Stuck

The doctor said it had only been hours; but my father and I both knew better. I saw no need to rush. The difference two days can make never quite sinking in like it did when I went from telling my mom I love her and I’ll see her soon, to finding her sprawled out on the floor.

I thought I had decades left not minutes. If I had known, I… I wouldn’t have spent the night before snorting coke off my boyfriend’s thumb. Well, ex boyfriend now. Apparently, my mother dying is just too “real.” Fucking asshole.

I unlock my phone in the pocket of my dress to make Taylor Swift’s “The Lakes” drift into the speaker as the service starts to begin. It’s the first time I’ve been home in five years and the pressure of small town gossip is thick in the air, but my hair is parted to hide not only my AirPods but my undercut.

It doesn’t take long for the tightening in my chest to become debilitating. I try the anxiety exercises my therapist provided but the church is too hot, and these clothes are too black. Unable to stop myself, I walk out of the service as my brother, Emmet, is giving our Mom’s eulogy.

My breath is loud and ragged, nearly drowning out “Cardigan” as it takes its turn in becoming part of the soundtrack to the worst day of my life. Once I’m outside I all but rip off my mask before squatting down, head between my knees.

“That shit actually work for you little filly, or you just outta smokes?” His exaggerated accent mixed with his joking tone is exactly what I need to catch my bearings. I reach up and pull the headphones from my ears and place them back in their case before I reply.

“Little bit of both I’d say, Maxxy” I stand out of breath and walk over to him holding my hand out for a cigarette. He places one between my fingers and offers me a light as I bring it to my lips. The Marbello Red fills the little space left in my lungs but once I exhale, I feel the pressure start to lift. “Can you get me out of here?”

Dressed as nice as he gets, in wrangler jeans with no holes, one of his rodeo belt buckles, a black button down and black cowboy hat. Max opens his mouth but before he can say anything the door swings open. The breath gets caught in my chest again, this time having nothing to do with my anxiety. Taylor is standing in front of us pulling out a pack of cigarettes of her own from her clutch at her side. “Don’t you think you should stay, Ellie? We’re not going anywhere. We got you.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I wonder if she remembers the last time we saw each other. If all that can really be forgotten because of what I’m going though.

Taylor has always had a gracious heart, but even I know what I did to her was enough to disappear forever. The tightness in my chest grows as my eyes move over her flowing black summer dress, and long ash blonde hair under a wide brimmed black hat, she looks gorgeous. A genuinely supportive smile plays at the end of her lips as she smokes. A slight blush grows the longer I stare, but I have no idea what to say to her. Thank her for actually showing up? For acting like I didn’t rip her heart out and play hackysack? For just… being Taylor.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we smoke. I can feel Max watching me as if I’m a head of easily spooked cattle, but Taylor, Taylor’s eyes are soft, and concerned, but determined. I know she’s already decided to set our past aside, at least for the next couple hours.

We toss our butts in the outdoor ashtray and I put my headphones back in as we make our way back into the church. We know better than to go back to the front. My father would be livid. So, we take our seats in the back. Max on my right side, Taylor on my left, and we watch stranger after stranger say goodbye to my mom.

After the service Taylor and I ride in Max’s pickup to the community center, where I’ll be subjected to endless halfhearted condolences, not so quiet judgements on my appearance, and force fed tiny finger sandwiches cause “you have to eat something, Ellie.”

It’s just all too much, every part of this has been too fucking much. I just want to go back to the city. To escape this suffocating town. To have my mom back and this could just be a regular visit like it was supposed to be.

Taylor grips my hand, I didn’t realize she took in hers and urges me to go inside the community center. There’s a line leading up to my father and brother. Taylor all but drags me to stand by them, before letting go of my hand and taking a step back and leading Max to the tables to wait for me.

“Nice of you to show up.” My dad mutters so only my brother and I can hear between condolences. I turn the sound up on my headphones as my brother tells my dad to lay off. We don’t speak to each other for the rest of the line. Once we’re finished my father dismisses us and I head back to Taylor and Max.

Max has a huge plate in front of him while Taylor is surrounded by kids sitting cross legged on the side of our table. Perfectly attentive as Taylor reads “Because of WinnDixie.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips as she uses voices for different characters. I feel my brother step up beside me, only taking my eyes from Taylor for a second to greet him with a nod.

He lets out a sigh, “You really fucked that one up, El. I have no idea what we’d do without her, today.”

“I know, Em,” is all I can bring myself to say. He places a hand on my shoulder before going to make the rounds. Taylor made all the calls for my brother after my mom died. We learned a long time ago that my father’s way of coping is avoidance and throwing money at problems. So he paid for everything, and told Emmet how it was “gonna be”, before taking off on a “essential” business trip to Texas.

Not that I’m much better. I couldn’t even get out of bed. I doubt I would’ve even showered if Max wouldn’t have shown up to drag me here. That’s one thing about small towns. When you find your family, they’ll always have your back.

