Violets Are Blue

Chapter 21:Violet

I was awoken by the ring of the doorbell. I know it was already passed eight which meant Abigail was gone. I know she has to be doing yoga. Is it to relieve stress? I don’t know if she has been stressing out. If so then I may be the cause for it. The doorbell rang again, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I walked down to answer it.There was a mexican lady standing in the door. She was in her late fifties, and looked a little familiar. Her hair was short and choppy. She wore a nice green floral dress with a thick brown jacket.
“Can I help you ma’am?” I said.
“Yes, are you Violet Jefferson?” she said. She had a thick spanish accent.
“Yes I am.” I replied, curious to what she wanted with me.
“You may not know me but I know you, my name is Maria Sanchez. Lilliana has told me much about you.”
It became clear to me that this woman was Lily’s mother. “You must be Lily’s mother. Thank you for coming but she and I had a falling out.”
I couldn’t deal with this at the moment but I had to tell her, “I found out Lily was using again, and never helped my mother. I haven’t talked to her since yesterday evening.”
“I know what happened, that’s why I’m here. Forgive me, I found your information sheet in her apartment and I had to see you.”
My heart skipped a beat. Does she know my mother got Lily hooked? Is she here for revenge?
“Did something happen?” I said.
the lady breathed in, “Lily passed away last night.”
My heart sank. all of my emotions were swept away from my body, and I became weak and sluggish. The gravity around me was heavier now. I held on to the door to keep myself up.
“W-what?” I stuttered.
“She died of a drug overdose. I know you were good friends with Lily, you were even the last person she talked to according to that receptionist at the rehab clinic. I thought you would like to know.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “When’s the funeral?”
“it’s in two days. All of her family is already here so we don’t have to wait so long.”
“Thank you.” I said. She gave me the address to the wake.
The next day flew by fast. Abigail didn’t bother me, and I didn’t bother her, but I let her know I had to go to a funeral, but I never said who. I remained in my room all day. I was depressed. As far as I’m concerned I was the last person she talked to, and it wasn't the best of conversations. I felt like in someway this was my fault. Would she have overdosed if I never drove her into a bigger loss of oneself? All I know is that I will never see her again. We ended so badly and I will never have the chance to apologize, if I ever chose to.
My mother was also on my mind. She was also apart of the reason why Lily passed away. How would my mother feel if she found out about this? Will she blame herself? Or will she not care at all? I wanted to tell her what happened to Lily but I don't think I can bring myself to do it, let alone see her at the moment.
The next morning I wore a black dress. The very same dress I wore to my father’s funeral. I curled my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked the exact same way I did at my father’s funeral. Apart of me felt like it was my father’s funeral all over again.
Once at the funeral home the wake had already began. I sat down in the back away from everyone. This funeral home had a livelier appearance. It had light brown bench rows, filled with Lily’s family, friends; white walls; and blood red carpet. In front of the rows was Lily's casket. It was white with gold trimmings, and open, but I couldn’t see her from where I was sitting. There were flowers surrounding her casket. I saw Lily’s mother stand up. She was wearing a black dress with a matching black jacket and floral hat. Another man stood up. He was noticeably taller than everyone else. He wore a black suit. He had a small mustache and graying thick hair that was tied into a ponytail. They both walked to the podium near Lily's casket.
“Thank you all for coming to the wake. I would like to begin the eulogy.” Lily’s mother said.
She cleared her voice, “Lily was a wonderful woman. When she was young she was the smartest of her class. She loved to read poetry, and was a huge fan of Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou, which of course was the reason behind her passionate way of speaking.”
Maria chuckled.
“A part of her life was wasted when she was on drugs, but due to certain events she fought and won her battle. She committed the rest of her life to help others like her. She loved her works. She has helped so many lost souls, before her soul was lost again to the very thing she battled with years ago. This time she lost the battle, and her life. She will forever be remembered by her works with recovering addicts. I know that today she is gone but one day, in the next life, I will see her again, as Emily Dickinson once said. ‘dying is a wild night and a new road’.”
Lily’s mother was so strong. Not a single tear shed from her eyes, red they may be. Was she even being strong? What if she was content with the way things are. She believes that she will see her child again one day, but I never thought I could see my father again.
After the eulogy everyone stood up and walked to her casket, I was at the end of the line and with each step closer to Lily, my mind raced faster and faster. Could I handle seeing her? I didn’t cry at my father’s funeral, so what made me think I would cry at hers?
Once it was my turn I looked at her with sadness in my eyes. Lily looked as if she was sound asleep. She wore a white and yellow thick sundress, and her hands were positioned as if they were clasping together near her waist. She looked peaceful. I touched her hand. Her skin felt just like my father’s.
I kissed her forehead, “Sleep tight, I know we’ll meet again one day, just like your mother said.”
After the wake we all went to the cemetery. A loving couple, and family member of Lily’s, was kind enough to drive me there.
This cemetery happened to be the same cemetery as my father’s albeit on the other side.
Lily’s mother and father, along with who I assume to be her two brothers and the other two her other relatives were chosen to carry her casket to the plot. Her mother was struggling a bit but nonetheless completed her task.
I watched as Lily’s casket was lowered into the ground, leaving me just like my dad did. I could only believe that Lily was where my father is. Here I was alone. Left with the broken glass all around me, ready to cut my feet if I try to take a step.
I began to cry. My legs became weak, but I managed to keep myself up. I sobbed as hard as I ever did. I bawled and I bawled. Why was I crying so hard? I don’t know, maybe it was because Lily was the last hope I had for my mother and now she’s gone. I just had to let it all out. I cried throughout the rest of the funeral. After the plot was filled with dirt, everyone left. I was one of the last to go as the kind couple wanted to give their condolences to Maria. I decided I should to.
“My condolences, Mrs. Sanchez.” I said.
Maria smiled, “Thank you for coming, Liliana would be glad that you came.”
“I am too, and my condolences to you sir.”
“Thank you.” he said in a gruff and angry voice.
“Horatio!” Maria growled, “Please. Calmate!”
“Why should I be calm?” he shot back, “My daughter is dead! She may not have been my blood, but I raised her! I changed her diaper, I took her to school, I danced with her at the father-daughter dance. and now she’s gone! She was taken away by some damned crack whore!”
“Calmate!” Maria said again. She told her two sons to take him home. He fought for a few minutes before grabbing dirt from the ground and pouring it over his daughter's grave. He began to sing to himself in spanish on the way to his sons car. I know it was a childhood song he sang to Lily. What has my mother done.
“Violet if you don’t mind, I would like to take you home.”
“No problem at all.” I said.
The drive to my home was quiet. I couldn’t speak to her. After her husband’s little rant I was scared to. I would have said something but I knew in someway he was right. I know my mother didn't mean any of this but still…
My conscious was guilty. She deserved to know how everything happened, she needed to know that, that crack whore was my mother.
“Maria, I need to tell you something,” I said, “It’s about that crack whore, your husband was talking about.”
“I know, I know. She is your mother, Liliana and I talked about everything, even the parts where your mother tried to coerce my daughter into doing drugs.”
My head filled with confusion. “You knew?” I said, “Then why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because it’s not your fault. It’s not even your mother’s fault. It was Liliana’s.”
I was astounded by her conclusion. She noticed my look.
“It was her fault. She chose to do drugs again. Your mother may have persuaded her, but she always had a choice. We all have a choice in everything we do, and no matter how small they may be, they will always determine the outcomes of your life.”
“You think so?” I said.
“I know so, look at my husband. We only met because I decided to cross the street earlier along the road than usual on my walk to pick up Liliana from day-care. There we met. If I never chose to cross that street early I may have never met the love of my life. It’s funny how such a small decision changed my life. Horatio also chose to love my Liliana. There is nothing more sweeter that a person loving a child that is not theirs, as if it were theirs. Choices matter and affects everyone, even the people you don’t know. Liliana is gone because of her choice, there is no one to blame.”
“I see.” I said, unsure how to actually respond to her, “no matter what, your choices are your own. You can blame someone all you want but you made the choice, they may have persuaded you, broke you, or forced you but you made the conscious decision to act they way you wanted.” I needed to hear that.
Mrs. Perez continued to talk, “I have been reading Emily Dickinson poems , since Liliana died, and I came across one I like. It reads:”

