MERRILEE'S VICTORY

MERRILEE’S VICTORY

My hand trembled when I dialed the phone.

“Joan, this is Amanda. Would you go to the funeral home with me? A friend died. I don’t want to go alone.”

“I guess I can. What time is the visitation?” Joan asked.

“I’m not going at that time. I just want to go by and see her. I know this sounds weird, but I just want to see her, not the family. Can you be ready in two hours?”

“Sure. You pick me up?”

“Two hours. I’ll be there.” I said. I dressed in my good suit and pumps and put on my Clinique. Merrilee would expect me to wear makeup.

“Joan, I am so glad you could go. And you dressed right, too. I forgot to tell you it is at the Stanford Funeral Home, old money, old power. They might not let us in if we weren’t dressed right.” Joan was the kind of classic blond that looks good in black: sleek body, long legs, and flawless skin. I’ve heard that a woman should pick friends that make her look better. I missed on this one.

“Who do you know that has that kind of prestige in Davenport?”

“Get in. I’ll tell you about it. Her name is Marrilee Concord, but her father was Martin Carver. He was the old money. He developed the Carver Court area and built the Brigadier Building. She still owned it. I guess it will go to the children though not many of them have the sense to manage it. You’ve seen something about it in the paper, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I knew she died. Sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Merrilee was my best friend. If you read the story in the paper you know some of the basics. I can say that stuffy article was not her--she was a lot of fun when we were young wives and mothers. The picture in the paper was from several years ago. She had begun to really look her age even when she went to the beauty shop. It takes more than Miss Clariol to cover some problems. She had seen her father and her husband through their final illnesses. Back then she had that sort of healthy, athletic, good looks. Not glamorous, but nice.

“We used to go shopping together, and we always ate lunch at Luby’s. It was wonderful to have the kids in school and act like we had the money to afford to shop at Foley‘s.

“Oh, she didn’t have money then. Her husband was Burrell Concord. Her father didn’t like Burrell so he never helped them, but he had lots of money. Merrilee was still close to her father and saw him a lot. She and his second wife had a sort of armed truce. I’m not sure why her father never gave her money when they were really struggling..

“Burrell was really good looking in that rugged sort of way. He was a foreman at that big automotive shop on North Masters Street. He had been a mechanic for a long time and finally made it into that level of management, but he never got into the front office. He had been raised in the country, and his family was honest but poor. You know the kind, smart enough but not much ambition.

“That was at least thirty years ago. I called us young wives and mothers--I was being vain. We were already in our thirties, late thirties. But we held on to the “young“ definition as long as we could. She was two or three years older than me, but her youngest child was younger than mine, so it sort of evened out. We were both Christians, but we never went to church together. Our children didn’t even attend the same schools most of the time. We got reacquainted at a Bible study downtown at a church neither of us attended. We didn’t do many of the same activities other than that. Our friendship was really about just liking each other, not about common interests.

“We’re here. Where should I park? I guess in front is O.K.” I stopped the car, but I couldn’t get out.

“Calm down, Amanda. There won’t be anybody here; it’s 2:30 in the afternoon. I went back and looked up the obit in the paper. The visitation is tonight.”

“Yes, I know. I just don’t want to talk to anybody. I don’t even know who would be here. I don’t know where anyone lives now except Richard. Richard was the youngest child. He was sort of a brat; spoiled and selfish, I thought. He was the apple of her eye, though. She had three children, a trial, every one.”

“We have to get out, Amanda. Do you want to go in or not?” Joan could take charge.

“Yes, of course, I do. I just know she would hate this. She used to tell me to have a party when she died. She didn’t think it would be worth getting all those people together if they couldn’t have a good time. Why do they always make these places so forbidding? I would think they’d try to make people comfortable.”

“To most people this is comfortable, Amanda. You are not supposed to take off your shoes and play with the cat, but it is a nice room. Formal, I guess; oh, I give up.”

“You know, you sound a little like her, Joan. That’s what she would have said.”

“May I help you ladies?” A thin woman of an indeterminate age in a gray suit greeted us.

“Yes, where is Merrilee Concord?”

“Oh, follow me. Mrs. Concord will be in Haven of Peace. It’s one of our larger rooms. We thought there would be a lot of visitors. She was loved by many people. And you are just in time to see the children…” We followed her down a long hall.

“No. I just want to see Merrilee. That’s why I came in the afternoon.”

