Post by Vhodka Marie on May 31, 2021 19:12:05 GMT -5
There have been occasional moments in my life that I have found myself in the position of feeling like a cumulus cloud, bloated and heavy with moisture... just waiting for that fateful moment that would spill me open and drain me out onto the blackened asphalt below me. Rivers of my personality spread through the cracks in the blacktop like blood carving bowling lanes through the negative space of my teeth. As I stood there staring in the mirror at a woman that I no longer entirely recognized I could tell I was on the precipice of another one of those sorts of moments. My hands gripped the chipped porcelain sink below me in an effort to steady myself though I knew what I really wanted was to reach out and grab something that would stop the freefall I was struggling against. The tender flesh around my eyes was still irritated and angry from the chemical that had been sprayed at them at International Incident, a receipt that I could admit I at least partially deserved all while I fumed at its delivery.
The Southern Title and its loss were inconsequential, it hadn’t meant much before and it meant even less now. Let Montuori and Kain deal with that bag of snakes. I only hoped it brought them all the joy that it had brought me in my eight-month reign as it’s champion. I don’t mean for that to sound as bitter as it does, really. Paul and I had bonded somewhat during our ordeal and bonded more in the aftermath of no one believing that truth of had what occurred. All in all, he wasn’t entirely the terrible person that I had previously painted him as. Paul was just... misunderstood. Where the elder Montuori was a dime store novel I had learned that Paul was about as transparent as a glass of milk, you saw only the carefully constructed character that he wanted you to see, but you never saw the truth of the man behind the fool facade.
Stylez was gone. The belt was gone. I finally had my freedom yet with a single text message I had been thrown into a quicksand casket padlocked from the outside, a fork in the road that threw me off the journey to salvation and onto a road I didn’t know how to travel; didn’t want to travel. What hurt the most was that fact that the one person who was supposed to have my back, the person who claimed to love me above all others... he had betrayed me. Again. The stinging in my eyes reminded me that this was not the first time that he had put himself above me, it was a pattern of behavior with him. His needs, his wants, placed above my own and me left scrambling behind to pick up the scraps that fell off his plate and onto mine. Love is complicated, isn’t that what they say? Is this even love at all?
From the moment that we had met all those years ago Vincent has stripped me of my choices. Rendered me a circus child in the big top of his life, I perform and the crowd claps. What a funny trick! I chose him, gave myself over to him to have and to carry gently into the future. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing me talk about it but I don’t think you understand how it felt to go to sleep thinking that you belong to someone and wake up to find them in another bed with someone the antithesis of everything that you are not. Was I bad? Did I not live up to his expectations? Was I practice for something better? I didn’t have a choice. There was no opportunity for me to fight, to speak up and to ask what I had done that was so wrong that I should be cast aside. He just left me there laying in the shadow of the valley that I had carved with my body like a dull spoon into a hardened container of ice cream. When I found my womb heavy with his doing there was no choice for me, only his will and his will is law, in case you haven’t noticed. He had taken away my opportunity to be a mother with the four words that fell from his mouth, his eyes averted so that he didn’t have to witness the splatter his gunshot left on the wall of my life. As you know by now, I disobeyed this command, found another path for myself and for our daughter. It tore pieces from me, leaving behind infected wounds that never quite healed the way they should have. I think if you pressed your palm against one of those old tears you would still feel the warmth of infection underneath the shiny scar tissue over top.
So many years of making my peace with it, of convincing myself that it had been for the best and that I hadn’t been suited for the role so much that I had finally believed it myself. All of that only for him to take away my choice again, to force me into the role that he had torn away from me the way he had torn my clothes away to conceive her. The ugly truth of it was that I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to confront the consequences of my choices and explain to her that over her I had chosen a man who had never once until recently chosen me. That he had been more important than her, that he had almost been more important than her life all together. He had sank teeth into me like a peach, sweet at first but then slowly devoured me with his hunger to leave behind only the pit. How could I explain this to a child?
Could I have ever been someone else? Was there a line in the multiverse where I was capable and smart, where I had the capacity to care for the fruit borne of my tree? Or have I always been this way? Juggling one car crash behind the next. She was better off without me, I was sure of it. But he, he had gone and messed it all up now. Forced me to take part in something I did not want, something I could not be. Was this his subtle way to mold me into his former wife? To make me the kind of woman who bakes cupcakes and wears t-shirts with stick families on them? Maybe in the end it would always fall back to her and the ways in which I blistered under her heat. I could not be his former wife when I could barely be myself.
