Love Metamorphosis

Chapter 3

                  

Jemma stepped onto the platform, pausing long enough to wave at Mary before walking into the crowd. She heard the faint squeak of the wheels behind her even though it was nearly drowned out by the noise of the station. She always felt small in large crowds, like the true measure of her existence was a grain of sand upon a beach or in this case a body in a busy train station. At least a grain of sand is powerless in the pull of the sea, but she was a thinking entity.

Glad she had decided to pack light, Jemma readjusted the strap on her shoulder for her travel bag before walking the last stint to the street. The breeze of the spring afternoon struck her face, it made her feel alive and refreshed. She strained her neck slightly to see if her father or two busy brothers remembered to send her a car.

Her face spread into a grin at the black Beamer parked along the street curb; it was her father's car. It was obvious from the license plate 'TTrnspt.' She took slow measured steps toward the car. Jemma could see the thinning black hair and characteristic graying. She stood there a moment, watching him as he read the paper, he loved to read the news. Jemma tapped on the glass and watched him startled himself out of reading.

He rolled down the window a bit. "Can I help you little miss?" He asked coyly, likely to make her laugh.

"Papa, I am too old for that now," Jemma said with a warm smile, just being with her father made her feel better, "It is going to start raining again and my umbrella is safely tucked away in my bag." She informed him and put her hands on her hips for good measure.

"Ah, yes, we are never too old for fun," her father said as he unlocked the doors and popped the trunk.

She tossed the bag into the trunk, as the first rain drop hit her forehead. Tucking the travel bag beside it she pushed the trunk closed before sliding into the passenger seat. There was a moment of silence as he pulled into the moving traffic and took them through downtown DC. She always forgot how insane drivers were there until she returned.

She had grown up most of her life in Maine and spent most of her adult life in Pennsylvania. Her fiancé had been stationed there and that is how they had met. She was finishing up her Ph.D. in Child Phycology, and he was taking fire courses to fight forest fires. He was from Alaska, and she had been there once on a cruise as a child, that is why they had started talking.

Soon after they were having coffee and talking about the last frontier, his home, much to her surprise because he was so far from home. He was part Samoan, Italian, and German. She remembered how big and almost scary he had seemed by size alone, standing at nearly 6'3" and built like a defensive lineman. However, she had been taught not to judge on appearance alone. Some of the scariest people were no bigger than she, while those as big as Jeff, and were as sweet as puppies. She flinched internally; it was hard to say his name even in her head.

Within a week they were thick as thieves and within a month they had their first date. It didn't take long for both of them to be smitten with one another. A year later they went on that vacation to Hawaii, the one she had been dreaming about, and she went to Alaska and met his parents. The happiest moments of her life.

His mother, Mika, was Samoan, and kept feeding Jemma food, everywhere she turned there was always a dish of some sort in front of her. His father, Roberto, was the Italian-German. A very handsome man and obviously the person Jeff had taken most after. One night they went all around town to visit places that Jeff had loved, and while they were parked at the dock, watching the sun go down, he proposed.

"You don't have to rush this baby; no one is expecting you to recover so soon," her father said plainly. James Turner was a very direct man, and most times Jemma appreciated the straightforward demeanor, but this was not one of those times.

"I want him to be taken care of immediately. His family deserves closure. I can't delay for myself, papa. He wanted to be buried with his fallen brethren at the firehouse. This is the least I can do for him." Biting her bottom lip she looked out of the window as the first misty rainfalls came down.

He was silent a moment, there was something about his silence that made Jemma calm down. The faint smell of cigars and aftershave filled her nostrils and she was instantly wrapped tightly in the nostalgic feeling of home. She had lived in a few different households as a child but her father's smell never changed and that was home to her.

"Jemma, I am just worried for you. When I lost your mother I was a wreck. If it wasn't for your Aunt I would have withered away into nothing." He stopped at a red light and turned his face to her. He was watching her with one of his famous I-will-get-the-truth-one-way-or-another expressions.

"Dad, I don't feel all that together. Honestly I think I am still in shock, it really hasn't settled in that he is gone. I expect him to jump out of every corner and tell me it was all a terrible joke and we laugh it off. I don't know," her voice hitched and she closed her eyes to steady herself. She pressed her fingers to her face before rubbing her forehead and adding, "It was going to be the happiest day of my life one second and the next I am standing in my wedding dress in the hospital and they are telling me I am a widow before I am even a bride."

"I know baby," he took her slim hands in his fists. "I just want you to be ready to say goodbye."

"I don't know if I ever will be. Jeff was my other half in the universe," Jemma gave a half smile. "He had written it in his vows, I found it back at the hotel written on crumpled pieces of paper. He must have written them 100 times until he got it right. I loved that about him."

"How does that story go again?" He asked a little too enthusiastically.

"Papa, I have told it to you a hundred times." Jemma said with a shake of her head. She knew what he was up to and was thankful for it.

"Tell me once more, it has been so long and I am getting so old." He said in all seriousness of tone and no seriousness of pretense.

"You are still quite young, but very well," Jemma cleared her throat and straightened her back, "Once everyone was made up of two parts combined into one body in complete harmony. Perfect halves for one another, then one day a god became jealous of their combined happiness and sent lightning bolts down from the heavens. It split everyone in half and left them wandering the world for their missing half. In many cultures they are considered soul mates."

"Your mother was an angel. She wasn't just my other half she was the better half." Ezera chuckled turning the car into a parking spot. "She loved that story." He muttered as his memories wandered to his deceased wife.

"I wish I could remember her better." Jemma said softly. They pulled up to the church but she didn't make a move to get out of the car as her father turned off the car.

"You were barely 12 when she passed away. I am just happy you can share some memories with me; your brothers were 9 and 7. They don't really remember her like you do." Ezera watched his daughter with a certain pride and an equal amount of sympathy.

She leaned onto her father's shoulder suddenly very tired. She closed her eyes as she said, "We are now more alike than I thought possible."

"You will always be my oldest child and having been the oldest myself, you are more alike me then you could ever help," he kissed the top of her head, "But you have so much of your mother in you. She never liked the publicity, and just wanted a simple life. With family dinners and planning family vacations."

"I love you, Papa," Jemma said closing her eyes a moment.

"I love you too, Jemma," he said putting an arm around her. "My favorite daughter."

Jemma laughed despite herself and sat up a little wiping away a determined tear. "I am your only daughter." She reminded him.

"Yes, well, that is hardly relevant," Ezera's face was spread into a coy grin, "Shall we go inside and face the crowd?"

"Yes," Jemma turned her head over and toward the funeral home, "I am ready to say goodbye."

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