A Parallel Dissonance

Melani:

I'm in front of the casket, tears dripping from the corners of my eyes. He's dead; I can't believe it. Am I dreaming? NO, stupid, you're not dreaming, he is DEAD. He looks so peaceful there, his dark hair resting on that white satin pillow. DEAD. Who is touching me? I whip my head around and see Sandy.

"I'm so sorry, Melanie. He was wonderful. There's nothing anyone can say to make you feel better. I'm here for you." I want to shove her away with her phoniness. It's impossible to wiggle away from her hug because she's so strong. I have to stand and take it. When she releases me, my lungs suck in huge gulps of air. I just want to get out of this creepy funeral parlor. I'm having a panic attack. What made me think a public viewing of the dead Andrew was a good idea? It would have been infinitely better to have buried him and asked people to donate money to some place. What place? What would he have wanted? Not anything I would select, like the Humane Society or Saint Jude's for kids. I wonder how much money I would get by selling his arsenal and that stupid mud-raking jeep. His other vehicles are luxury and worth a lot. His damned double-wide mobile home…and the fifth wheel – well, someone will want them, but I sure as hell don't. I'm not driving the Silverado, dragging that camper behind me, and I will not live in a trailer! Shit, I have to review his will, pronto!

"Melani?" Oh damn, she's speaking to me.

"Yeah, Sandy, sorry—it is so distracting seeing him like this, and I don't have any idea what to do next. I really want to get out of this horrid place, but there's another hour and a half to go."

"Want me to stay?" She is looking at me with hope in her eyes. Hell no, I want to scream. I don't want her sympathy, hugs, or what she thinks is kindly support. "No, it's fine, Sandy, I'll be fine. I have to greet the other guests. Please excuse me. Maybe we can hook up in a few weeks."  I turn my back and walk away, fingers crossed that she skedaddles.

~~

Mel:

"Hello, thank you all for coming today. We all loved Andrew, and today we gather to say goodbye to an adventurous soul who blessed our lives. He was generous, kind, and loving. I will miss him terribly and can't believe he is gone; that we won't have dinners out or shared vacations to exotic places anymore." My manicured nails dig into my palms, and I notice a chip in one, which distracts me. I see stunned, sad faces—men and women; some have brought their children. Why do people bring children to wakes and funerals? Stupid. Andrew knew so many people through his hobbies, volunteer work, and career; the crowd gathered to honor him was expected. He was the president of a statewide hunting group and the vice president of his HOA.

He often shared funny, involved stories about the homeowners in the HOA and behind-the-scenes board discussions. I remember him talking about one owner over on Billings Ave that wanted to install a sidewalk from her back porch to the golf cart path. He chuckled that it wasn't even property they controlled. I thought it was cute, and people seemed to enjoy his stories.

On weekends, we drove from our suburban four-bedroom home to spend weekends at his double-wide on his precious two acres. He spent those mornings cleaning his weapons. His mother and he seemed to get along, but she's a pistol—excuse the pun! I mean, her temper is infamous, and he rarely crossed her. I always stayed silent when she was around, smiling and agreeable.

The police tape is still up while the investigation continues at the crime scene. I'm thankful that the bullets that killed Andrew were 'clean shots,' as his mother put it; the shooter didn't disfigure him. Police said .45 magnum casings were found outside. I'm glad, so the murder didn't stain things with blood. His cherished mother found him —a blessing for me, but not for her. Shocking!

~~

Melani:

My head is pounding, and I'm relieved to be home. What was I thinking about having that viewing for Andrew? It was stressful. His mom was over-the-top helpful. I love her; Naomi has helped me every step of the way. Sometimes I catch her from the corner of my eye, watching me. I guess she is trying to figure out what her son sees in a city girl who doesn't shoot guns or hunt. I make pot roast for dinner to feed his hunting friends. They come back from the woods with their animal kills to the smell of cookies baking in Drew's well-outfitted trailer kitchen. It is gourmet for a mobile home.

~~

Mel:

"Naomi, come in. I will make you a Nespresso. I gave one to Drew to have here at the double-wide. I was just packing up some of the photos to take home." My mother-in-law's signature scent is Beautiful by Estée Lauder. If your olfactory senses work, you can always tell when Naomi has arrived.

"Honey, I have Drew's will. He left the double-wide and land to you."

"Okay, but what about his immense arsenal of weapons? Or, his vehicles? It's all worth a fortune. Some of his trophies are even made of gold and silver. His shoe collection alone is thirty thousand." Naomi looks away from her, her gaze focused on the grassy meadow the trailer sits in. I see where this is going. That bitch convinced him to give it all to her.

"Now, Mel, you don't want the trouble of trying to sell his used shoes, do you, Hon? I was going to tell you about the will, but thought it best to wait a while — until things settled down a bit. I'm so sorry. The good news is that he left you a place to live here in the double-wide on this wide open acreage."

What game is she playing? Then it hits me.

"You. Are. His. Killer." I spat the words at her. "You knew what his will said, and probably went with him to the lawyer to make sure it was in your favor. You murdered your own son. I will tell them everything." She smirks and holds her hands out in a gesture of 'oh well.'

"What is everything, Mel? What do you think you can tell the police? He was tired of your whining and complaining. Drew did all the work. He organized the illegal card games, the militia groups, and the drug and weapon sales. You just sat there, reviewing travel brochures while you had manicures. I taught him everything he knew, but he failed the most important lesson - mother knows best."

I leaped at her, and my face met her brass knuckle fist, knocking me silly.

~~

Melani:

Naomi opened the door to the county sheriff. "May I help you?"

"I need to see Mrs. Kretzer. Is she home?" I hear Naomi welcome him and their footsteps in the entry.

"Mrs. Kretzer?" I nod. "I have a few questions to ask." Naomi holds me as I sob.

~~

Mel:

My head throbs as I slowly come to. Naomi is gone, and I reach for the phone. "Yes, hello, I'd like to report a crime. "

Two days later, I stand statue-still as the sheriff handcuffs my mother-in-law. Do I still call her that when my husband is dead? When she murdered him? She walks calmly out with the officer, and her gaze meets mine through the vehicle's window. When she smiles, I give her the middle finger. She stole what is rightfully mine. Andrew's arsenal of weapons is worth over fifty thousand dollars, and his vehicles, including the Corvette, would total a quarter of a million.

I sit in the courtroom as the prosecutor lays out the evidence of my husband's murder by his mother. Andrew's will is the centerpiece of the trial, along with the .45 magnum gun they located in Naomi's pool house. It matched the casing they found. In the end, Naomi broke and shouted, "Yes, I killed my son. I helped him get everything he had, and that SOB was going to give it all to her."

~~

Melani:

I'm sitting in the courtroom watching Naomi, tears in my eyes. How can they think she killed Andrew? The prosecutor is loudly shouting at her and gesticulating to the jury.

My mouth gapes as I hear Naomi's words: "Yes, I killed my son. I helped him get everything he had, and that SOB was going to give it all to her."

~~

Melani:

The caller ID shows the call is from the prison. I pick it up and hear the recording, but refuse the call. "Here's the baby, Mel." Terrence hands me our baby girl, Janine, to feed, and I settle into the rocker.

"Who just called, Babe?"

"Naomi." I bite my lip.

A gentle smile settles on my husband's lips. "She is never getting out, Melani. You won. We won. Everything reverted to you as his widow, under the 'slayer rule'."

Copyright © 10/24/2025 by Andrea O. Corwin

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