Chapter 1 - A Fitting End
If anyone offered another casserole to go along with their insincere condolences Evangeline was going to lose it.
The insincerity wasn’t even what was triggering her. Frankly, if anyone other than her mother actually felt bad that Arnold Guirer was dead she would expect the sky to start falling next.
Evangeline’s father had been a Grade A abusive husband, abusive father, gambling addict, and an all around douchebag. Anyone that knew him expected him to die young purely for the fact that his greedy fingers slid into the pockets of mobsters. The type of pockets that were always open with a thin layer of money covering up the bear trap at the bottom. Sooner or later the trap would snap shut. If you were lucky, you lost an appendage. If not, it was in the ground with you.
Arnold wasn’t so lucky, neither in gambling or in life. Evangeline was seriously debating if dying was the luckier option considering her father was now debt free down in hell.
By contrast, her mother, Bernadette Guirer, was lapping up the attention. She conducted herself with an acceptable amount of tears which Evangeline was disgusted by as they were genuine. When mourners approached, her mother was gracious and sociable the entire time they dropped their sympathies on them.
Evangeline could not entirely fault her mother for her behavior. If Arnold had been standing beside her, she wouldn’t be allowed to speak unless he granted permission. On the other hand, that sort of oppressive handling should be why her mother’s eyes should have been dry.
That and the fact some of the ‘mourners’ weren’t wishing them well at all. The more innocuous ones handed them both business cards with the suggestion that they call on then at any time. Bernadette was willfully clueless so Evangeline made a point to collect every single one to incinerate them later.
Then there were the bold ones that knew their situation enough to target her and leave her mother oblivious. Two men, thus far, stepped up to her while Bernadette was chatting. They looked her directly in the eyes, seeing plainly the disdain she did not hide.
The first one reiterated the offer to contact them, as if she didn’t get the real meaning the first time. They had lost a fatty fish on their hook and wanted another to quickly replace it.
The second man, with far less decorum than even these slick criminals tried to uphold, approached her. He stepped in close, breaching her personal space to flatly tell her it was a tragedy to leave a young woman orphaned, as if her mother were not standing right beside her.
Needless to say, Evangeline did not take kindly to the threat. The words barely left the man’s mouth before her arm was swinging. Every ounce of her 5’2” frame went into the slap that cracked like thunder in their suburban home. Everyone gathered around nibbling fingers foods went dead silent.
Her mother rushed to make apologies, assuring everyone that all was well. Evangeline kept her eyes on the lanky bastard that threatened her only family as he was passed hand to hand through the crowd right out the front door. At the very least, they were efficient gangsters.
Not long after that incident, Bernadette signaled for a break. Together they stepped out of the murmuring crowd into the quiet kitchen. Her mother’s posture visibly caved once she was out of the public eye. Dutifully, Evangeline rubbed a hand in small circles on her back.
She expected more tears, possibly even some sobbing. Nothing came. Without them, all that remained was a heavy weariness that dragged down the soul of a 54 year old woman still miraculously beautiful after all she had been through.
Despite their animosity, Evangeline genuinely wished that lingering beauty helped her mother move on and marry someone better. She was bred, raised, and learned in her life to be a wife. Anything else would be as traumatic as being abused emotionally and physically for years. She had enough of that over the past 28 years that she more than earned a peaceful twilight.
“There’s a lot of food,” Evangeline said, pointing out the obvious to keep her mother’s thoughts above water for a while longer. It earned a soft laugh.
“It’s comforting and nice of everyone to look out for us, honey,” her mother explained, as if she didn’t know what the point of gifting food at a wake.
At this wake, Evangeline did seriously wonder how much of it could be trusted. Poison was a coward’s weapon of choice, particularly when it came to offing two women that hadn’t done anything but share blood with a gambler. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t put any form of murder past people that dealt in death to maintain their living.
Evangeline shook her head, moved far enough away to lean back on the sink counter, and crossed her arms over the bodice of her black silk dress. “Are you still going to stay with aunt Steph?”
Bernadette nodded, her gaze drifted sadly across her beloved kitchen. The problem was, this was not hers. Had, in fact never belonged to any of them. They had argued bitterly the very day Evangeline came back to help with planning the burial. Forcing a serial denier to look directly at the glue holding her lie together was an Olympic level feat. They achieved it eventually and now her mother couldn’t avoid the fact this whole house was built with dirty money. Not their money; this was a timeshare between every criminal organization Arnold lost money to.
The house had to be given up. It wasn’t safe or affordable even without the crippling debt. Living so close to NYC in a cozy suburb wasn’t cheap for people that didn’t work in lucrative careers. Since her mother didn’t work and Evangeline’s career was in its infant stages, changes had to be made.
Thankfully there was Vermont and the unflappable Aunt Stephanie. Evangeline rarely saw her mother’s sister when she was growing up because Arnold didn’t like her. Steph didn’t like him either and made several attempts to talk her sister into leaving him, to no avail. Now was her chance to help Bernadette the way she always wanted to.
Bonus benefit: it would leave Evangeline free to clean up this epic shit show without worrying about her mother taking up with another monster.
“I’ll need to be at the airport before 4:15,” she confirmed, an edge of uncertainty lingering in her tone. “It isn’t too late to get yourself a ticket. Time away could be good for you. I don’t think you’ve really… taken in what’s happened.”
Bernadette, instinctive and impulsive, turned the placating expression of pleading she had aimed at her father countless times. It was the expression of a woman making herself small and harmless - bowing down before a predator. Having that look aimed at her was a harsh blow to Evangeline’s gut. There weren’t adequate words to fully describe how much she loathed being on the receiving end of those dark glistening eyes; eyes that she had not inherited from her mother. Knowing she had her father’s eyes, in that moment, was an extra kick while she was down.
That look aimed at Evangeline was akin to forcing her to climb into Arnold Guirer’s freshly vacated flesh and the only descriptor for that was ‘filthy’.
Evangeline didn’t move; didn’t breathe. It took every effort to veer away from the deep resentment that bubbled up and analyze why her mother was the way she was. Her mother wasn’t just a victim of abuse, she had accepted it as a way of life. In surviving, she had learned how to manipulate her father in his worst moods.
Now, she sought to use that talent to manipulate her only child into fleeing with her. What grated on her nerves was the fact her mother wasn’t acting out of concern for her. Bernadette just didn’t want to be alone, even for a 2 hour flight.
To compound the mounting tension between them, the long silence Evangeline was holding caused her mother’s deceptively innocent stare to gradually turn to fear. Again, a habitual response. Again, resentment boiled up. This time, Evangeline couldn’t stop it.
“I understand better than you ever will,” she ground out, hating her anger yet feeling it was just. “Considering what I’m doing for you, what I’ve done for you, I hope one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m not the one that needed help. I’m going to walk away now. I’m walking through the house to make sure nobody’s gotten lost so I don’t have to look at you right now. I’m not dad. Don’t you ever treat me that way!”
“Eva!” her mother whined; her voice sounded like a wounded animal. Evangeline wasn’t fooled. This was another manipulation she had her a million times before.
Walking away was the smart thing to do. Bernadette would cool down and so would she. Eventually.
