Writing the antidote

Mama Doe and fawns behind our kitchen, from 5 August 2026.

I'm rereading On Being Brave because the grandsons have gone home and in a day or so, I'll have time to hopefully complete this.... It's a novel, plain and simple, this section set in summer of 1999 concerning the Lund family.

Not a short story, not even a novella. But it will be part of a collection of tales linking four arcs of a series. Huh. Didn't expect that.

Nor did I plan to share the following excerpt, but in starting at Chapter 12, well, this chapter is why I write what I do. It's an antidote to a smidgen of the negative aspects of this world. It's one antidote, lol, but indicative of the underlying themes of my fiction. That shite happens, but if we are brave, our hearts recover larger than previously. More able to love. More able to forgive, which at times might be more important. And certainly more capable of moving forward.

Anyway, here's Chapter 12. Enjoy!

 

Chapter 12

I don’t care what you think, Gilly wrote on the college-ruled lined paper Ross had shoved onto her tray table.

She then squinted, trying to read in the near dark what he had last written, only to make sure she didn’t give a shit what he’d said. They were nearly four hours into their sixteen-hour flight back to Melbourne, but not home for Gilly. Despite how vehemently all in Jumpville wanted her to remain with Ross, Gilly was through with him. In returning to Australia, all she wanted was to pack her most precious possessions, ship them home, then flee a nation she loved, but not the man to whom it belonged.

For a brief moment, Gilly wished she and Ross were telepathic, if only to have this asinine conversation without the need for writing implements, paper, and the sense she was interrupting those wishing to get as much rest as possible on this long, dumb flight. She wanted to apologize for her actions, which try as she might, couldn’t halt. Every time she wrote for Ross to leave her alone, he scribbled something stupid, thrusting the paper at her and she didn’t possess the self-restraint to ignore him. As a licensed therapist, she resented his attempts, also lamented her unwillingness to remove herself from the situation, but it was hard when seated next to him in economy. If they had splurged like she’d wanted and were flying business, she would be wearing earplugs and an eye mask and would be snuggled into a far more comfortable seat. But like usual Ross was frugal, and Gilly had acquiesced to his thriftiness, his stinginess, his outright penny-pinching asshole habits and….

She blinked away tears, her heart so sore, filled with sorrow for her youngest brother as well as Greg and Pams because even if they did get pregnant right away, the baby they had fallen in love with first was…. Sean William was still among them, according to Chella, but the thread of life was slender, and now damaged. Fucking Careen, Gilly fumed, then carefully she laid the paper on Ross’ table, wishing she was seated in first class, stretched out on one of those fancy beds she had seen on ads, but never experienced in real life.

Gilly wanted to stare out the window, but like all on that plane, hers was obscured by the shade, and if Ross wrote to her again, she was ready to be done with this ridiculous business like he was Juana and they were passing notes in class. Gilly and Juana had spent an afternoon together at Juana’s house in Cloverdale, Juana’s husband and three kids elsewhere, allowing two women the chance to catch up unfettered. They’d spoken about Hugh of course, and Careen, but not in an overtly gossipy manner, merely that Gilly had someone objective with whom to unload all her anger. Juana was much like Lupe, willing to give someone a decent amount of space, but ultimately Juana agreed with Gilly; Careen was a disaster, the baby was in trouble, and the three youngest Lunds, which included Pams, were going to get their hearts shattered no matter what happened.

Gilly didn’t incorporate herself in that trio because she had kept Sean William in a safe outlying area. The psychologist in me, she permitted, but that’s not doing jack for me right now, she then sighed softly, hearing Ross adding to the note. Jerk, she thought, wishing to lift the shade from the window if only to confirm it was dark out, of course it was nighttime. It was winter here in the northern hemisphere, and while she would ship her favorite summer clothes, in suitcases would go sweaters and long pants, thick socks and…. She sniffled, wondering what in Ross felt it so necessary to blame the least guilty person for Liza’s death. Dr. Kevin was still a wreck, he’d never recover. Or he wouldn’t as long as Ross was such a dick about it.

Ross slipped the paper onto Gilly’s table, then snorted. Gilly didn’t look at him, instead staring at the plane’s interior, or what she could see from the tiny bulb casting scant light onto her tray table. The window wasn’t any larger than typical jet windows, but this was a huge aircraft, three seats where they were, another five in the aisle, and three more on the other side. It was full of travelers having felt the need to spend Christmas and New Year’s away from home, maybe because of Y2K or merely to spite it. Gilly and her family had possessed an inside track on a calamity that turned out to be a molehill instead of the perceived mountain. And as far as Gilly knew, everything on this planet would remain fine through the early 2020s. Twenty more years of the same old same old, she smiled inwardly, then Ross quietly cleared his throat. She frowned, grunted almost imperceptibly, then without moving her head gazed peripherally at the paper on her table. Then she shrugged, not wishing to strain her neck. Ross had written what looked a long paragraph, but Gilly didn’t want to know what he said.

