Greg Lilly: Fingering The Family Jewels

"She wanted you to grow up to be-"

"To be her puppet. A wife named Puddin' who's active in the church, children at Charlotte Country Day, me making contacts and climbing my way to the top, and a mansion in Myers Park. That's her dream, not mine."

Valerie shook her head. "No, she's lived that life. She wanted something better for you."

"Well, she should be happy; I have a better life than that. I have loyal friends and a job I love."

"That's what is important." Ruby startled us. She entered the kitchen in her plain black dress, ready for the funeral. "One more thing you need: someone who loves you." Tears welled in her eyes, and she picked up a small colorful porcelain elephant that sat on the corner shelf, next to dog-eared cookbooks. She patted it gently, and set it back in its place.

"Aunt Ruby," Val put her arms around her, "we love you; you aren't alone."

"It's not me I'm worried about." A faint smile trembled on her painted lips as she looked from Valerie to me.

A silence settled over us, heavy and thick.

Walterene's spirit hovered within the house; I sensed it coming from her gardening books, her chair, the pictures of family on the walls, and from Ruby. She stayed strong without Walterene, although I knew that was the hardest thing she had ever done. Walt had been the dominant one, the woman who could talk the car mechanic into a discount, not from argument, but with compliments and listening and winning him over. She beamed with the love and kindness and understanding of each person she encountered. Ruby was the flirtatious one. She batted her eyes and laughed at silly jokes; she cooked and cleaned and shopped, while Walterene gardened, fixed leaky faucets, and debated politics. The combination kept them together; they complemented each other.

Her spirit lingered. I wanted to wrap it around me, to be part of me, absorbed into the man I wanted to become.

A low, dull car horn blew outside, and Valerie checked out the window. "The limousine is here. Let's get to church." She set her coffee mug in the sink and took Ruby's hand to escort her out the door.

MYERS PARK BAPTIST, fairly liberal for a Baptist church in the South, was filled with Charlotte 's finest citizens. The banks were represented by their chairmen, sitting on opposite sides of the aisle like it was Trade Street, Wachovia to the south and Bank of America to the north. The Belk department store family, represented by McKay and his Uncle John, sat just behind Ed Williams from the Charlotte Observer. In the front rows, I saw Mother and Father; Tim, Laura, and their two children sat behind them. Grandma Eleanor sat stone-still between Mother and Vernon. Next to Uncle Vernon was his wife Irene, and finishing out the pew were Mike and Sheila, Margaret and Gerald. Mark should've been with his brother and sister, but I didn't see him. Across the aisle, Walterene's mother, Great-Aunt Ernestine, sat flanked by Edwina and Roscoe on one side and Ruby's brothers, Sam and Odell, on the other. Ernestine cried so hard her thin shoulders shook. Ruby led us toward the seats next to Edwina.

As we approached the altar, I caught Mother's glance. Her head nearly snapped off when she realized it was me. She elbowed Father to get his attention; he smiled when he saw me, but she caught him. Tim and Laura looked, and their kids pointed.

Valerie and I sat down. Ruby crossed past Edwina and Roscoe to hug Ernestine. The old woman's gnarled hands gripped Ruby, and they both trembled under the weight of their tears. The organist started a slow hymn that sounded familiar, but I didn't know the title. I hummed a little to keep my mind off the reason we were there. I couldn't cry in front of these people. "Men don't cry," Mother had always taught us. Ruby sat between me and Valerie, holding each of our hands in her tight cold grip.

The casket sat in front of the altar, and from my position, I could see Walterene's powdered profile. How pale and quiet she looked. Nothing like the fiery, joyous woman she had been. The coffin held nothing more than a shell that had housed Walterene. Our Walterene had dissipated into each of the lives she had touched. I knew she lived in me. Tears blurred my sight. I tried to not blink to keep from knocking them out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

As the pastor droned on, I looked at the family gathered around. Time had turned teenagers into parents, parents into grandparents, grandparents into humbled antiqued souls waiting for their turn before the altar. Old man Ernest's blood seemed to keep his surviving daughters, Grandma Eleanor and Great-Aunt Ernestine, stronger physically than their sisters-in-law. Great-Aunts Rebecca and Louise had both buried their husbands years ago, and I was honestly surprised they were still alive. Ruby's mother Rebecca lived in Sharon Towers under constant care. Today she sat humped in a wheelchair at the end of our pew, staring at a stained glass window. Louise sat behind her children, Edwina and Roscoe, rocking side to side with the music in her head. The only sibling left was Great-Uncle Earl, the youngest of the original children and the only male still alive. He lived in Manhattan and hadn't been seen in years.

My attention came back to the casket because Tim and Vernon 's boys and several others had surrounded it.

There was Mark.

He stood next to his brother Mike and brother-in-law Gerald. He hadn't changed much since I last saw him, still the perfect Harris male. Thirty years old with boyish looks, thick black hair that wouldn't quite stay in place, wide eyes and thin nose; even in his black suit, I could tell he still had the build of a college wide receiver. They flanked the mahogany box that held Walterene's body. The men from the funeral home folded the satin trim inside the casket, and then closed the lid on her. I wanted to rush to it and touch her one last time, to say good-bye, to beg her to come back, to say how sorry I was that I wasn't with her when she died. Tears spilled down my face, and I wiped them away with my sleeve; I would never see her again. The pallbearers lifted the casket with slow movements and carried it down the aisle. We filed out behind it in silence.

The limousines took us to the rolling hills of Sharon Memorial Park. We gathered under a large green tent where I ushered Valerie and Ruby to seats, then returned to stand behind the family. Overly sweet roses, lilies, and lavender surrounded the dark hole where the coffin would be lowered; warmed by the morning sun, they gave off the sickening scent of a spilled bottle of vanilla. A carpet of white roses covered the lacquered box. I watched as honeybees and yellow jackets found the flowers and began their orgy in the arrangements. After more words from the pastor, a bagpiper in full, kilted, Scottish regalia played "Amazing Grace" as the casket was lowered. The family began to disperse, sobbing and dabbing their eyes.

I turned to find Mother standing behind me. Her narrow face held vertical lines from her frown. Red-rimmed eyes stared at me through Liz Claiborne bifocals, and her thin body acted as a hanger for her DKNY suit. She looked so fragile, but so does a scorpion before she strikes.

''You shouldn't have come," Gladys the Bitch said in a harsh whisper.

"I didn't come for you. I'm here because I loved Walterene." I stepped toward her, but she held her ground.

"Fine." She clipped the word. "So you'll be leaving today?"

Was it a question or a command? "No, I plan to stay with Ruby for a while. She needs someone around."

"There's plenty of family here to take care of Ruby." A tight smile appeared. "Derek, go back to California." She turned to walk away, but I moved in front of her, blocking her retreat.

"I am family, and I'll decide how long I stay. Gay or not, you can't control me." I stepped back so she could leave.