Love Will Save The Day
They had Christians service on a rainy afternoon. He was forty one when he died, I am sixty three, and a woman of my age should never have to bury her child, much more of this and my heart just might give out. Christian of course wasn’t all good himself, he wasn’t home much do to his job, so his children are naturally more attached to their mother Jena, I don’t blame them for their lack of judgment in character, being the adolescents they are. The oldest Cameron stood at her fathers funeral as if in a daze, she wore a blue calf length dress with beads along the top. She looked beautiful, and resembled her father completely. Her eyes were crystal clear and a piercing blue, her nose was a bit broad for her face but her cheek bones were high and her hair was a dark red that went naturally with her fair skin. She was simple and elegant for her young age of twelve and already wise beyond her years. My grandson Joseph is a little rambunctious, he is only eight, and he explores everything. He resembles my son as well, but only in the ways boys always seem to resemble their fathers. Truthfully his hair is darker like Jena’s and will continue to darken. His eyes are blue, but pale and his skin is always tan from his outdoor adventures. He stood next to his fathers grave and sobbed as I handed him tissue after tissue.
My name is Isabelle, but the people I’m closest to call me Belle. My hair is grey but used to be as red as my sons and my granddaughters, and my eyes are the same piercing blue. My skin is wrinkled and pale, but I don’t stand like older women do. I keep my back straight and my face solid. I do not let my cheeks bag around my face and I do not let my weight get out of control. I am healthy and strong on the outside. My legs are always shaved and my hair is always fixed. I am not a granny from the country, I am a grandmother and a lady. I pride myself on it. At my sons funeral I wore a black satin blouse and a black knee length skirt. I wore a black onyx ring and a black hat with a short black veil. It was completely appropriate. I did not cry except for in my car and in the comfort and seclusion of my own home. My husband died several years ago from an unexpected heart attack, I did not cry at his funeral either, nor in my car or my home. He was completely ungrateful.
My daughter in law Jena is beautiful in every sense, on the outside. Her hair is dark brown that you could mistake for black if it weren’t for the slight tint of red. And her complexion darkens dramatically in the summer, and makes her pale blue eyes stand out even more. Her beauty I could not deny, but her innocence I had known all along was non existent. She was one of those women that would fake ignorance to please a man. I never understood Christians fascination with Jena but they certainly portrayed the perfect couple, then the children came and bounded him to her even more so than his marriage vows. The picture perfect family could have fooled anyone, but it was me that Christians confided in when things with him and Jena went sour and it was me that could see through that precious white smile.
After the funeral, due to Jena’s lack of planning there was no dinner, so we went back to her house, and everyone that came to pay their respects went back to their homes. I couldn’t help but ask Jena why she hadn’t at least prepared something for the closer family members.
“Jena, don’t you think a dinner would have been nice after the funeral.”
This seemed to surprise her, as if I were in the wrong.
“No Belle, I don’t think anything would be nice now, I miss my husband so much already, I‘d like to just grieve, could you watch the kids for awhile, I need to try to get some sleep, I haven‘t slept at all since the day it happened.”
If she loved Christian as much as she claimed she could have at least made the effort to show it. I was finished with her rude attitude, she never showed any respect for me either.
“Isabelle, please dear, not Belle, and of course I‘ll watch the children, go catch up on your beauty sleep.”
With that she shrugged and walked upstairs to the bedroom that was now only hers.
Cameron stayed in her bed under her blankets that evening and Joey sat staring blankly in the family room at a cartoon I knew he didn’t even like. So I cleaned the house, I scrubbed sinks and toilets, I mopped and swept the floors, I even dusted all the furniture. That’s when Jena came downstairs.
“Belle, what in the hell are you doing?”
What in the hell was she thinking speaking to me so inappropriately?
“Excuse me? I‘m doing you a favor in cleaning this house.”
That’s when she decided to step just a few inches from my face, so close that our feet were almost touching.
“You always seem to be cleaning something, making something perfect, can‘t you leave anything alone? Why don’t you try being a normal person and grieving for the son you lost, or are you really as heartless as you seem? I tolerate a lot from you Belle and when I ask for a simple favor while I try to sleep, what do you do? You insult me by cleaning my own home.”
How dare she actually voice this, the things that I always knew about Jena, her true colors were being revealed, even more quickly than I had expected.
“I cleaned this house as a favor and because you‘re a lazy bitch, I wouldn’t have to scrub your toilets if you were awake to do it yourself.”
Then I stepped closer and our feet were touching, I was so angry my body radiated heat, and I could feel my neck redden. Jena was so angry I would’ve sworn her eyes were almost glowing. I knew at that moment that I truly hated that woman. Whatever happiness I may have thought she provided to my son before didn’t matter anymore, he was gone and I was left with her.