Max has been a constant for as long as I can remember. From Pre-K through college he’s been my best friend. Not that I can say I’ve been much of one to him. Best friend, girlfriend, kid… guess I suck being them all. I clear my throat at the thought and break my stare from Taylor to look at my feet. Yeah… I definity suck. Not entirely sure what else to do, I sit down next to Max as he works on his fourth plate.

I want to leave but I don’t know where to go or what to do after this. What do people do after funerals? Not that this is my first one, just I don’t know how to keep going. To keep living my life. Where I’m going to go or what I’m going to do. The reading of mom’s will isn’t until the end of the week so I have to stay in town at least that long. Long enough to seem normal. But this town. This small, suffocating, fucking town. I feel like it’s eating me alive. The apartment is just as bad. My mom’s own little home away from home. She ran her business out of it. Loft style, with an art gallery underneath. The image of her laying on the floor haunts me everytime I enter but I can’t bring myself to stay in the house.

I tell Max I’ll be right back before leaving the community center. Letting my feet lead me down the street to the apartment. Mindlessly I unlock the door to the gallery and slowly move up the stairs. Flinching as I unlock the door to her apartment. I move quickly through the kitchen to the guest bedroom. Grab my camera bag off the bed and make my way out just as quickly as I entered.

Instead of going back to the community center I turn in the opposite direction towards the cemetery. The miles of trees and headstones look daunting as I approach, but for the first time all day, I feel calm. Slowly, I pull my camera from its bag and place the strap around my neck to let the camera rest at my chest every so often, bringing it up to capture a shot of the leaves blowing in the trees, a crow resting on a statue, the moss growing on the side of a marble mosleim. I walk until I’m at the freshly lane grass of my mom’s grave. The flowers from her funeral now mounted where her headstone will go. I pull my camera up to take a picture of two bees collecting the pollen but before I snap the picture, my hands bring the camera back to my chest, and the bees fly off.

Letting out a sigh, I sit down on the grass. “What am I supposed to do without you?” The silence that follows is hollow. Empty of any reply.

I sit. And I wait. Maybe, just maybe this is a dream, or a really bad trip or…

The sky grows dark, the air cold and I sit. Still and silent. Until Emmet finds me, asleep, huddled against the flowers.

The next morning is just as horrible as the last. I toss and turn until mid afternoon when I force myself to go to the bathroom and drink some water. Eating too big of task to tackle. Unable to force myself any longer I get back in bed. Moving through the apartment in slow motion. Bathroom, hallway, kitchen. hallway, bedroom. Over and over for days, I repeat this path, ignoring phone calls, text, knocks on the door. Emmets stopped by to stock the fridge and make sure I’m alive. We both grew uncomfortable at his wording.

On Friday, Max shows up to take me to the reading of mom’s will where my brother is waiting outside the lawyer’s office. They do this weird sort of hand off with me where my brother places his hand on the small of my back and leads me inside. The music in my ears once again loud enough to drown out the sounds around me. But the office smell is thick, the air is just a bit too warm, and the neckline one my shirt seems to be growing tighter. I reach up to run my hand over the back of my neck as I move it from one side to the other to crack it.

Emmet nods to the secretary before leading me down a hallway to the office our father and mom’s lawyer are waiting in. I take a seat against the wall and turn the volume of the music up.

After a few minutes, Emmet turns and hands me a piece of paper motioning to turn down my music. I do as he asks and listen as the lawyer goes over the first few lines.

“I, Elisebath Evans, residing at 153 E Village Avenue, Fort Dodge, Iowa, declare this to be my Will, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.” The lawyer adjusts her glasses, I look down at the piece of paper as she speaks and read ahead. It goes over funeral expenses and the art currently in mom’s possession that she donated to the Des Moines art center. I read until: “ARTICLE III: Money & Real Estate

I give my residence and all my tangible personal property inside, and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property, to my daughter, Elinor Evans along with a Trust containing $50,000 dollars to be used for basic necessities to be determined by her father, should he survive me, until the time she turns the age of twenty-five.”

I sit up straight immediately. Reaching up and pulling one of my air pods out of my ear. As she starts to confirm what I just read to myself. The opening in my throat rapidly starts to close as my breathing becomes heavy. Emmet immediately turns to tell me it’ll be okay.

“Stop being so melodramatic.” My father says flatly. “You’ll have 500 dollars deposited bi-weekly into your account until then.”

“Her rent is 1,200 alone, dad.” Emmet says through gritted teeth.

My father scoffs. “Her mother just left her her apartment. I see no reason she needs to live elsewhere. I already sent the movers to her place. They should be here by the time you get back to place her things in the apartment and move her mothers to storage until the estate sale.”

“You want her to leave one of the best cities for artists in the country for our hick town? Are you trying to kill her too?”

“Emmet.” My father and I say together.

“No, Ellie.” He grows more angry as he rises to his feet. “Just because you missed your flight doesn’t mean you deserved to be punished, this wasn’t your fault.”

“Then who’s fault was it?” My father’s voice is commanding but level.

The lawyer clears her throat before continuing. We sit in silence for the rest of the reading.

That’s it. I think to myself. I’m stuck.