Superiority to fate is difficult to learn,
‘Tis not conferred by any, but possible to earn.
A pittance at a time, until, to her surprise,
the soul with strict economy subsists til paradise.

“What does it mean?” I asked.
Maria gained a big grin, “I don’t know,” she began to cry a bit, “Liliana knew. She told me one day and it flew passed my mind.” She also began to laugh, “To me it’s a representation of trying to control fate. Trying to make things go your way to better your perception of the world, in order to have your own paradise, when in reality you can’t. You must learn to accept the way things are, and also learn to love, hate, or even tolerate the things in your reality. Accept those and you will hopefully find paradise, and not a false one.”
She stopped the car in front of my house. “It’s been nice talking to you.”
“You too.” I said.
Once inside I saw Abigail. She was sitting on the couch. I wondered what she was doing, it was dark and the TV was off.
“How was the funeral?” Abigail asked.
“It was nice.” I replied.
“Mind if I asked who died?”
Usually I would wreak havoc onto her but I was not in the mood. Right now she was my only comfortability, something not even my mother could give me right now.
“A friend of mine died. She was a life coach for my mother.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Abigail said back.
“Thank you. It was somewhat my mother’s fault but it’s something I can get through.”
“Your mother killed someone?” Abigail said with shock.
“No, no, my mother persuaded her back to drugs and she overdosed.”
“How do you feel, are you ok?” Abigail asked, concerned.
“I don’t know how I feel about this, to be honest.”
“Well if you have any problems, I want you to know you can talk to me.”
I hope she meant that. I remembered Maria’s husband. How he wasn’t Lily’s father. He talked as if he were her father. His emotions were genuine. Maybe that’s how Abigail feels about me, she’s talking to me even after I tried to attack her in the car. Does she consider me her daughter? Even though I’m not? While it’s very possible I can’t forgive her for what she did.
“Can I ask you a question?” Abigail asked.
“Sure.” I said, curious.
“Do you accept my child?”
I remained quite. I couldn't answer that question at the moment. With everything in my head, I know my answer wouldn’t be the right one. I just took a deep breath and went upstairs.
“I can’t answer that.” I said along the way.
I remained in my room the rest of the day, eating little snacks. I heard the knock on the door, signalling food but I wasn't hungry as much as usual, and was content with the little snacks I got from the kitchen. It just sat there until I heard Abigail take it back.