The Wisdom of Evil (4 page)

When that casket was rolled down on
its gurney to the front of the church for the funeral mass, she felt so many things; all the emotions she’d swept aside in order to arrange everything came at her like a tidal wave. One thing Glory hated more than
having
these crippling emotions was
showing
them in public.

She
wept, staring forlornly at that casket, knowing that this was the last time she’d ever see her mother on this earth. The church full of people seemed to disappear as a stunning truth came to her. She realized she had no parents left. She felt like an orphan, was an orphan!

Even though
her relationship with her parents had been tumultuous and difficult, she’d still miss them.
These are the only human beings in our lives that know us from the very start of life,
and when they’re gone, they take a part of us with them.
This reflection saddened her even more
.

During the long Catholic mass, Olivia fidgeted
. Glory always brought M&M candies with her when she brought the kids to church and she filled up Olivia’s small hand with them. The child smiled up at her. Mickey stood somber-faced next to Michael.

Glory felt compelled to look past the casket, past the priest, to the very back wall of the alt
ar itself. Was that a black smudge on the wall? She narrowed her eyes to see clearer and, as she did, the smudge became larger! The smudge, now thick, black smoke, moved steadily away from the wall toward the casket, toward her mother.
What the hell?

She turned to look left and right and to the very back of the church, her eyes wide. Everyone looked somber, some bored with the tediously long mass, but no
one looked
scared!

When she dared to look at the altar, the sinister smoke was gone. Now,
she was on the precarious edge of a full blown panic attack! She knew the telltale signs very well, especially when it was triggered by her Thanatophobia.

“Michael…” she whispered urgently
. “I have to get outta here!”

He gave her a curiously stern look, shaking his head “No, Glory, a few more minutes, babe…just hold on.”

“I…can’t. I have to leave now!” Her voice rose slightly, trying to whisper still, even as an attack was imminent.

“Take some deep breaths. Yah can’t leave now
. It’s your mother’
s
funeral
for God sake!”

Mickey also shot her a look.
“Chill, Mom. It’s almost over.”

Olivia, peering up at her, took her hand in hers and smiled. She was tiny for a nine
-year-old. She shared the same auburn colored hair and dark eyes as Glory, but was more like Michael in temperament. Quiet, soft spoken and very loving; she made Glory forget her anxiety, if even for a moment, by the feel of her small hand in hers.

Glory took a deep breath, daring once more to glance at the altar. Nothing was there, nor was there a black smoke hovering over the casket. She exhaled. Perhaps it
really had been her imagination at work.

As soon as the casket rolled out of the church, Glory was right behind it. She’d held it together but now, she
felt physically ill. She bolted down the stairs where the fellowship hall was, pushed through the bathroom doors, burst open a stall, and threw up.

When she turned, Michael was standing there, his face etched with concern.

“Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re not okay, but…”

“Uh-huh. I feel a little
beddah.”

“The, um, funeral director needs you to sign off on the cremation order. He’s upstairs waitin’
.” Michael looked uncomfortable telling her, hating that she had to sign such a paper. Knowing full well what this was doing to her. The guilt of it, cremation; the small, rectangular marble box they’d chosen would sit unburied at the funeral home until such time as the hard ground of winter could be ready to receive it.

“Are you…mad at me, Michael
? ‘Cause of how I acted up there?”

“Babe, of course I’m not mad. I knew you’d hate yourself later if you’d run out during the service. I did what yah needed me to do. C’mon, wash up
and let’s get this over with.”

S
he signed the paper, looking around for Ted, but he was nowhere to be found.

After the funeral
, she didn’t hear from her brother for many years. His son was still friendly with her children, although, as they grew older, she wished he was not. His son was street smart; Mickey and Olivia were not. Having lived in Maine for years now, they still held some of the innocence of children.

She was relieved that he was out of her life
.

C
hapter 5

For months after her mother’s death, the guilt she felt for cremating her caused not only depression and anxiety, but also took root in her subconscious, manifesting itself in her dreams. The nightmares were even worse than the ones she’d suffered on and off throughout her life, living with her phobia. There, the yawning black hole of the crematorium doors opened wide to receive her. The flames ignited on the bottom grid like the gas burners of a stove. She, walking as if in a trance into them; laying upon the flames, wordlessly, allowing the intense fire to take her. A loud slam as the doors slammed shut and she was alone, burning in a dark chamber, unable to scream. Her trance broken as the flames licked at her hair, igniting it like an evil halo. She kicked at the doors, banged her fists to bloody pulps against the top of the enclosure and…screamed and screamed. Finally, she would wake up, soaked with sweat as if she were burning still, breathing in the cool air as if unable to get enough. She would catapult from the bed, which was still warm and damp from the heat of her flesh. The nightmare was seemingly endless. It got to the point where Glory feared going to sleep. Michael got home around twelve-thirty each night and found her face at the window, waiting for him.