What would it matter, she grimaced. How awful was resentment, revenge, re-, re-…. Then she blinked away copious tears due to what a terrible person she had become because Ross was such an A-hole. She used to love him with such passion, tenderness; she had left France for him! Dominique had drunkenly but honestly noted she no longer hated Ross, and that she also hoped Gilly would find it in her heart to reconcile with her husband. Why did I take your damned name but not marry you, Gilly mused. Maybe only to make Dominique less mad. Or sad. Or less…. Less feeling like everyone had left her, but she’s not my mother, only an auntie. How did going so far away from my real mother make her feel, Gilly uncomfortably wondered.

Suze always said she understood, that she was glad Gilly didn’t feel the need to tie herself to Jumpville like Greg had. None there ever showed displeasure, well, Gilly’s father occasionally griped, but Richard’s annoyance was always tempered with gratitude for Gilly’s existence. Now she wept in silence, missing her father’s voice from her head. They were far away enough from California that she only heard her mother, but it was probably past midnight, even Suze asleep. I wanted to be just like you Mom, Gilly mused, going as far enough away but still being a part of you. I speak six languages fluently, another two if necessary, and I can even fake my way in Swahili.

She giggled, the latter being due to a bet made with Juana when they were sixteen. That if Gilly did really go to France for college, she had to learn to speak Swahili. Yet it hadn’t been hard, it was a lot like Donsaret, which she only could speak with her mother, and just when Suze was drunk, though they spoke Parcathn inwardly, how Suze had taught her daughter a language no longer dead as long as Gilly could someday teach it to one other.

The telepathic tongues were held in a part of Gilly’s brain she hoped to never lose. The rest were employed as often as she was able, Spanish, French, and Japanese, Dutch, Portuguese, and of course English, which possessed its own dialects, Australian and British and Californian. And Swahili, she smiled, unconsciously glancing at what waited on her tray table, glowing in the dark in Ross’ precise cursive writing.

You asked why I hate Kevin, Ross began. My heart burned inside me reading that, but not because I expected you to know, but why you even had to ask. Then my guts churned, I thought I was going to mess myself. But the bloke next to us is so fucking out of it, I’d have to climb over him to reach the toilet, and by then I’d be a fucking mess. So instead I closed my eyes and thought about your question.

Maybe there’s things about Liza and me I’ve never told you. How being the youngest of four, the only male, and so much younger than my sisters, made me grow up with the concrete knowledge that if any one of my beloved sisters had been a boy, I wouldn’t exist. Not that my parents didn’t love me, they did, but I’m only here because they were damned certain a male descendent was imperative to their happy lifestyle. I don’t think it was that they needed me to carry on the Whitlow family name, and if they did, that was a colossal failure. Did they ever mention that to you, I mean, early on? You’ve never said anything about it, did they even know why you never wanted kids?

But that doesn’t have much to do with myself and Liza. God, I miss her, which is terrible because if it had been Tamara or Willa, no big deal. Do you realize Tamara could’ve been my mother? My God, sometimes I’m amazed Mum even had the wherewithal to even have one more kid. Thank God I am male or she’d have had at least one more.

Still, I’m not dealing with Liza. LIZA…. Liza Whitlow never had to change her name, but she would have for Kevin. She’d have given him the fucking moon if he’d casually mentioned it. She had the biggest heart, the most minimal sense of self. She wanted to be a nun, did you know that? She adored St. Therese of, of, of…. Shit, I don’t know the fucking order, other than she was a teenage nun in France at the end of the 1800s. Died of tuberculosis before she was twenty-five. Super into God, but I guess that goes without saying. That’s why Liza was single for so long, she kept waiting for God to tell her it was time to become a nun. Shit! Why didn’t he, why’d she have to fall in love with…. Christ!

Not that she FELL in love with Jesus, don’t misconstrue. Kevin Whitlow ain’t no saint. He was….

Gilly paused due to the tears streaming down her face. That wasn’t the only reason, as the other side of the sheet was already full and Ross was writing on a new piece of paper. Rereading what he’d written, Gilly inhaled information previously unknown. Liza was indeed very kind, very humble, though she’d stretched that aspect of her character in order to inform Dr. Kevin how much she loved him. Did Kevin know any of this, Gilly wondered, wiping her face with the back of her hand, wishing she didn’t need to blow her nose, but snot was now dribbling from her left nostril, ready to splash wherever it landed. Quietly she sniffled, but that wasn’t enough to prevent what required a hard suck-back, yet that would be extremely noisy and Gilly didn’t want to alert anyone to her collapse.

Instead she wiped her nose on her left shoulder, not caring if it dried and left a mark. Her heart was already sporting a deep bruise, maybe an actual incision, as though St. Liza had crawled inside Gilly’s chest, surgically stitching her to Ross for the rest of their damned lives. We’re certainly damned now, Gilly mused, her love for him having been stirred not merely through his words, but from one woman who had laid claim on Gilly like another mother.

