loretta Lockheart again. Loretta Lockheart was a lover. A lover of life, of art. Of food and wine and dancing under the moonlight. She remembers the first time she danced with Carol. Carol was also a lover of many things. Carol was the inverse of Horace; she was delicate and careful with how she navigated this world. She always smiled at strangers and offered her kindness with zero expectations of anything in return. Her humility was free, unconditional. Whenever she raised her hand towards Loretta, it wasn’t to strike her across her face, rather, it was an offer to dance. Loretta adored Carol. Loretta loved Carol, deeply. Carol returned the feelings.

*

There she is, standing at the doorway. She is gorgeous as always.

“Honey,” Loretta said

“Yes Ms. Lockheart?”

“Don’t give up?”

“Don’t give up what?”

Loretta didn’t respond that time. Nurse Janine continued to hold Loretta’s’ hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled, “I won’t, Ms. Lockheart.”

*

“Taste this,” Carol shoved her strawberry jam covered finger in Loretta’s mouth with a last-minute warning. Loretta coughed but was quickly delighted by the taste. “Mmm, that’s incredible!”

“Ya think so?”

“I do. You have such talent Carol, I think you should open up your own bakery. I really do.”

“We should open our own bakery. You’ll bake your bread and pastries and I’ll make my jam and pie fillings and donut frostings. We can do this, together. I want to do this together.”

“Please don’t tease me like this.”

“I’m serious, Rettie. Please. Do this with me.”

Loretta gripped Carol’s hand tightly. “My sweet Carol, you know I wish I could. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. They won’t accept us. No one will.”

“Who cares though? We don’t need them, we only each other.”

“I can’t. Horace asked for my hand in marriage. He has money and can take care of me. My father approves of him. You and I have no money. We have no way to live.”

“Living a lie is no way to live, either. I would rather be dirt poor and with you than be with anyone else and have all the money in the world.”

Loretta was tempted. She wanted the same things Carol wanted. But admitting that out loud was simply not an option.

Loretta and Horace got married in 1966 in a cathedral. Loretta converted to Catholicism for Horace and his family, though she never felt like a Catholic. She never felt The Holy Spirit penetrating her psyche like she was promised. Nevertheless, she attended church every Sunday for 20 years. She birthed a boy named Michael in 1967. She wanted a girl. Loretta was resentful towards her husband and towards her baby because of her husband. She hated being pregnant with Horace’s child, it felt like a parasite growing inside her. She didn’t feel the motherly love or connection with Micheal once he was born. She wanted to feel that way, she really did. She tried forcing it. Another phenomenal feeling that was promised to her as long as she played by the rules. But the feeling wasn’t there. Loretta hated the sound of her son crying, sometimes she would turn up the volume on the television to drown him out. She always turned her cheek the other way whenever Horace unleashed his anger on him. She couldn’t help but see her brute husband in Michaels eyes. His eyes looked like his fathers. His smile, also like his father. Loretta hated her son for that. Michael had his mother’s nose, however. Cute little button nose. Loretta would boop his nose with her fingertip when he was little every chance she got. She hoped she could forge some kind of connection in her heart by acknowledging that he has her nose. Nothing. It wasn’t until Michaels sudden and unexpected death in 1982. He hung himself. The shrill scream that left Loretta’s mouth when she discovered her son was sharp enough to cut glass. He was dangly, his limbs limp. He didn’t even look real. He looked like a car crash dummy. Maybe that’s not him. Maybe that’s just a dummy that looks like him. It’s a prank. He’s pranking us. That must be it. That has to be it. But it wasn’t a dummy and it wasn’t a prank. It was real. It was then that Loretta was able to fully appreciate her son. Her baby boy. Him no longer existing suddenly made his existence meaningful. That was the first time that Loretta felt that motherly connection.

After Micheals death, Loretta realized that she needed to pursue her own happiness. She needed to leave Horace and chase the things that brought her purpose. Carol brought her purpose, but Loretta was more concerned with her image. Michael brought her purpose, but Loretta refused to love him until it was too late. She wasn’t making that mistake a third time. 

*

“Do you need anything Ms. Lockheart? Are you hungry? I can get you a Jell-o cup if you want.” Nurse Janine started to pull away when Loretta grabbed her hand. The word “stay” escaped her lips. Loretta wanted nothing more than for someone to stay.

*

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m looking to speak with Carol Benson.”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Loretta Lockheart, I’m a dear friend of Carols’. She called me Rettie sometimes. I haven’t spoken to her in years, I was hoping to do some catching up.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about you. Carol spoke of you often.”

“May I speak with her please?”

……

“Hello?”

“Carol is gone, Loretta.”

“Where did she go.”

“No, I mean she’s gone. I’m so sorry.”

“No no, that’s not…no I looked her up and this is where she lives. I just need to speak with her, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No no, I need to talk to her. Please.”

“I’m sorry Loretta. Goodbye.”

Click

Loretta opened a bakery in 1988 called ‘Sweet Carol’s Bakery’. She ran her business until she fell ill in 2018.

*

“Isn’t she beautiful, nurse?

“Is who beautiful?”

“Her,” Loretta raised a boney finger and shakily pointed at an empty doorway.

“She’s beautiful, Mrs. Gray.”

“Rettie, my love, it is time to go home soon. Michael is here too. Such a lovely young man. We’ve missed you.”