Giant Men and Violent Women

Thank You

ASHLEY

I smell the myrrh oil and know Father Dane is here. I open my eyes. Flowers on wallpaper. Is Gram attempting to reach Chap? This soon?

According to our Catholicism, the dead need to head to Rejuvenation before they can visit the living and tell them the lessons they've learned in this lifetime. Chap just passed, so according to tradition, we don't attempt to reach him until six months after his death. Gram must be desperate. Lonely.

I sit up in bed.

Gram hasn't made a big deal out of Chap's death. Granted, he was old already, so I'm sure she anticipated his demise. But murder? No one anticipates that. Well, no one, except the murderer. But Gram hasn't even cried. She took her husband's death on the chin. He's a martyr now. He'll be remembered with honor, like The Twenty-Four who started this town. He'd fought for what he believed, and he was killed for it. For Gram, though she might mourn him, there is more honor in his death than in his life. She might be from Boston, but she has a Darling state of mind.

I get out of bed.

The smell of myrrh leads me out of the room and toward the steps. The house is quiet. The prison workers have been asked to leave. The dead appreciate silence. I head down the steps and notice that even the guard who mans the front door is gone. Gram wants complete stillness as she attempts to reach her husband.

I land at the bottom of the staircase.

The smell of myrrh leads me past the kitchen, down the hall, and toward Chap and Gram's history room, a room filled with mementos, family memorabilia, and their beloved version of The Apocrypha Book of Wisdom. The door is closed. Not for long.

I press a forehead against the door. I hear nothing. I know this is a private moment for Gram, but something in me can't resist checking on her. She might be a sharp old lady, but still, she's an old lady. She might have years to live—alone. She'll be all alone, playing second fiddle to a daughter-in-law she hates whose husband is now the head of Darling society. Gram's entire life was changed with the pounding of bullets into flesh.

Slowly, very slowly, I turn the knob. I crack the door open.

Great Aunt.

She's lying back on a chaise, head propped on a pillow, eyes closed. Father Dane is sitting in a chair next to her, as a therapist would his patient. Gram is off to the side, sitting in an Old Hampshire chair, intently watching the scene.

I listen.

"What lessons has he learned?" Father Dane asks Great Aunt.

"There is no point in trying," Great Aunt says in a relaxed voice.

"No sense in trying?"

"On earth, you will win, and you will lose. No matter how good you try to be, you will always lose something. Success isn't based on working hard or being better." She pauses.

Gram and Father Dane wait for her.

"Is your son talking to you now?" Father Dane finally says.

Her son? Governor Wheat? Governor Wheat talking to Great Aunt?

I know this is part of our religion, having an open communication with souls, but, well, do I actually believe this? Or do I believe this in the same way Catholics believe that Jesus is walking around heaven with a soul and a body since his body was never found? Jesus's fully functioning body is a part of the Christian religion, but do you believe this? Can you believe this is possible? Or do we all just nod our heads and say we believe but secretly know better? We get the point of what the Bible writers were saying: Jesus is special. Because, come on, while we know that Jesus was fantastic, we all kind of think that his body was probably stolen. Possibly misplaced? I believe in talking to a dead man like I believe in Jesus's two-thousand-year old heart still ticking.

"He says that it's a good thing that we don't succeed on a merit system," Great Aunt says. "If you had to do things right or perfectly to be successful, we'd live in fear."

"Fear?" Father Dane asks.

"Fear of not being perfect. But, once you understand that you can be imperfect and still have good things happen to you, fear is gone. That was his life's lesson. Living without fear." She grows silent.

Gram, Father Dane, and I wait.

"He needs to repeat his lesson," Great Aunt then says. "I hate to hear that, sugar. I love you. I wish you had learned your lesson..." She seems to be talking to Governor Wheat.

Gram leans forward in her chair. Great Aunt grows quiet. Father Dane expectantly waits by. He looks at Gram, and she looks at him. They remain silent.

"Rachel," Father Dane says to Great Aunt, "does your son know who finished his life?" Fuck.

I look at Gram. She looks at Great Aunt. Gram doesn't know. Chap already told me that he never told Gram, and he never would. She and Great Aunt are best friends. She wouldn't have approved of Chap ordering her son's life to be taken. We all wait for Great Aunt to answer the question.

"He knows," she says.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"My Lord!" Great Aunt yells. "Chap, what are you doing here?"

"Chap?" Gram says, standing up, stunned. "My Chap is there?"

"He's with my boy!" Great Aunt says, excited. "They're together! Oh, that makes me feel so much better!"

"Chap?" Gram says. "Can you hear me?"

"Wait a minute. Now...all right...will you two come back?" "Where are they going?" Gram asks.

Father Dane looks between the two friends. We all wait as Great Aunt appears to be listening.

"Chap says it's not about who did it," Great Aunt says. "It's about why they did it. Lessons are always in learning the why not the who. He says for you to put that down in the Book of Wisdom." "Why did they kill your son?" Father Dane asks.

Great Aunt goes quiet.

"They're gone," she says.

Chap.

I ease the door closed, and finally, alone, I take the time to mourn for my great-grandfather.