I just wanna go home, Gilly warbled inwardly. I don’t want to love him again, it hurts too much.

I know, Suze replied in silence. I completely understand.

What are you doing still awake, Gilly brusquely said via telepathy.

You’ve been on my heart all night.

Oh Mom! Gilly cried softly, then shook her head. Is this how you felt with, um, Daddy?

Suze seemed to sniffle, then she sighed inwardly: After I learned what he was going to do with the steers. I never wanted to love him again.

Gilly trembled, not having considered that moment in many years. Her own fear, that Suze would leave, felt to undo all those recent sutures Liza had stitched. How’d you forgive him, Gilly had to know.

Margaritas, Suze smirked inwardly.

What?

You heard me.

Oh my God, Gilly inwardly giggled. Then she sighed, hearing Ross still writing. Seriously Mom, how’d you do it?

All I remember now is Chella reminding me…. Suze paused, snorted in silence, then continued: She compared me to a character on The Shining Sun. Said I needed to forgive your father like she’d forgiven….

Noth, Gilly said in the Donsaret language.

Yes, Noth. Suze also spoke in Donsaret.

Gilly shivered, for Suze wasn’t being truthful: Chella really compared Grandma Marsh to Stacy Wilkins, didn’t she?

Now Suze trembled, what Gilly could feel all through herself. After that awful day, Gilly had never again seen Celia’s mother, who died only a few years ago. Richard had sent Gilly the obituary from a Santa Rosa paper, but Suze had already let Gilly know. It hadn’t mattered to Gilly, because at the time Liza was still alive, though no longer receiving cancer treatments. How bizarre that someone so consumed with hate lived to be that old, Gilly had thought then and now, while a person so saintly died well before their time.

Suze didn’t respond, but Gilly hadn’t shared all this with her mother. Then Suze cleared her throat, speaking again in Donsaret: I loved Richard very much, but wasn’t at all prepared to accept it. When Lydia told me about the steers, I understood her basic motivation; she hated me because I was black, how she perceived me. But what I’ve learned over the years is Lydia herself had been harmed, not by anyone we know, merely in her upbringing to project that much loathing on what she couldn’t comprehend. I was as stymied by how little she loved Celia as well as how much vitriol she possessed. But if you hate with that much strength, indeed there is little room for love.

Gilly inhaled deeply, her heart vaguely aching, Liza’s stitching mostly healed. But how did Ross feel, Gilly wondered.

He placed a new piece of paper on top of the filled sheet. Gilly glanced at his writing, then shivered: Kevin was the best thing to ever happen to my sister, after God of course. And I could only deal with that on a surface level, in that yeah, she deserved to be happy, to have fallen in love with a human being. I’m not talking any alien stuff, shit. We’ll have to burn this when we get home otherwise someone will think we’ve lost it.

Liza fell in love with a man who tangibly loved her back, and yet couldn’t save her. And to this day, I’m still pissed at God, but I guess it’s been easier to blame Kevin. Sorry I’m so fucking lame about this.

Gilly closed her eyes, letting Ross’ words tumble in her mind. She wasn’t at all ready for them to swim around in her heart, but she passed them to her mother.

Suze snorted, then sighed: What Richard and I pretty much thought.

Oh yeah, Gilly warbled inwardly, her face aching from so many tears shed.

Uh-huh. Well, maybe now that he’s admitted it, one day he’ll put it behind him. But definitely burn that piece of paper as soon as you’re able.

Gilly giggled aloud, very softly. Ross cleared his throat. “You all right?” he whispered.

Gilly nodded, then muttered Yeah through clenched teeth.

“Um, okay,” Ross mumbled in reply.

Against all she wished to do, Gilly lifted her right hand, placing it on Ross’ left. She briefly squeezed, then released him.

He made a small sound, like Liza was now inside his chest cavity, carving on his heart. Gilly could feel the brutal cuts, for once again she was tethered to this man, despite slightly wishing she could hurl herself through the airplane window.

Thankfully you can’t, Suze inwardly interjected.

How’d you know, Gilly silently muttered under her breath.

How I felt walking to the menudo party. Have a drink and go to sleep. We’ll talk later on today.

I love you Mom.

I love you too honey.

Gilly sniffled, pressing the call button overhead. Inwardly she told Ross what she was doing, asking if he too wanted a glass of wine.

Inwardly he remarked that he did. Then he gasped: Are we telepathic now?

I guess, Gilly replied in silence. Don’t get used to it, she added.

Why not?

Because there’s no guarantees in this life.

Does that include us, Ross asked tentatively and silently.

Dunno, Gilly answered. She softly cleared her throat, again gripped his hand, but this time didn’t let go. Within a minute an attendant paused at their aisle. Ross ordered two glasses of red wine, and something to eat. Gilly still held his hand, hoping this was the right thing to do.