“Shhh. They are right behind you. They wanted to make sure everything was right before the official visitation.” Her hushed tones became conspiratorial.

“I don’t want to intrude on them. Can we go somewhere else?” Three people were standing in the door dressed in jeans and shorts.

“I’m afraid not. This is the end of the hall. Would you care to sign the book?”

“Yes, of course. Joan, help me here. Are they coming?” The thin lady went to the office.

“They are going in the office. Step in the room. At least we won’t look like we’re trying to get over the wall. Here’s the pen; sign already.”

“There is no casket in here.” I began to search for her name on the book or the sign by the door. There it was. “They must be waiting for the family before they bring her in. Oh, my gosh. What a mess. I really didn’t want to see them. Here they come.”

“Hello Miss Amanda. You’re looking good.” “Miss” was a sort of a symbolic title of respect Merrilee had insisted on for close friends--a Southern tradition.

“Thank you, Bobby. Bobby I want you to meet my friend Joan Acres. Joan, this is Robert Concord. He is, was Merrilee’s oldest son. And this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my friend Joan. Richard, so good to see you. I’m so embarrassed to intrude like this.”

“Intrude? Why,Miss Amanda, Mother would expect you to.” Richard winked and put his arm around me. He was truly gracious to me, and I had always thought he was the little snot.

“Just call me Shell,” Rachel said to Joan. She was tall and lacked grace in her movements, but she was good natured. I always wished she didn’t talk so loudly, and here in this place her booming greeting seemed particularly inappropriate.

“Joan, this is Rachel, Shell, as she said, and this is Richard. He likes to be called Rich. He says it reinforces his ambition.”

We moved to the couch in the austere room. Two men in black suits pushed the casket to the appointed spot. They placed flowers, turned on the lights, and opened the lid. Their perennial half-smile made them almost human as they disappeared quietly. Rachel went to the casket with Robert. They stood for a moment.

“I wonder if they could blend that makeup a little better. It looks sort of gloppy. But the dress is nice.” She seemed at a loss in silence and filled it with dumb observations. Robert said nothing and turned away abruptly.

Richard offered me his hand. I shook my head, and he sat down beside me settling into the comfort of the cushions.

“You go ahead if you want to. I’m all right. I’ll go in a minute.” I almost turned to Joan, but he held my hand.

“I want to tell you how much you meant to her. She considered you her best friend. She commissioned me to tell you that. And there is also a box I am to give you. She never told me what was in it, and I have never looked. I will bring it by the house later. I don’t think now is the time.” He rose still holding my hand and, this time, lifted me from the couch in such a gracious movement I didn’t notice that I was up. With his arm around my shoulders, we moved to the casket. Tears began to flow. There was nothing to say. The memories flooded my mind and ran down my face. It seemed a long time that I stared and remembered.

“I’ve got to change clothes, Bobby. I didn’t mean to see anybody dressed like this. Take me to the hotel. Rich has his car.” Rachel’s voice was strident and shrill from somewhere in the hall. I realized the tears had stopped, and I was ready to go now, too. Richard moved with me to the door.

“It was good to see all of you. I don’t know if I can come back tonight. David is not very well. The funeral is at 2:00 tomorrow?” I tried to make my excuses for not coming back sound reasonable. I couldn’t stand this for very long.

“Yes. You will sit with us, of course. And come back to the house afterwards.” Richard said it as if it were already settled. I nodded.

Rachel and Robert said something I didn’t quite hear, and I nodded again hoping for fresh air and sunshine as I grasped the door knob.

“Joan, let’s get something to drink, a Coke, tea, anything. You drive.”

“How about the Tea Garden? We can sit outside. I did know her, you know. She was in my Sunday school class. We weren‘t real close or anything, but I liked her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you know the kids?” I felt like a real klutz. I had completely ignored Joan and treated her like so much baggage.

“Not really. She had mentioned them in discussions and asked for prayer. But I want you to continue your story. I want to know all about her.”

* * *

“We want a pot of hot tea, Earl Grey if you have it. We will sit on the patio.” Joan took command.

“Thanks. I didn’t think it would be that bad. But we were friends for a long time and through a lot of ups and downs. I remembered so much when I looked at her. She looked peaceful.” The tea came and the waitress left. “Why did I say that. Peaceful. Dumb thing to say. She looked dead. She never looked dead. You know how she looked? Alive I mean? She looked like something big was happening. She looked like she would make something happen if it didn’t by itself. Oh, I’m going to cry again.”