The day had brought me three phone calls all of varying degree of being able to blow my whole world wide open. The first of which had gone to voicemail was a message from Vincent telling me that we needed to talk when he got back to the apartment. The second from Alexis let me know just exactly what kind of talk this would be – the kind where he very rationally tried to explain his reasons for doing whatever he had done this time as I very rationally tried not to split him open like a pinata at a birthday party for yet again forcing me into a role I didn’t want to be cast in. The third had interrupted the aforementioned talk, a phone call from my very frantic father informing me that my mother had just admitted to murder. The argument was put on hold and one very hasty and tense trip to Bent Fork ensued. JJ, Asher and Noelle were brought along under the guise that we didn’t trust them enough to be left alone as we travelled out of state but in truth, they were only there to make sure that the day didn’t end in two Bickett women committing murder.
In this tiny trailer bathroom I gathered myself, the force of my personality, and huddled it around the raw feelings that were threatening to swallow me up. I had to get myself together before my father brought my mother through that door. I had to get it together because I was assumed, no, I was expected to be the strong one. I could not fall apart right now when every person in the other room depended on me to keep them together. The part of me that was in the driver's seat had witnessed JJ tense up and huddle in on himself every time that Vincent and I begin in on one another. I watched Asher look uneasy as if he didn’t know which side he should take, if any. Noelle positively radiated joy and seemed like she would have been thrilled to watch us tear each other from limb to limb. At least someone was having a good day. Martha, or Pixie as she’s asked us to call her these days, was thankfully still out at her Project Honor booking and wouldn’t be flying back home until tomorrow. Part of me wished that she was here and the other part was thankful that she would only hear about the events that had transpired second, third and fourth hand from her cohorts.
I emerged from the claustrophobically small bathroom right as the trailer door opened and my giggly and unexplainably mud-covered mother was forcefully pushed into the trailer. My father was stoic behind her, scowling at her as she went first to the floor on hands and knees before readjusting herself to a sitting position, her back against the bottom of one of the storage benches.
« Buck Bickett »
Found her in my ‘shine stash. Woman’s three sheets to the shitter.
« Beulah May Bickett »
I’ll have you know I cleaned all the sheets. Shits. Shiiiieeets.
The usually bubbly blonde was practically fully carbonated as she giggled on the floor, reaching out to tug on the bottom of her husband’s trouser leg as if she was confused about why he wasn’t also laughing at her joke.
« Beulah May Bickett »
She sells shit sheets down by the she store.
Beulah hiccupped loudly before laughing louder, seemingly amused by her own involuntary bodily functions. Asher and JJ, having never met my mother before, seemed strangely transfixed by the dainty woman writhing on the floor. Noelle looked on the way she looked at everything else in life; like she was constipated. My eyes involuntarily scanned to Vincent who looked like he was trying very hard not to smile in the face of my Father’s ire.
« Vhodka Marie »
How much did she have?
« Buck Bickett »
All of it.
« Vhodka Marie »
No way.
« Buck Bickett »
Hand to God, she drained me dry. Blood alcohol level must look like Dubya at a frat party.
« Vhodka Marie »
What set her off?
Buck and Vincent looked at each other uneasily, my father with a certain measure of embarrassment that didn’t look at home on his usually defiant face, Vincent smugly staring at him as if to say “you tell her”. My hands found my hips as I looked between them, a mirror image of the way my mother used to look at me when I was a little girl and had been into something I shouldn’t have been in.
« Vhodka Marie »
Well?
« Beulah May Bickett »
BUCK! Frannie is here! Look! It’s my sweet stupid baby girl! Give Mama her sugars.
« Vhodka Marie »
STUPID?!
« Beulah May Bickett »
Get that --
She hiccupped loudly again, gesturing towards my father with a free hand.
« Beulah May Bickett »
From his side.
My mother has never in her life said uttered the word stupid, not even against her most hated enemy Joyce Whipple four trailers down. She was a southern woman which meant her insults were veiled in saccharine sweetness and delivered with a smile, she did not stoop down to calling people stupid. She sure as hell didn’t call her precious baby girl stupid.
« Vhodka Marie »
Alright, what the hell is going on here? Someone better get to explaining or I’m going for daddy's gun.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Ohhh you brought the kidddds. Foods in the trailer next door. Beans on toast and beef fried beef, just likes ya likes. Sprouts for you Vancent.
« Asher Jules »
How’d she know?
« Vhodka Marie »
It’s her thing. Don’t question it.
Beulah had made it to her feet and was swaying back and forth next to my father, lifting his arms as she wiggled herself around the tiny free space of the trailer.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Ya’ll wanna dance? I wanna dance. Spin me ‘round, Buck.
« Buck Bickett »
Woman, I spin you around in this state you’ll paint the walls. Sit down, will ya?
My father gently guided my mother down into the small booth that served as kitchen table in this style trailer. Her head hit the table top with a thunk as she seemed to be trying to get the room to stop spinning.