At first, he’d assumed she stayed up late because she was on leave from work
. Usually, she’d be asleep by ten o’clock, waking up only when he got into bed, cuddled up behind her. She would kiss him goodnight, murmuring, “I love you.”

However, by the second week, her last week before returning
to work, his concern had changed to serious worry. She knew he was afraid for her.

“Wan
na have a glass of wine with me?” she asked, eager for him to stay up with her, not wanting to go to bed just then.

“Yeah, sure. How ‘bout I light a fire? We’ll sit on the couch an
’ talk, okay?”

“’Kay
.”

For a few minutes, they watched as the fire caught on the logs and kindling, turning into a cozy blaze. Glory was at once mesmerized by it.
Fire!
What was she thinking, letting him make a fire?

“Put it out, Michael! Please…”

“Glory, you love the fireplace; you always say it’s romantic. I don’t understand what you…”

“
Please, Michael! It’s
burnin
’ me!
Put it out!”
She was near hysterical.

“Okay, okay
! Calm down, I’ll put it out!”

He went out and brought back a bucket of sand and threw it over the fire,
dousing it, although some flames were still visible. Thankfully, the logs hadn’t time to get hot enough to create molten ash. That kind of heat would’ve taken hours to burn itself out.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Sitting side by side, they sipped their wine. Michael put his glass down on the coffee table to put his arm around her, pulling her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. If only they could stay like this, just like this forever.

“You can talk to me, Glory,” he
whispered in her ear. “Tell me what’s goin’ on ‘cause I haven’t got a clue. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s botherin’ you.”

“I’m…scared, Michael.”

“Of what? I’m here; you can tell me anything. I love you,” he said, stroking her hair gently.

She buried her face in
his neck, feeling the stiffness of his shirt collar, the stubbly hair on his chin, the safety his embrace provided.

“Should I be worried, Glory? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I haven’t been sleepin’. The nightmares are incredible. I’m in a crematorium oven, burning, and I can’t get out! It’s awful. I think it’s the guilt, yah know? Maybe we should have listened to Ted. Maybe we shouldn’t have cremated her. I feel like I murdered her by pulling that damn plug and then set her on fire. I keep seeing it…picturing it over and over in my mind, what it was like to be on that crematorium table, to be…turned to nothing but ash and bone. I can’t get past it!”

She wrapped her hands around his neck, feeling his powerful arms holding her close to him. She wept quietly. He gently lifted her chin up with his index finger
and looked into her tear strained face.

“Sshh,
it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He gently kissed her eyelids, her forehead, and her lips. He wiped away her tears with his shirt sleeve.

“Make love to me, Micha
el,” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. “Make it all go away. I need to…feel something good. To feel the way only you can make me feel.”

They were alone in the house, save for Haley. Olivia and Mickey were staying at his
mom’s to let Glory get some much needed rest. Little did she know that Glory would’ve been better off if the kids had stayed; she’d gotten no rest. Just more time to be alone with her thoughts.

He picked her up in and carried her, like a groom carries his bride, la
ying her down on the fully made bed. He kissed her, undressing while he did; only taking his lips away from hers to remove his shirt and pants.

He
removed the t-shirt over her head, her breasts so milky soft, heaving with each breath she took. He put his lips to each of them, sucking gently, coming back to her mouth. He kissed her slowly, leisurely, the bare whisper of a kiss. She lay still, allowing him to seduce her, her eyes closed. Gently, he lay atop her. Both relished this moment, their bodies so close, just before he entered her.

A small sigh of contentment from her, and he was lost. He didn’t ease himself into
her; instead, he gave her all of him at once.

They made love with wild abandonment, like the days before they’d had children, when they’d first met and could barely keep their hands off of one another.

She lifted her hips high and wrapped her legs around him, binding him to her, allowing his entire shaft to be enveloped in her warmth.

“
I love you, Michael,” she whispered “Take me, love me.” And he obliged. Their lips kissed, nipping at each other, as they moved in the beautiful dance of lovemaking. Michael moaned and whispered, “I love you” when he climaxed.

