children, or two or three. But the point is I would have gladly given Betts as many as she wanted. What I felt for her was the kind of love that only comes along once in a man’s lifetime. Every time I thought about Betts, I was faced with the knowledge of how little I had.
I looked over at Valerie’s head bobbing lightly against the passenger-side window like a wonton in a bowl of soup. I sighed hard. Not to sound like a whiny old woman, but long ago I had reconciled myself to a half-baked love life, and now I was facing the likelihood that children would not be in my future.
I blushed in the dark to realize how excited I was at the thought that I might see Betts again. I was having a moment of romantic foolishness and didn’t care. What if I did see her? Would the heat still be there? Or would it be incredibly awkward?
You can imagine what happened between us. After her mother’s death, she broke off our engagement and ran away from home. Since I had the luxury of long consideration, I know with certainty that the breakup was inevitable. Long ago my dad and I accepted the fact that my mother’s behavior had been the catalyst for the entire debacle. Everyone acknowledged it…except Mother, that is. And let me tell you, my mother and I fought about the death of Adrianna McGee for years until there was nothing left to be said.
I guess that in the end, I dealt with the loss of Betts the same way Betts dealt with the loss of her mother. We both withdrew, except she took the added advantage of geographical distance. But one thing was certain. I would never allow myself to love anyone again as I had loved her. My long-standing marriage to Valerie was proof of that. For years I had been just going through the motions with her and working longer and longer hours.
But that night, knowing Betts was coming back, I relived it all. I relived it all. I was barely a kid back then, but I was so in love I couldn’t see straight. Then that telephone call came. The next thing I knew I was looking for a dark suit and a clean shirt.
There must have been five hundred people at that wake and so many flowers that they spilled out into the hall. Somehow Betts and I got through that night, but we got through it separately. Betts stood at her father and sister’s side, rooted there like a slim sapling. Shewas still wearing the diamond I had given her. But she was barely speaking to me or anyone else.
That was no surprise. The shock was immense. My parents made a brief and extremely uncomfortable appearance at the wake and the room fell silent. True, they sent a basket of flowers as big as a Cadillac, but it didn’t change the facts. Everyone watched to see how the McGees would greet the Langleys. The McGees were stoic and looked right through Louisa and Big Jim as though they were invisible. Once again, my family had driven a stake through Betts’s family’s heart and every tongue in Charleston was wagging about it. Another generation, another blow, and the divide between our two families would widen again, this time perhaps forever.
The funeral was the following day. After the emotionally charged yet solemn service at her mother’s family church, we drove in a long procession out to St. Lawrence Cemetery, where Betts, her sister, Joanie, and her father, Vaughn, visibly struggled to remain composed. To begin with, they were all as pale as cadavers. But the moment that the priest began to sprinkle the casket with holy water, any self-control they had just evaporated.
I think they call that kind of crying “keening,” a piercing wail at such an acute pitch that you never forget it. It’s still inside me to this day. It was so awful. So awful. Finally, by God’s mercy, the interment ended and we made our way back to the grand old McGee home on Tradd Street for a reception. In true southern tradition, there was enough food for everyone on the entire peninsula and the liquor was flowing like water. The guests ate and drank aplenty,
I looked over at Valerie’s head bobbing lightly against the passenger-side window like a wonton in a bowl of soup. I sighed hard. Not to sound like a whiny old woman, but long ago I had reconciled myself to a half-baked love life, and now I was facing the likelihood that children would not be in my future.
I blushed in the dark to realize how excited I was at the thought that I might see Betts again. I was having a moment of romantic foolishness and didn’t care. What if I did see her? Would the heat still be there? Or would it be incredibly awkward?
You can imagine what happened between us. After her mother’s death, she broke off our engagement and ran away from home. Since I had the luxury of long consideration, I know with certainty that the breakup was inevitable. Long ago my dad and I accepted the fact that my mother’s behavior had been the catalyst for the entire debacle. Everyone acknowledged it…except Mother, that is. And let me tell you, my mother and I fought about the death of Adrianna McGee for years until there was nothing left to be said.
I guess that in the end, I dealt with the loss of Betts the same way Betts dealt with the loss of her mother. We both withdrew, except she took the added advantage of geographical distance. But one thing was certain. I would never allow myself to love anyone again as I had loved her. My long-standing marriage to Valerie was proof of that. For years I had been just going through the motions with her and working longer and longer hours.
But that night, knowing Betts was coming back, I relived it all. I relived it all. I was barely a kid back then, but I was so in love I couldn’t see straight. Then that telephone call came. The next thing I knew I was looking for a dark suit and a clean shirt.
There must have been five hundred people at that wake and so many flowers that they spilled out into the hall. Somehow Betts and I got through that night, but we got through it separately. Betts stood at her father and sister’s side, rooted there like a slim sapling. Shewas still wearing the diamond I had given her. But she was barely speaking to me or anyone else.
That was no surprise. The shock was immense. My parents made a brief and extremely uncomfortable appearance at the wake and the room fell silent. True, they sent a basket of flowers as big as a Cadillac, but it didn’t change the facts. Everyone watched to see how the McGees would greet the Langleys. The McGees were stoic and looked right through Louisa and Big Jim as though they were invisible. Once again, my family had driven a stake through Betts’s family’s heart and every tongue in Charleston was wagging about it. Another generation, another blow, and the divide between our two families would widen again, this time perhaps forever.
The funeral was the following day. After the emotionally charged yet solemn service at her mother’s family church, we drove in a long procession out to St. Lawrence Cemetery, where Betts, her sister, Joanie, and her father, Vaughn, visibly struggled to remain composed. To begin with, they were all as pale as cadavers. But the moment that the priest began to sprinkle the casket with holy water, any self-control they had just evaporated.
I think they call that kind of crying “keening,” a piercing wail at such an acute pitch that you never forget it. It’s still inside me to this day. It was so awful. So awful. Finally, by God’s mercy, the interment ended and we made our way back to the grand old McGee home on Tradd Street for a reception. In true southern tradition, there was enough food for everyone on the entire peninsula and the liquor was flowing like water. The guests ate and drank aplenty,
Similar Books