« Vincent Black »
Your father paid me a visit and had a small mishap with his phone. It must have been contagious as I suffered the same mishap with my phone later on.
Vincent smiled at my father as he lunged forward at him pointing one work worn finger directly into my boyfriend's face but more specifically at his satisfied smile.
« Buck Bickett »
Now, mine was a pure accident. You did yours on purpose.
« Vincent Black »
Buck, I’m wounded you would imply such a thing.
« Buck Bickett »
Keep talkin’ city boy, you’re in my house now. I ain’t gotta take none of your guff in my own house.
« Vincent Black »
Technically, it’s my house. I bought the town, remember?
« Vhodka Marie »
ENOUGH. Someone get to talking, now.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Oh hell, I’ll do it. Heard these two chuckleheads spilled the beans to the girl. Thought I’d take a few nips ‘fore your daddy got back so I didn’t shoot’em. Musta taken a few too many on account of you got three heads today.
My eyes instantly narrowed in the direction of my father and Vincent who were staring at me with the same embarrassed looks on looks on their faces.
« Vhodka Marie »
So, she didn’t really kill anyone? She just heavily and rightly, I might add, considered shooting you after the two of you pulled this mess?
« Buck Bickett »
Wouldn’ta called you down here for that. Woman tries to shoot me at least once a week.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Nope, I kilt him.
She belched loudly, lifting her head to smile up at me as if everything was just right as rain.
« Vhodka Marie »
Who?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Can’t tella story without snacks. Poor angels must be starvin’ after the trip. Buck, go on and get the food from next door an’ bring it on over.
When my father returned with the food, portions were doled out and everyone situated themselves to hear my mother confess to murder. Had my life been in better standing at that point in time it might have been funny but as it were I really wasn’t much in the mood for laughing. I didn’t like seeing my mother sloshed, even if she did seem to be enjoying herself much more than anyone else in the room. I also didn’t like the uneasy looks that my father and boyfriend kept shooting back and forth at each other. I felt like the odd man out in my own familial home.
« Vhodka Marie »
Alright, spill the beans.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Do you remember that ol’ codger Mr. Buchannan?
« Vhodka Marie »
Who?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Were a youngin, no more than five or six years old. Man used to live down in Melba’s trailer ‘fore she took it over.
« Vhodka Marie »
I have a vague recollection of some old man who used to live there but I don’t remember him. Why’s it matter?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Rumors were he was a funny uncle, if ya know what I mean? Used to hang out by the park and watch you kids play. One day, I was sitting there chattin’ up with the girls while you kids were playing and I saw him. He had you off to the side and was down on your level talkin’ to ya about something. Decided then and there that I’d pay him a call that next day.
« Buck Bickett »
And just why the hell didn’t you let me take care of it?
« Beulah May Bickett »
‘Cos your answer to all of life's problems are to shoot holes in it.
« Buck Bickett »
So?
« Beulah May Bickett »
I didn’t want my husband behind bars for murder. What woulda people thought?
« Buck Bickett »
Reckon they’d have thought I was a good shot.
My father shrugged his shoulders as Vincent nodded his head in agreement. Of course, he wouldn’t see anything wrong with shooting a man that was a threat to your children. He’d have done much, much worse in my father’s position and not lost a bit of sleep over it.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Went over the very next day so as he and I could come to some sort of friendly agreement on the matter. All I intended to do was have a talk with the man, you know, put a little feara’ god into’em. He invited me in and was cordial, I told him that we didn’t cotton to his sort around these parts and I didn’t want him ever talkin’ to my daughter or any other child in this town again. ‘Course he told me I had it all wrong, that the rumors weren’t nothin’, just liked kids is all. Hmpfh.
Beulah bristled in her seat, eyes going far away into some memory she had been carrying the weight of alone for all these years. I had no recollection of any of this and judging by the look on my father’s face this was also the first time he was hearing of it. The story would have gone much differently if Buck Bickett had been involved, though the outcome would have remained the same.
« Beulah May Bickett »
As we were talkin’ he got a phone call and stepped away. While he was in the other room taking his call I got to lookin’ around the trailer to pass the time. Seemed a normal enough man and I was startin’ to believe him that he was just a lonely fella that was misunderstood, was all. I don’t know if it was divine intervention or a mother's intuition but I saw the edge of a photograph sticking out from underneath a stack of magazines on the table, I pulled it out to have a look-see and saw that it was of Frannie playing at the park with some other children. The devil just jumped up and sprang over me in that moment, I grabbed the cast iron skillet off the stove top, marched back there and crowned him with it.