“Drink your tea.”

“Yes, my tea. She hated tea. I always offered her some and she always put ice in it. She never liked hot drinks.

“ ‘I drink it at football games to keep my hands warm,’ she said.

“We were in high school together, but we barely knew each other. She met Burrell while she was in college. He was working and going to a trade school. He was a very good mechanic, especially on the foreign makes and the really high priced cars. Of course, that was good money. But he still had grease on his hands and listened to Country music. She played Mozart on the piano and was presented at the cotillion. They were married here in Davenport, but the wedding was not very prestigious. His family didn’t contribute the groom’s share of things. You know how it is when it’s one sided like that.

“They didn’t move back for a while. He couldn’t find a job here because of poor sales in those expensive cars for, maybe ten years. She was an accountant and a good one. She did quite a bit of work in investments and corporate financing. I think she made more money than him, but she avoided talking about it. She had the two older kids early and close together.

“ ‘Burrell believed in keeping his wife barefoot and pregnant, but I put a stop to that.’ she quipped once.

Rich, the youngest, was less than a year old when they moved back. He was about seven or eight years younger than the others, maybe more. I can’t remember. She didn’t work for a while. That was when we began to get close. I told you about us going to the same Bible study. We were only in the same discussion group for one year, but we bonded. Still we didn’t see each other often. After Rich was older, 10 or 11, she did work again part time.

David and I had married about the same time she and Burrell did. I was teaching school and David was traveling for Wentworth Publishing. I didn’t even miss a year in school to have my three kids. He had to go to Dallas or Atlanta or some mall in some backwater town in South Carolina or Kansas all the time. They didn’t care where he lived as long as he went where they sent him. I was sort of a part time widow. For a while, I thought it was good that he was gone so much. We were so intense we couldn’t stand each other long. Merrilee and Burrell were never like that. She was funny and smart, but she was still tied to his needs. At first, she wouldn’t even eat lunch after Bible study in the morning. She had to get back home.

“Merrilee, you are a different person when you get out of your house. When you’re in that house, you lose who you are,” I told her one day. It was true. She became smaller and hunched, and her face drained when she went inside. She was so smart and full of life--it wasn’t fair that she should lose all that to be a drudge. I told her so.”

“That is the vanity God is trying to rid me of,” she said.

“Vanity? What are you talking about? You don’t even express yourself! I don’t think Burrell even knows you.”

“Amanda,” she said, “I see how you and David talk and say things honestly, and sometimes even fight. I don’t think we could do that. I think I would hurt him more than he could stand. And I couldn’t stand that.”

“But this isn’t an honest relationship. How do you live with it?”

“ ‘I told myself I loved him. I guess I didn’t have much self-esteem or confidence or whatever you call it. I didn’t think I could live alone. Anyway, I agreed with myself to be whatever he wanted. He wants a housewife that takes care of children, cooks, shops and does laundry. I do that. And he loves me, now.’ She was sure of herself, but that undercurrent of skill and intelligence didn’t quite fit the parameters. She was like a pot of soup that boiled over now and then.


“Her older kids were in high school when things began going sour. All three of mine had a medical problem, and we spent lots of time at the doctor’s offices and hospitals--asthma, allergies, sports injuries. Robert was smoking pot and drinking before she knew it. When she found out, they did all they could to control him. He was really smart but cocky. He lied his way into deeper trouble. When we saw each other that’s all we ever talked about.

“She did the right things. Recovery groups and a summer camp with trained counselors for kids in trouble. It cost her a lot. Burrell didn’t talk about it to her.
“ ‘Do whatever you want,’ he said. And she did.

She kept hoping he would grow up and learn some responsibility. He finished school and college but not with an unblemished record. He had several good jobs, any one of which would have moved him up. By now he would have had an upper level position. But he finally messed with drugs and company funds enough that he spent some time in prison.

“After they paid his fines and got lawyers for the fourth time, Burrell said, ‘I remember my dad’s brother. He had a son that wasted all the money the old man ever had. He finally sold his house and farm to try to help the boy and died with nothing. I don’t want that to happen to us.’

“When he was in prison, she didn’t go see him much and sent very little support. She wrote a lot, though. That was probably harder on her than giving the money would have been. I only asked her about it once.

