A slight shift of his weight caused the false turf beneath his feet to crunch, the sound somehow carrying over the wind. The breeze jostled the flowers, and whipped the tarp overhead in a percussive cadence. Dean Lanza stared at the grave, his twenty-year marriage ended just like the line in the wedding vows,
until death do us part
.
Everyone else had left. In his peripheral vision, he could see the crew waiting to fill the grave impatiently glancing in his direction. Dean remained, thinking he had to demonstrate grief in some way – because he certainly didn't feel it.
Even the sudden, unexpected heart attack hadn't managed to evoke a reaction. Dean couldn't count the number of times he'd heard variations of
she's the last person I'd ever expect to have a heart attack
in the last few days. His wife had been a perfect picture of health, right up until the moment he found her dead at the kitchen table.
He'd approached her on a dare – his friends encouraging him to turn his legendary charm on the gorgeous ice woman who never dated anyone. The challenge had excited him, and he'd found himself trapped in her web.
She'd resisted his stronger advances with remarkable tenacity, never revealing an ounce of lust no matter what he threw at her as they dated. In time, her strength garnered a powerful level of respect within Dean. With that respect came something else –
love
. He proposed, and she accepted.
Though she'd barely moved and made no sound as they had sex – save a whimper of pain as he pierced her maidenhead – it had still excited him more than with any woman before her. He'd attained the unattainable, succeeded where everyone else failed.
A little over a month later, his sex life ended with a positive pregnancy test.
He'd known she was deeply religious, but her refusal to have sex again drove the point home with brutal force. She'd wanted only one child, and sex was only for procreation. He'd remained true to his vows; helping to raise his daughter like any real man would, though his wife allowed him little input into Julia's rearing.
Twenty years. Twenty years of a loveless marriage and a mundane existence. It all ended here, on this expensive chunk of earth atop a hill, marked by a crucifix carved with her maiden name.
Just a few minutes more, to cover up the fact that I just don't care.
****
Julia stood in the distance by the car, watching her father stare at the grave. He stood straight and proud, his broad shoulders square and his strong hands folded behind him.
You can come back now, Daddy. Everyone will believe you were grieving privately.
She knew better. She couldn't summon up tears for her mother any more than her father could. Julia's love for her mother had vanished early on in the nineteen-year religious dictatorship of her life. Even the dress she wore now, concealing every inch of her lithe body and blonde hair, had its roots in her mother's rigid dictation of their lives.
If there's such a place as heaven, and everyone there is like you, I'll take hell, Mother.
As soon as the thought flashed through her mind, Julia felt ashamed. The shame quickly turned to anger, however. Released from her imprisonment in the house to visit college campuses, Julia now understood how much she'd missed of the world outside, despite her church escort's attempts to shield her from sin. Now, she knew just how her mother had brainwashed her – turned her into a little god robot, afraid everything was a sin.
At last, her father turned to walk back toward the car.
You look so handsome, Daddy. You deserved better than Mother. Now you're free.
She wanted to smile at him as he approached, but knew that he wouldn't even see it through the dark veil covering her face. She could almost hear her mother hissing to leave the veil where it was, saying that revealing her face was a temptation to the devil's servants – like the sweaty men now moving toward the grave to fill it.
The sound of her mother's voice in her head sent a flash of white-hot anger flooding through Julia. She reached toward the veil.
You're not here to preach to me or hit me now, Mother.
Years of conditioning stopped her hands, however. With a surge of will, she fought through the intractable discipline forced upon her and flipped the veil over her hat.
She smiled, feeling a completely different warmth spread through her as she defied her mother and thought for herself. The sensation only increased when her father smiled back, his pace quickening. While she had no love for her mother, Julia loved her father dearly.
He embraced her when he reached her, sending a tingle running throughout Julia's body. His powerful arms held her close, making her feel safe and bringing about a slight weakness in her knees.
Julia didn't want him to release her when she felt his arms relax. She closed her own tighter around him, holding him against her for a moment more. Reluctantly, she let him go, the scent of his cologne setting off another race of tingles through her extremities.
