"Ruin and Redemption"

Michael's Return

It was a long Monday night in April. Derrick had gone to Charleston again on business, though Lizzie secretly wondered if it might not also be for the women. She had forced herself to admit earlier that her husband was a notorious womanizer. He could never be happy with her alone.

Lizzie was getting to bed when she felt his prescence near her. Michael, the love of her life.

The recognition startled her. She felt uneasy to be in the same room as a ghost, yet strangely comforted that Michael had still not left her. That he was still here sometimes when she needed him most.

Lizzie. The whispered name inside her head filled her with a strange warmth.

Yes, Michael.

Try not to worry, Lizzie. Your husband will be back soon this time. He's already taken care of the business he had to attend to, and he'll head back tomorrow or the day after.

I don't want him back, Michael. I want you. Why can't you come back for me and take me away from here?

I can't Lizzie. I don't have a working body to come back to. The only way I could come back would be as a baby. And then I wouldn't remember any of this Lizzie. I'm choosing to keep my full consciousness Lizzie. Someday when you don't need me anymore, and the children are grown and free. Then I'll start all over again, Lizzie. But I won't be Michael then."

Oh, Michael. Why can't you come back now? I need you so badly! I'd run away from Derrick. We'd both run away, and nobody would catch us this time. I wouldn't let them. I'd be right there, Michael. Right there..." Tears were running down Lizzie's cheeks now. She wiped the long frizzy black brown hair back from her face, and thought sadly of Michael's children in their mother's cabin. If only she could at least have the children here to comfort her! The house was so empty tonight, and her bed felt too big with Derrick gone.

I know you would Lizzie, my love. I love you, Lizzie. Be strong now.

I love you too, Michael. I wish you could come back. Oh, Michael, why can't you come back? I'm tired of being strong! Why can't you come back and help me, Michael? Why did you have to leave me behind again?

This time, Michael did not answer. I love you Lizzie. I'm sorry for leaving you. I wish I'd waited a little longer, Lizzie. But you have no idea how hard things were on your plantation.

Now, Lizzie was bawling, tears of guilt, rage and frustration. She knelt on the rug beside hers and Derrick's bed and leaned across it, crying into the mattress, then beating her fists against the bed angrily, and bawling some more. Her head started to hurt, and her jaw ached from the crying. She tried to stop crying, but her eyes pinched shut from the tears and she could hardly see. She stomped around her bedroom in a fury. She could sense Michael and she could "hear" Michael speaking to her. But she couldn't see him. She couldn't throw herself into his arms and lean against his chest, and the frustration and loneliness was driving her into a fury. She stomped around the bedroom, every now and then stopping in front of the mirro to catch a glimpse of herself and make sure she was still all there. It gave her an odd sense of reassurance to see the tears streaming over her face, and the sad scowl distorting her wailing features. She was not completely alone. The girl in the mirror cried with her, and stomped out her own rage and fury, and wish for destruction.

Lizzie flung open the closet and took a long look at Derrick's shirts. So white and pristine. She wanted to rip them to shreds. Instead she took them from the hangers, flung them on the bed and pounded her fists into them, and cried her tears into them.

"How can you leave me too?" She asked the pile of shirts that represented Derrick.

When she was tired of venting her frustration, sadness and anger at the shirts, she gathered them up into a ball and flung them into a corner. Patsy will just have more washing, she thought, a tad guiltily. But something in her felt that Patsy deserved the extra washing. Her being married to Derrick was all Patsy's fault. And di Patsy ever try to stop him from going to Charleston? No, she didn't. She was glad for Derrick to go, because it gave him another opportunity to buy something for her. He had brought something back for Patsy three out of his five last trips to Charleston. Patsy didn't care if Lizzie had to stay alone in the Big House so long as she got herself a present from Charleston!

Patsy could have at least offered to stay while Derrick was gone! It wasn't as if Derrick was gone every night! She had helped Patsy get out of the chore of staying with her every night by marrying Derrick. Couldn't Patsy stand to do it once in awhile? That was all she needed; Didn't she deserve that much?

Michael had left her to go to the plantation, and then to run North, further away from her. And now her nincompoop husband left her for Scarlett or the whores of Charleston every chance he got. She never knew whether or not she would have to sleep alone, and it was driving her crazy.

Calm down, Lizzie. Enough. You've cried and lost your temper all you need to for tonight. Pick Derrick's shirts up. He's going to need them when he comes back.

Lizzie pretended to ignore him, but inside she became more peaceful, and her crying became softer. Finally, she made her way over to the pile of white shirts, and hung them up in the closet piece by piece.

"I miss you." She said to one of the shirts. "Come home, Derrick, please." She told another.

"Oh, Michael! Why can't either one of you stay with me? Why is everyone always leaving?" She asked aloud.

I had to go, Lizzie. There was no other way. You have the kids now Lizzie.Someday you'll understand why. I always loved you and I still do.

I love you too, Michael. But I'll never understand why you left me.

Someday, Lizzie...Someday you will... There are other things I have to do tonight. But I'll be back, Lizzie.

 That night, when Lizzie slept, she dreamed of the time when she was wearing the navy blue dress, and she had to lean down to kiss Michael in her room. He had been so warm. She remembered how warm he had been and how his heart raced beneath her head on his chest. Then her dream took a surprising turn. She was allowing Michael to remove her jacket. His hand came to rest on her blouse, just above her bosom. She could feel his hand warming her soft breast. In her sleep she moved her hand to rest on top of his hand, to caress the back of his hand that was resting loosely on her breast. Michael was alive; Michael had not died. His kisses and his hand on her breast told her he was alive. She had had a strange nightmare that she was old and married to Derrick and Michael had gone to the fields to be with that girl with the red kerchief who had once been her companion, and she had walked in on them together and whipped the girl within an inch of her life. What a horrible thing to do She would never do that! Michael would believe her. She had to tell Michael about her nightmare. He couldn't let any of it happen. It was just too horrible; Michael would never leave her!

But Michael was kissing her, and the kisses were so wonderfully warm. She didn't want to speak; she only wanted to go on kissing Michael forever and ever. 

When Lizzie woke up the next morning, her sheets were drenched in sweat. She must have tossed and turned all night long. Her cheeks grew hot with shame when she remembered the dream. She, a married woman, had spent the night dreaming of her old love. And in her dream, she had not stopped Michael. She had not been married then. She had had no husband, no one but Michael.

Lizzie stumbled out of bed. She had to check Michael's room. It had been so real, she could not believe it had been a dream. Perhaps she was dreaming now. In a few minutes she would be back in Michael's room with him.

The floor felt espescially cold that morning as Lizzie walked down the hall to Michael's old room, the room where she now kept the fractured canvas. Lizzie threw open the door. The room had never looked so desolate or empty before.

She felt like crying all over again. It was too bad Michael's ghost had other responsibilities. Otherwise, she would have him with her all the time. 

She brightened a bit, remembering that Patsy would be in shortly. Perhaps she was already in the kitchen making breakfast, and since Derrick was away, she didn't need to put on her corset and fix her hair before making her way to the table.

She wondered whether to tell Patsy about her dream, and decided against it. Patsy would likely not approve of her dreaming such realistic dreams of Michael when Derrick was her husband now. Lizzie grimaced. It was so unfair sometimes! Derrick had worked so hard to win her over, only to go out with other women, as if he were still single, while she had to behave like a proper lady at all times. She sighed heavily. Perhaps she would get dressed before breakfast after all. It would give her a chance to relive her dream without Patsy butting in to ask what she was thinking. She was certain now she wanted to keep this to herself.