“‘You know, I thought I taught him right from wrong. I tried to be consistent and reasonable. I took him to church and tried to make him face the consequences of his own actions. Maybe I shouldn’t have paid for counseling and lawyers. But somehow, it seems like this is what I have made him. I am responsible for what he is, too.’ I argued with her to no avail.

“Rachel was another story. She had been a medium student, but she worked hard and didn’t get into any trouble. She didn’t sleep around or get into any drugs as long as she was home. When she left home she made the dumbest mistakes. She roomed with a girl who stole her credit cards and charged the limit on them. Rachel worked for several years to pay them off when she should have taken the girl to court. She got a degree in accounting, but she worked as a waitress or in a bowling alley or shoe store. She could have done better. She had several boyfriends, but they all seemed to disappear, usually after borrowing all the money she had.

“I don’t think Merrilee knew many of the details. A few times she found out things by accident. Merrilee and Rachel sounded so much alike on the phone--people would say things, you know, before they realized it wasn’t Rachel they were talking to.

“ ‘My mother died when I was very young,’ Merrilee said one day. ‘I wish I could have known her as an adult, like a real friend. I want to know my daughter as a friend.’ It seemed to sadden her when that didn’t happen.

“You girls love your mother. Tell her so,” she said to Sadie and Apryl. They would just shrug. But I think she envied the relationship I have with them.

“Then there was Rich. He was younger than the others. She protected him and did more with him than I thought was necessary. She had always been supportive of the older ones, but when they began to get older, she felt them slipping away. With Rich she didn’t intend to let that happen.

“I’ve been talking so much my tea got cold. Is there anymore in the pot?” She poured.

Thanks.” I sipped the tea. “Remembering all this is hard. I remember times when we would talk and somehow we had opposite ideas about how to do things. Sometimes our friendship was very tiring. We were very good friends because we could take different stances and still discuss and listen to each other‘s point of view. I can‘t do that with anyone else very well, even with David. When we argue and fight, one of us has to change. But with Merrilee it was different. I remember a discussion we had about adoption. I said it was such a good thing for kids to be adopted when they are infants so they don‘t know any difference. She said she thought they knew anyway.

“ ‘I could love an adopted child, but that’s not the same as being its mother. I think the child feels the same way.’ We argued for a while, and Merrilee choked on her tea and couldn’t get her breath; we never finished that conversation.”

“I don’t want to stay too late. I have to get home sometime before five. Do we have time to order another pot of tea?” Joan said.

“Sure. I said David wasn’t well. He’s not even at home. I shouldn’t have brought him into this. He doesn’t like to be included in my alibis. Well, there‘s not much more to tell, I guess. That‘s not true, but I can‘t possibly tell it all. We did our thing, took kids to proms, chaperoned band trips, helped at the concession stands, you know, all that stuff. By the time Merrilee was doing the high school stuff for Richard, the other two were off at college or working or getting out of one mess and into another. They both married and divorced, maybe there was a live-in or two. She really didn‘t talk about them much when they were in the grip of some of the more distasteful stuff.

“I told her she should talk about it with them.”

“I have,” she said. “I told Shell that she chose men that said nice things to her, and I assured her that was not sufficient basis for a relationship or a marriage. She got this distressed look on her face and said, ‘But I love him.’ I thought I would kill her or throw up. Either action expresses my opinion pretty well.”

“But can’t you make her listen to you? You can’t let her throw her life away on worthless men.”

“ ‘Amanda,’ she said. She always said my name when she wanted to emphasize something. ‘Amanda, I have learned that you cannot control what your children say or do. Or think’

“Well, you have to do something,” I almost screamed.

“I’ve done all there is for me to do. It was a horrible shock to me when I discovered they really were different people. I thought I could make them obey, think rationally, see facts, be reasonable. I really thought I could make them be me in a different skin. Not! Then I thought I could train them, teach them to be the best they could be. Not, again.. They get to be who they want to be whether I like it or not.’

“I couldn’t believe she would accept that. I asked her again what she was going to do.”

“ ‘I’m going to make some chicken salad sandwiches for supper. Do you want to stay?’ I left. I was mad. She was just going to let that girl do whatever with whoever. I wasn’t really mad a Merrilee, just mad at the injustice of it. Merrilee was my friend and I loved her. I wanted good things to happen for her.

“Later I remembered something she said a long time ago.

