The Wake

By Peadar Donohoe

The day Regina had been dreading was wearing her out. Two hours on her feet, shaking hands, mumbling thank yous, accepting hugs, pretending to be sad, when all she wanted was to be alone.

Most of the town came for Kevin’s viewing.  The line was out the door of Connolly’s, up the laneway, snaking around main street, all the way to the vape shop. Even the young ones were giving a good show, making the effort with little urging from their parents. 

He had had a good reputation: a handyman who could take his hand to anything and wouldn’t charge you a fortune for it. Unlike the cowboy chancers with half the skills. And hadn’t he been in their homes often enough? Charming them with his advice, gossip and madness for sports. 

But these gawkers knew only his public face. The private face was a very different kettle of fish. The looks of disgust, the perpetual sneering, the constant snapping, the put downs. His need to be right had worn her down years ago. And it was the house that finally broke their relationship. 

The doer-upper they’d bought needed a lot of work to make it a comfortable home. His plans were always trumps while her feng shui ideas were just too daft to be even considered.  No matter how hard she fought her corner, he always had to win. In the end the house became a maze with too many hallways leading to one room or another, cramped spaces and higgledypiggledy storage nooks that we were too low or too high. 

She had vowed to leave him after that. But Marriage for life was what they signed up for and he, the church, the children, the community held her to it. And to be honest, she felt obliged to generations of expectations. Divorce was unheard of in her family. In the end, she surrendered in the battle of their wills. However, the tradeoff came to make apathy her constant companion.

Today however, freedom was near to hand. She was now a widow. W-I-D-O-W. There was comfort in spelling it out over and over, like a mantra.

There would be changes. Demolitions  and refurbishments would put her mark upon the place. The kids might object but what of  it? The house was hers now to do with as she wished and she was eager to start. She just had to play the part of the humble and servile wife one last day.

Still, putting on the mask of grieving took so much effort. She was exhausted. Hardest to stomach were the condolences about what a great man Kevin was, the hard loss it would be for her to bear. She just wanted to laugh.

The lung cancer took it’s time and he did not go easily. Having never faced his fear of death he was in no way ready for the rough journey to oblivion. He raged at the pain, the appointments, the doctors and, of course, herself most of all. 

For over thirty years she had gotten used to his curses but the cancer amplified them: not attentive enough, not fast enough, never made the bed right, slow with the food, not the right food, why was she so ugly, fat and clumsy? A calamity Jane sent to make his life miserable.

Totally Inadequate.

More than once he had driven her to tears. This had surprised her. She thought herself hardened against him long ago but he was pressing her buttons constantly. 

The solution was to let him self-administer the scrips and morphine lollipops. He numbed himself senseless. But when the medication ran out before the renewal dates, he raged in an intensity she had never experienced.

She pleaded with him to go to the hospital but his fear of never making it back home was stronger than his addictions. And why would he go anywhere, when he had a twenty-four hour slave?  The ear plugs she bought at the pharmacist gave some relief but the background noise of his ragings seeped through, making sleep fitful at best.

She floated on a river in a deep, rocky canyon. Her barrel was so large she could stand in it.

Still, even with the rough rumble of water beneath her feet, she was able to keep balance. As if reading her mind, the current picked up, the water becoming wild, tossing her about. Her barrel was knocked into scraggy rocks that dented the strappings and splintered the wood. She pressed her arms against the sides to hold herself in place. Thankfully, the barrel was well-made and held its shape.  I will survive this, she thought. The river read her mind again winding its way to a huge precipice. The miles long drop would surely dash her barrel on the rocks below. The barrel came to the edge, tilted forward and- She woke with a start - out of breath - heart pounding.

She swung out of bed and stood up too quickly. A wave of dizziness struck and would have overwhelmed her except the pile carpet beneath her feet assured her that wherever she was, it was not on in barrel on a river. She held onto the edge of dresser and took a deep breath. Finding her balance, she felt the terror fade but wondered was this a new dream. The house was eerily quiet. 

She tapped the phone on the bedside table. 9:04. She hadn’t been allowed to sleep this late in ages. She listened out for him, her breath quickening in fearful anticipation. Minutes passed slowly. An eternity in suspension. Then, realizing what this must mean, an excitement began to rise within her. She should check in on him to be sure. Instead, she dressed quickly, hurried down the stairs, grabbed her coat and was out the door. 

The day was cold, but the sun shone brightly, like a blessing. She closed her eyes and raised her face to soak in the comfort of its warmth. And then the air. The air! Oh the air! It smelt fresh, green and kind. She inhaled deep, deeper still, over and over until, tears blossoming, she let out a shudder of relief and hugged herself tightly. This was real. This had to be real.

She was real. Alive.