"Let's go home, honey," Dean suggested, opening the passenger door.
"Okay, Daddy," she responded, sitting down and pulling the voluminous cloth of her dress out of the way so he could close the door.
****
"Will you be okay, honey?" Dean asked as he straightened his tie, preparing for work the next morning.
"I'll be fine, Daddy," Julia responded, moving to kiss him on the cheek. Biting her lip for a second, she summoned up her courage to ask, "Could I have some money to buy some new clothes? I've always wanted to pick out some things of my own."
Dean closed one eye in concentration as he ran through the finances in his head.
I'll have the check from Marla's life insurance before long. That will pay off the mortgage, both cars, all of the credit cards, and leave a lot left over to invest.
A large chunk of free cash appeared in his mind, the weekly blood money from his paycheck that always went to the church. Not satisfied with ten percent, his wife had always tithed twenty percent of his pay to god. Thinking about the opulence of the church, and how much of that he'd financed over the last two decades, he answered, "I'll put five hundred dollars on your reloadable credit card as soon as I get to work."
Julia's mouth dropped open in surprise. With a squeal of delight, she threw her arms around her father's neck and kissed him hard on the cheek again. "I love you, Daddy!"
Smiling and chuckling, Dean reached for his keys hanging on the wall. Right next to them hung a second set – the keys to his wife's car. Pulling them from the hook instead of his own, he handed them to Julia. "Take the car. It's yours now, honey."
"Thank you so much, Daddy."
"Be careful driving in the city," Dean cautioned, and then kissed Julia on the forehead.
"I will. Have a good day at work."
"You have a good time shopping," Dean responded as he grabbed his keys and walked out the door.
As he drove to work, Dean struggled with how to respond to the inevitable condolences he'd be dealing with for a few days. In the end, he decided to follow the same path he'd taken at the funeral, pretending to deal with his grief privately, while going on with his life in public. A quick glance at the speedometer caused him to start and jerk his foot off the accelerator.
His brow furrowed.
Two miles per hour over the speed limit, and I'm acting like I ran over someone,
he thought angrily. Glancing over at the passenger seat, he thought,
You're not sitting there to nag me any more.
With a smile, he pushed his foot back down. Reaching seventy, he ran with the traffic for the first time in twenty years.
I wish I'd thought to put the top down.
Imagining the wind whipping through his short brown hair, Dean sped down the freeway to work with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time.
****
Julia refreshed the web page, and smiled when she saw the balance change. The sight of over five hundred dollars on her card made her feel giddy. Logging off the website felt like it took forever. As soon as the page closed, she snatched up the keys to her mother's car – her car now – triumphantly.
Julia opened the sunroof before she pulled out of the garage. The wind whipped her long blonde hair as she pulled onto the freeway, driving for the first time without fear of a rigid timetable hanging over her head.
Stepping into the store with plenty of money felt like Christmas to Julia. She didn't even know where to begin. A display of flag-patterned swimwear for Independence Day caught her eye – a skimpy bikini in particular. The first change in her wardrobe now firmly set in her mind, she walked over to the lingerie.
Making a face and popping a package of white cotton granny panties – all her mother had allowed her to wear – with her finger, Julia took one more step and pulled a hanger from the rack. Rubbing her fingers over the satiny material of the red briefs, Julia let out a little sigh of pleasure. Caressing the crotch of the panties translated into a tingle between her legs, anticipation of how good the material would feel against her skin. The panties went into her basket, quickly followed by eight more in varying colors – though none as vibrant as the red.
Sheer, lacy brassieres settled into her basket next. Julia let out a little snort of frustration when she couldn't find a 34c in red to match her new panties.
I'll find one at another store,
she thought, and moved toward a rack of skirts.
Looking down at her skirt, which covered her knees, Julia immediately reached for the shortest one she could find in her size. Holding it up against her body, color flooded Julia's cheeks. She hung the skirt back up, realizing that an errant breeze while wearing it would reveal her to all the world. Selecting one of greater length, she moved around the rack to find more.