“ ‘You talk about the women in your family as a unit. Our makeup, our emotions, our friends. I know you use Clinique, but do all the women in your family?’ Well, I said we did, of course. She looked at me rather strangely and shook her head.”

“Joan you have that same look on your face. What are you thinking?” She blinked and drained her cup.

“It’s time to go. We have finished the second pot of tea, and I still have to fix supper.”

“Yes, it‘s late. Thanks for going to the funeral home with me and for listening to my story. I think talking about her helped me.”

* * *

I was tired and it felt good to take off my shoes, but the doorbell rang. I put them on again. It was Richard at the door with a small blue satin covered box. He was dressed for the visitation in a black suit. He looked wonderful.

“Rich, come in.” I had forgotten that he said he was coming by. He followed me into the living room. “Come, sit.” I said. He offered me the box.

“She kept this in a dresser drawer for years. I don’t know what is in it, but it was very precious to her. That’s why she wanted you to have it. She said you were the only one who would understand it.” He seemed so much more like Merrilee than the other two. He was honest in a loving way, not blunt or brutal. He seemed to have accepted her death the way she would have. It was just a thing whose time had come.

We talked a few minutes about trivialities and he left. I could hardly wait to open the box. I took off my shoes again and sat in my chair. And cried.

Now that I was ready, I couldn’t open the box for a long time. Finally, I took the lid off. Inside were an array of items: cards from Christmas presents, pictures, a pin I gave her 10 years ago, notes when she was sick, pieces of our friendship. A piece of blue writing paper was folded neatly in the bottom.



Amanda, my dear friend,

There were many things I couldn’t say in person. I want you to know you were the most important friend I ever had. Thank you for being challenging and adversarial--you would have said bitch, but I am trying to be serious. Our conflicts as well as our love have helped me grow.

I also wanted you to know a few things I could never find a way to tell you. I wanted them to stay in the past, but they caused questions between us. I think you deserve to know the truth.

When we were still living in the city, actually it was after Robert and Rachel were born, I had a nanny for them. I was making twice or three times Burrell’s salary, and it bothered him. I thought I could control the problem by making sure that I saved or invested everything I made over Burrell salary. That way I thought I was just doing my half. After two or three years my career really began to take off. I was doing very well, but we almost lived in different circles. I had lunch with the big wigs downtown, and he ate a sandwich with the secretary at the shop. Do you see where this is going? She got pregnant. When I found out, I raved and screamed. He was very contrite and sorry.

We made a deal. I would quit my job, stay home with the kids until they were out of high school if he agreed to move back to Davenport. This all came to light about Christmas. We planned to move when the kids got out of school in the summer. You can see my strategy.

But we still had a problem: the girl and the baby. Burrell would pay child support, and she would be able to go back to work. But my one most important demand was that he have no contact with the girl or the baby. I had saved some money. We used some of that to pay her bills until the baby was born. The rest would be for our new house. The baby was due in March.

Then disaster. She died in delivery. The hospital called Burrell, but he wasn’t home. I went to the hospital to see if I could find her relatives. There were none. After all my sacrifice, I couldn’t make this thing work. Now there was a baby and funeral expenses. Burrell was the responsible party. He said he had to raise the baby. I was ready to kill him. We were in a complete quandary for about three days. Finally, we had to take the baby out of the hospital, but we didn’t know what to do with it. Burrell said he could not put it up for adoption. I said I couldn’t live with it.

Then I saw him. He was beautiful. That was the first time God ever spoke to me. Very softly, in my heart, I heard Him say, “This baby needs you and you need him.”

“I don’t want to love him,” I said to God. I cried and cried all the way home with the baby in my arms. That was before car seats, remember?

Dad wanted to help me, but I refused. He really didn’t like Burrell very much, kind of like I felt about Marissa. I didn’t even mind when she left after Dad got sick. We had always been close so taking care of him was O.K. He had a nurse and maid. I was just the love. Maybe you don’t remember, but I was with him when he died. Anyway, he accepted Richard like a grandchild. He left the Brigadier Building to him. I just got the rent as long as I lived.

If you are reading this, I am not in this world. We still had lots of things to discuss and arguments to have. I hope you find someone to do that with.

Oh, yes, there is one more thing. Adoption is better than having kids of your own. There is no guilt for the genetics part. With Richard love is the only part of me that transferred.

It was good to know you. See you there.

Merrilee

After an hour or so I stopped crying and sat with Merrilee until bedtime.