Prologue: The Funeral

Gathered here… in memory of… the life of… celebrate… mourn…remember…

Adrienne Walton wasn't listening. Perhaps she should have felt guilty for not paying attention to the minister, aged and a little wheezy, who was speaking at her mother's funeral, but the truth was, she didn't feel much of anything. She didn't feel sadness, pain, anger, or the way her spine painfully pinched the skin of her back  against the hard wooden back of her seat in the church pew. She fidgeted in her seat moodily, and stared down at her pale hands. She decidedly did not feel the piercing, pain-clouded stare of her other mother boring into the back of her head. Accusing. Misunderstanding. Scolding. How could Adrienne sit and fidget as an old minister tossed meaningless words around a room?

The minister, for all his tender words of sorrow and remembrance, knew nothing of Nicole Walton. He had seen her every Sunday for over sixteen years, but he had only seen the person she was at church. He had only seen the serenely smiling face of Mrs. Walton: wife, mother, Presbyterian. Soft blond hair pulled back in a respectable braid or bun, white gloves, modest dress. Fit neatly in a box and tied with a ribbon of sin. He had never seen Nicole, 6AM, Friday morning, that same hair a mess of frizz and falling out of its braid. He had never seen Nicky, giggling as her wife burned the spaghetti yet again, and making Adrienne eat it anyway. He'd never seen her cry late at night when she thought no one would hear, never seen her gently wash the blood off the battered face of her daughter's best friend, and never seen her brush a soft kiss across the cheek of a sleeping woman. He had never wanted to. He could speak of sorrowful loss and the hope of eternal life, but his words meant nothing to Adrienne. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her dark eyes turned up to his as if she valued what he had to say. Instead, her eyes narrowed and glowered at a tiny freckle on her hand.

But the minister had stopped talking now, and was stepping down from the raised dais at the front of the sanctuary. He was nodding pleasantly to a frail-looking woman whose face was lined with unshed tears and unspoken wails, and taking a seat. The woman took his place at the front, veined hands trembling as she braced them on the elegantly carved podium before her, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.
The gesture was one of such humility, as though she had been utterly stripped of everything, that for a split second even Adrienne's carefully-barricaded heart felt a flicker of grief so powerful it threatened to overpower and consume her in a sudden wave of tears… No, Adrienne thought, closing her own eyes against the salty tears fighting to overflow. Control. She gathered her bleeding edges back under her, hiding the rawness from sight.

Isabel Walton, Nicole's mother, opened her eyes only a moment before Adrienne, and her pale eyes looked out over the small group of people thinly spread through the church pews. Adrienne couldn't remember having ever seen her look so old. At sixty-four, she was not very elderly, but she had seen enough pain in the past two and a half weeks to age her beyond her years.

The pale eyes, dulled with tears that had yet to spill over, settled on Adrienne's dark ones, and the lines momentarily softened. Isabel swallowed thickly, and said, “If anyone here truly wants to remember Nicole Justyne Walton, just look at the face of her daughter.”

The church filled with sudden, muted rustling as all bodies present shifted so that they could see Adrienne. Her face flushed and she dropped her eyes down to her lap once more. Trust Isabel to say exactly the thing Adrienne dreaded most. Another pale hand, this one not attached to Adrienne's own body, moved into view of her downcast eyes, covering her clenched fists. She glanced up to meet the understanding gaze of her closest friend, Timothy.

Isabel was speaking again. “It's true, you won't see much of Nicole's physical self in her, as they are-” her voice broke, a tiny sob escaping, “as they weren't related by blood. But one couldn't live so long with Nicole without absorbing a little of her into oneself. It has brought me much comfort over the past eighteen days to remember that a little bit of Nicole lives on in all of us. If you, if you truly want to remember Nicole, look at Adrienne, and look into yourself, too. You'll find that she still lives in all of us, as long as we remember.”

Author's Note

The last paragraph is sappy and unsatisfying. Please excuse it.

Reviews

[Sheila Kline]

Oh, I disagree that the last parargrah is sappy, and unsatisfying.....because if we look unto ourselves we do find remnants of another that has become meshed with us!
You held my attention from start to finish, and I am looking forward to reading more of your beautifully told story.
I also like your choice of names for the characters...somehow they fit in with the "Presbyterian" feel of them....and the way you describe the neat hair vs the frizzed, at home look.
Excellent story, and from one so young! My goodness.......look out writers!
Sheila..........
now let me see, which poem of mine for you to review....I will suggest:
~Angels In The Mist~
Thanks for the new group. You have an excellent idea as this is a good way for our writing to get more exposure.
Sheila, A Poetess of Multiplicity

[Jean]

The detail and emotion here was very powerful.
This shows the potential of a real page turner.
It starts out with a plot in the making and has the character already very well developed.
In the last paragraph, Isabel pulls complete attention to Adrienne when she is already unsatisfied with the funeral to begin with. We can tell she's embarrassed. And a feeling of a burden is placed on Adrienne's back. Because now everyone is looking to her to bring Nicole back into their lives, and to help her live on in her. How does Adrienne feel about this? Maybe touch on that slightly, or at least just think about it. This is just the prologue, so I wouldn't go into that and ruin the nice flow that the ending has.
Overall it moves nicely from beginning to end, and it's obvious that you put some work into it.
Well done. :)

[Guardian]

Wow, I must say that was very powerful. Speaking as someone who has lost a mother at a young age (and who also has gay parents) I'd say that you PERFECTLY captured the emotions of the character. I loved it and it was truly, truly powerful. And I'd say the last paragraph was one of the best. It could use some restructuring with the dialogue, but it was great. Although all my questions were answered in the end, I have to say I was confused in the beginning. she's talking about being at her mother's furneral but then she says that she could feel ther mother's gaze boring into her with dissaproval. Of course, now I know what's going on and it makes sense, but I was slighly confused until Isabell started speaking in the end. Truly great, and when I have the time I'll certainly be reading more!