“I wasn’t sleeping, I was crying, I cant sleep, if you don’t want to watch my kids then don’t, but don’t clean my house while you‘re here.”
We both took a step back and let ourselves calm down.
“I will watch the children anytime you need me and if you cant accept my kindness, I won‘t be so willing to hand it out, but I am sorry if I offended you. Maybe you should talk to a doctor about these sleepless nights, you need to be able to get yourself back on track now.”
She breathed in deep and turned away to walk down the hall.
“I‘ll be sure to soon enough, I‘m sorry about this Belle.”
Then I smiled and touched her shoulder ever so gently.
“Please dear, it‘s Isabelle.”
Then I kissed the children goodbye and walked myself out. It was a short drive to my house only three blocks from theirs. My home was surrounded by a traditional white picket fence that boys in the neighborhood painted every few years. My home was two stories and red brick with black shudders. The window frames were white and the door was black as well. It was simple and old, it had character and cement steps that came off the cement porch. I loved my house and I freshly decorated it probably too often, but I took pride in a clean tidy house, with modern décor. I never let my sofas sag and my drapes were never dusty or outdated. I love my home. If only I had others to share it with. Not to say I miss my husband, I truly don’t, I don’t miss any man, their need for sex I have always found disgusting especially now at my age. But I miss my son, I missed him before he died. I live three blocks away from my family but Jena’s sister that lives three hours away sees the children more and when I seen Christian, he usually came alone. I don’t mean to be bitter or cold, but I know my strengths and I do not expose my weaknesses, that’s not bitter or cold, that’s smart and I know my grandchildren love me.
I didn’t drive over to their home, for several days after mine and Jena’s spat, but I wanted to see how my grandchildren were doing, so I went over five days after the funeral, that was long enough of a wait to see my family again and I had, had enough of grieving.
I knocked on the door and got no answer, so I knocked again and waited several minutes. I knew Jena was home because her minivan was parked in the driveway. I had my key, so I let myself in, I found Cameron in her room still in her bedroom under her blankets. So I walked into her room and sat on the edge of her bed.
“How are you baby?”
She rolled over and looked up at me with tears welling in her eyes.
“I just miss him a lot grandma, I don’t know what to do without him.”
I laid down next to her and brushed back her hair as she cried over her deceased father. There was nothing I could say that would help, I could only lay with her and help her. This wasn’t my place, her mother should have been the one laying next to her. As much as I may hate Jena, it was her place as a mother to comfort her grieving daughter. When her tears had stopped I wiped her cheeks and kissed her forehead.
“Cameron, where is your mother?”
She looked at me with that preteen look and rolled her eyes.
“She never slept before, now she sleeps all the time, she got a prescription for sleeping pills and takes stuff from over the counter too, I’m sure she’s passed out in her room now.”
Words could not describe how much I hated Jena. She neglects her children and sleeps her days away, I suggested something to aid her in her time of crisis, I did not suggest her abusing sleeping medicine and leaving my grandchildren to fend for themselves.
“Where‘s Joey?”
“I‘m sure he‘s in that tree house dad built him, that’s where he always is anymore.”
First I walked to Jena’s bedroom where she was sprawled across the bed, sleeping ever so peacefully, then I went to the backyard and found Joseph screeching and slamming toy cars together in his tree house with paper lanterns and crayon drawing hung on the walls. I asked him to come inside while his mother was sleeping and I waited with the children until ten o’clock that night when Jena finally came out of her slumber. She came bumbling down the stairs in nothing but black panties, a Ramones T-shirt and her pink silk robe.
“Oh Belle! When did you get here?”
I stood up from my chair at the kitchen table and walked towards her.
“I‘ve been here for the last five hours that you‘ve been sleeping, keeping an eye on the children you should have been watching.”
“Oh, I told Cameron to watch Joey while I caught up on my sleep, you know I haven‘t been sleeping much lately.”
I was as angry now as I had been 5 nights ago, I walked closer to let her know I wasn’t finished with this.
“It‘s time for Joseph to be in bed, Cameron went to sleep an hour ago. Jena, don’t you dare let this happen again, who knows how often this has been happening, you are irresponsible and its time you start being a mother,”
She interrupted me, repeating my name.
“Belle, its nothing, Belle, Belle.”
I stepped close enough that I could smell her breath.
“Don’t let it happen again Jena, don’t you dare let it happen again. And my name is Isabelle, Belle is for the people I like.”
Then she threw her arms in the air as if she were so surprised at how I was acting.
“I‘m your daughter in law for Christ sake.”
I gritted my teeth and spat the words I spoke.
“You‘re not a damn thing to me, rot in hell for all I care.”