She walked down to the end of the drive but couldn’t decide between left or right. Left would be better, away from town, away from people, away from questions. But barely had she gone ten yards when she spied Dougie, Kevin’s best pal, leaning on his doorway. Sizing her up. 

He raised his cup. Fancy some tea?

She looked at him blankly. Wheels began to spin. Surely, a time of death will be given.

Would Dougie put two and two together? I have to get back to himself, she called out.

Where’d he be without you?

She baby-stepped tentatively into his bedroom, afraid her movement would suddenly wake him. But he lay still. Quiet as a mouse. She giggled. Stop, she told herself. She approached the bed and gasped. Kevin’s face a horror movie mask. Frozen, pale and aghast. What had he seen at the end? Was it God? The devil? Himself? 

She wanted him out of the house ASAP. Her house now. She called Connolly’s. She thought of cleaning him up but could not stomach the thought of wiping his ass one more time.

Connolly’s did an expert job preparing the body, giving him a peace, tranquil look. The only thing she could fault was the makeup. It was overdone, obvious, giving him a feminine look.

He would have absolutely hated that.

After the third hour the cue neared its end and there was Dougie. He clasped her hands, pulling her close and whispered, It was all smiles you were with your man dead. What was that about?

She gave him a ‘what are you on about’ look. Then she squeezed his hands tightly and whispered in return, thank you for coming Dougie. He would have appreciated it. Now feck off.

Dougie’s eyes flashed wide, as if he’d been struck. She stared him down, daring him to say more but then her eldest, Joe, stuck out his hand to thank Dougie for coming.

While Father Mulcahy droned on with the rosary, she dreamt of putting a new stamp on the house: knocking down walls, making it open plan, painting bright and vibrant colours everywhere. Feng shui Heaven. Kevin would be spinning in his grave if he were to have one.

But against his final wishes, he was going straight to the crematorium. 

She had fought with the kids over this. They were most worried about what would people think. No removal, just straight to the crematorium? asked Joe.

If I had my way, there’d be no viewing. Having everyone gawking at me? Gossiping? And then you’re asking me to sit through a removal, funeral and burial? There’s no way on heaven and earth I could stand it.

They pleaded with her but she would not budge. Having finally tasted the air of freedom, there was only so much pretending she was prepared to do.

After the prayers, there was one last viewing for family only. Regina was urged by her children to have one more look, to say a tearful goodbye. She lied that it would break her heart even more to see a man so full of life laid out like that. They persisted. She cried tears of frustration. Mistaking the tears for sorrow, they relented. 

The children gathered round the casket, gazing at the man who dominated their lives for so long. She wondered what was going through their minds. For years they too had put on brave faces to the world, hiding the strain of their unhappy homelife from friends, schoolmates, everyone. 

Joe had buried the past, telling himself the vicious beatings were a rite of passage. But she knew Liam had never forgotten. He had recounted incidents to her in vivid detail. The girls had skeletons in the closet too but, like Joe, they pretended their childhood was normal. They needed to get on with their lives. 

Regina’s guilt for her part in this was hard to bear. She should have protected them more. But she too was afraid of the man of the house. 

Regina made a brief showing at the pub. One last showing for appearances sake. Liam, having downed three double whiskies in quick succession, was well on his way to oblivion. She would need to talk to him. Let him know he was not alone. Making grief as her excuse, she left the children to commiserate. 

Dougie caught her going out the door and insisted on giving her a lift. Better to get this over with she thought. 

They drove in silence until they arrived at the house. How long? Dougie asked, I don’t know. During the night I suppose.

So, there was no one with him when he, you know?

Dougie, he wouldn’t have wanted me there.

Dougie had been a frequent visitor to the house and some clue about her relationship with Kevin. Just someone to hold his hand even?

He absolutely hated me Dougie. What would you have wanted me do? Stay by his deathbed and suffer whatever abuse he had left in him? Thank you for the lift.

When she entered the house. She kept the lights off. In the dark she found her way to his recliner and put her feet up. She never had she been allowed on it before. The throne from which he ruled his castle. 

She became aware of a tight knot in her tummy. She put her hands on it and directed her breath to it until the hardness began to dissolve, giving way to tears of relief, anger, remorse and finally a sense of peace. 

She reminded herself again, she was a widow. W-I-D-O-W. As before taking renewed comfort in the repetition.

Moving lights flashed upon the window panes. Cars were pulling into the driveway. The children were being dropped off. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was after midnight. Hours had gone by like minutes. The knot began to tighten in her belly again. What would they think of her plans for changing his house? Would they be against it? Against her?

Would she have to fight her corner? Familiar patterns began resurrecting themselves. 

She remembered to breathe. 

Then it came in a sudden flash. The house was not the issue. She was. Ready to fight over petty things with her children. Did it really matter?

To live with some happiness she would have to let go of who she thought she was. 

She remembered to breathe.