She dug her fingers into his back, and this time, Michael let her make as much noise as she
wanted.

They lay flat out
, arms flayed, sticky with sweat, looking at the ceiling, letting their breathing return to normal.

“
Michael, if I tell yah something really weird, will you think I’m…crazy?”

“Probably not, I already think you’re a
whack job.”

She jerked her head around to look at him
; he was smiling.

“Just kiddin’”

Playfully, she punched him in the arm.

“Ouch! Damn those mosquito bites
.” That was how he referred to her punches.

She laughed
; the sound of it strange and alien after weeks of barely uttering a sentence. Again, she thought of how very fortunate she was to have him. He deserved to know what she was thinking and feeling.

Even though he kept the worst from her and getting him to talk about
his feelings was like pulling teeth, eventually, he’d tell her what was bothering him.

She
, on the other hand, needed to talk things out before her Thanatophobia really took hold and she’d end up with constant panic attacks. Someday, perhaps it would become debilitating, but at her core was the strength she coveted, the ability she’d learned while growing up in her dysfunctional family. She’d never let that happen! Never! Neither would Michael.

“In the church and at the hospital, I saw somethin’
. Did you see anything at all, Michael?”

“Like what?”

“Black smoke or mist with a face in it.”

“No.
Why? Is that what freaked you out at the funeral?”

“Yeah, it was. And there was something evil
and…
personal
about it. I could barely make it out, but I swear, I saw the outline of a face, more like a skull with black holes where the eyes are supposed to be and the faintest appearance of a grin.”

“Sounds like you’re describin’ The Grim
Reaper. If that’s what you saw, no wonder you’re so scared. Between that and the nightmares.”

“You believe me? That I saw it?”

He sighed. “I believe that you believe it. But no, I don’t think it’s real. The Grim Reaper is just a figure that symbolizes death; he doesn’t really exist.”

“You think it’s the
phobia, don’t you?”

“I do.
Your mother just passed away. Why wouldn’t that trigger it? It’s perfectly understandable. But, I think you need to…talk to someone about it.” He was choosing his words carefully.

“I’m talkin’ to you.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not a psychiatrist. I can listen and I’m here for you, but I think…you need more than that.”

“So, you think I’m nuts, then!” Glory sat up in bed, pulling the covers tightly around
her.

“No, I didn’t say that. I just think you should see someone now before it gets any worse. You’re telling me you saw something that no one else saw. That’s
hallucinating
in my book. Your excessive thoughts about death are eventually going to overwhelm you. They have in the past. I’m just…worried about you, Glory.”

“
Then you lied when you said you believed me?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “What I
said
was I believed that you believed you saw it.”

She
knew deep down that Michael was right. What if her obsessive condition and the resulting anxiety—cause and effect, there was no way out of it—affected her abilities as a mother?

“I’m gonna go see your
mom tomorrow. I’ll talk with her. And I’m picking up the kids an’ bringin’ 'em home. I can’t stand being alone all day. You’re sleeping and then you go to work. I have too much time to think. Then, I’m going to work day after tomorrow. I need some normalcy right now.”

“Okay, but are you sure about work? I mean, with the euthanasia cases that come in? Half of your job is counselin’ clients who
’re putting their pets down. Can you handle that?”

“The last psychiatrist I went to said it may help me to see natural deaths
, that I’d face my fears that way.” And besides, I’m good at it. I have no idea why, but I really do help people to come to terms with it.”

She failed to mention that sometimes she’d become fixated on a dead animal. When she’d go in the back and open the huge freezer, where the dead pets were kept before cremation or return to the owners, she’d stare down at the lumps in the dark green bags. She’d place the animal in her care in one of those bags after she’d watched it, as if it would come back to life
. Finally, she would shake her head to clear it, looking left and right to make sure no one ever saw her doing this.

She didn’t have Necrophobia after all, which was the fear of dead things themselves
. She was simply…fascinated by them. That they were still the same creature they’d been before without the movement of the breath of life.

Settling in for the night
, Michael lay on his back, Glory’s head on his chest, his arms securely wrapped around her. He was asleep in minutes. Sex always did that to him. As for her, she lay awake, her mind a swirling cauldron of connected and disconnected thoughts.

Too much analytical thinking
; it was like a curse.

“To analyze is to paralyze
.” She remembered reading that somewhere and found it to be totally true.