I walked away to keep from slapping her, even though that’s exactly what she deserved. I would’ve slammed the front door, but I didn’t want to wake Cameron and I wasn’t a teenager throwing a fit, I was a lady and I would end this like a lady.
I wept that night, not for my son, I had finished my grieving for him. Tonight I wept for my grandchildren, they were too good for such an ungrateful mother. If I hate anything, it is undoubtedly ungrateful people. Children bring too much happiness to be so thoughtlessly neglected. I may be old, but I could give them so much more than they could ever get from her.
It had been three days since our last encounter when my phone rang. The caller ID still read Christian Humphrey.
“Hello?”
“Grandma, its Cam, can you come over? Now.”
I could hear the worry in her voice.
“I‘m on my way.”
I was in my car and on my way as soon as I hung up the phone. When I got there everything seemed the same, the minivan was parked in the same place and the door was locked again, this time however Cameron answered.
“Grandma, its Joey, he fell off the ladder.”
She was crying and rushing me to the back yard through the dining room. There sat my Joey crying his eyes out on the ground with the bone in his wrist sticking out of his skin. Blood stained his yellow t shirt and covered his arm, the white bone seemed to shine from the bottom of his palm. I rushed over as he let out another scream. Tears rolled from his face and screams rushed over and over. I picked him up as gently as I could and ran us to the kitchen. I wrapped his wrist in a dish towel, and he let out another scream.
“Where the hell is Jena?”
I screamed the words as fiercely as Joseph was screaming, but Cameron calmly answered what I already knew.
“She‘s still in bed.”
I picked up my grandson and ran for my car yelling for Cameron to come along. She helped try to calm her brother in the backseat whispering that everything would be fine and promising that the hospital was right around the next corner. I was so proud of her in that moment. When we arrived at the hospital they had the nerve to keep my grandson waiting. Finally they took him back to a doctor and I filled out forms as they x-rayed his injury. It didn’t feel like hours, it felt like years, that I waited on them to bring him back to me. When he finally came out he let out a little whisper, so light that I had to bend down to hear him.
“They gave me an orange cast Grandma.”
When he said that, I knew he would be fine, the doctors explained his prescription for pain medicine and we were back on our way. He seemed to be feeling much better, even though he was cranky the entire way back. I took the children to my home and sent Cameron to stay with the friends throwing a slumber party to help her since her father had passed. She was a great girl, with very good friends, and she deserved a good mother. Later that evening Joseph had drifted into a deep sleep from his pain medicine and the trauma he experienced early in the evening. I knew he would be asleep until the next morning so I left.
It may seem hypocritical for me to leave him while he sleeps, but I have business to finish and I’m not leaving him while he’s awake, to be hurt, again.
I drove to the end of Jena’s street and walked to the house I knew was still unlocked. When I stepped in I put on the yellow cleaning gloves I had brought with me and locked the doors. Then I put on a pot of tea and walked to the upstairs bathroom. I found Jena in bed, but not as fast asleep as she had been when we left, she had obviously been awake to use the facilities from what I could see in the toilet and went back to sleep without realizing both her children were gone. I took the bottle of sleeping pills and placed them in her hand at first and squeezed her fingers around the lid. I went back downstairs to the kitchen and placed the 12 remaining sleeping pills in the bottom of a coffee cup and poured Jena her tea. When I went up stairs I slammed the door to her bedroom and she twitched in her sleep. I shook her and when she finally woke I told her what had happened but she needn’t to worry the children were safe. She drank her tea and I told her to go back to sleep and the children would be back in the morning. She closed her eyes and I admired her room. Jena too had good taste in interior design, she had a beautiful antique armoire and a trunk at the foot of her sleigh bed. Every piece of furniture was dark cherry and stunningly smooth, but the best part about the master bedroom was the French doors that led to a balcony outside that looked over the side of the house. They had a basketball court in the back and a fence separating the backyard from the front. Half an hour later I walked over to Jena and slapped her across the face. Not a twitch. So I put on my shower cap to keep my hair off of her and dragged her from the bed. Her head hit the carpet with a thud and she still didn’t move. When I had her on the balcony I pulled her up by her shoulders and rested her back against the metal rail. She mumbled something and I pulled back her hair and whispered the last words Jena Humphrey would ever hear.
“It‘s a shame to ruin such a pretty face.”
Then I pushed her hard and she fell over the balcony smashing against the concrete pad that was the floor to my son and grandsons basketball court. The blood came sooner than I expected and pooled around her head. She was still wearing that pink robe and the scene was absolutely heart wrenching. The depressed widow and guilty mother that had committed suicide by jumping from her bedroom balcony after attempting to overdose on her sleeping medicine. It truly was a tragedy… to ruin that pretty face.