Beulah cast her eyes defiantly to every person in the room, challenging them to question her on her actions. Buck stood flat footed; his mouth slightly agape. My mother was the most even-tempered woman on this earth, I don’t think he could quite wrap his mind around his delicate bride wapping a man upside the head with a skillet.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Fella went down like a sack of rotten potatoes, only problem was he didn’t get back up. I thought about calling the sheriff but every time I worked up the nerve to make the call I went back and looked at that picture of you kids playing in the park and knew that this was no great loss to the world.
« Buck Bickett »
God lord, woman. You coulda least called me!
« Beulah May Bickett »
And leave our baby an orphan should someone had found out? ‘Sides, I had it under control.
« Vhodka Marie »
What the hell did you do with him?
« Beulah May Bickett »
After some thinkin’ I went and pulled the car up to the door and loaded him in the front seat. Wrapped him in a blanket and put a toboggan on his head to cover up the damage. Figured if anyone asked I’d tell’em he had the flu and I was takin’ him into town to see the doctor. Drove out to the bog and dumped him in, weighted him down with some rocks to make sure he really sank. You know, it’s funny. As I stood up on the bank watching him sink all I could think was that I was sad that he was gone on account of that meant I couldn’t kill him again. Think I would have liked to had done it slower if given a chance to do it again.
Vincent stepped forward and took my mother's hands in his own, looking down at her face with a sense of wonderment and pride.
« Vincent Black »
Can I call you mom?
Beulah patted his hands, smiling up at the hulking man before her.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Of course, sugar.
« Vhodka Marie »
So, like, no one ever went looking for this guy after you offed him? That was just it?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Well, of course they looked for him. After I got rid of the body while most folks were still off at work I snuck back into his trailer to make sure I had cleaned up after myself. Scrubbed the blood off the floor and brought the skillet back home with me so I didn’t need to worry about it. It was a great skillet anyway, perfectly seasoned.
« Vhodka Marie »
I’m sorry, what?
« Beulah May Bickett »
You know how hard it is to season cast iron. Seemed a waste to get rid of it when all it needed was a good cleaning.
« Vincent Black »
Are you saying that you took the murder weapon and... used it? For cooking?
« Beulah May Bickett »
Well, why are you all looking at me like that? It’s turned out to be one of my favorite pans. Cooked that beef fried beef in it just today.
Everyone in the room immediately looked down at their plates and turned the same shade of green which was a pretty neat trick. Vincent paused in thought but eventually shrugged and continued to eat, however it seemed everyone else had lost their appetite.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Everyone just assumed he had got up and ran off, wasn’t local like most folks so it seemed to reason he might have just been passing through. Trailer was a rental property anyway and he didn’t seem to have too many belongings anyone was worried that he had left behind. All's well that ends well, I suppose.
Everyone in the room sat in stunned silence at my mother's long held secret. Who knows why she had decided to finally come clean at this moment in time, likely the moonshine had played a part, but for whatever reason her load seemed to be much lighter now that the secret was shared.
« Buck Bickett »
Well, I’ll hand it to ya. Couldn’t have done a better job myself.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Thank you, dear.
« Noelle Rivers »
I’m going to be sick.
« Asher Jules »
I’m moving in.
« Beulah May Bickett »
Alright, who wants dessert?
JJ and Noelle yelled no at the very same moment that Asher yelled yes. Now that the adrenaline of my mother being a murderer had worn off I felt drained and about six hundred years old. This tiny tin box of a trailer was suddenly much too full and much too loud for my present state of mind. I wanted to run, to be outside in as much space as I could get. My parents were too wrapped up in their guests to care much as I hit the door, carrying my body through and outside as fast as my legs could carry me without alerting anyone that something was wrong with the exception of Vincent who always seemed hyper aware of my moods, sometimes more so than I was. He followed silently, closing the trailer door behind him as he watched me take several deep breaths.
« Vincent Black »
Are you ready to have a rational conversation yet?
« Vhodka Marie »
Are you ready to get bent yet?
« Vincent Black »
Maybe later.
God, he irritated me. I hated him standing there looking like the picture of calmness while I felt like everything inside me was falling apart. It was like nothing that happened to me ever touched him, he was never concerned with it, always just watching like a teacher looks on at a student.
« Vhodka Marie »
I hate when you do that.
« Vincent Black »
Do what?
« Vhodka Marie »
THAT. Stand there all calm and collected and make me look like a crazy person.
« Vincent Black »
I assure you my calm is not what makes you look like a crazy person.
Under normal circumstances we would have gone back and forth about this for a while, it would have been playful and maybe even a bit fun but tonight, tonight I lost it. I wasn’t ready to talk about Ripley so I used something else in place of the thing I was truly angry about.
« Vhodka Marie »
Where the hell were you?
Vincent took a deep breath as if he was centering himself for the fight that was coming. He looked at me steadily, like you look at someone on the judo mat in sparring. Never taking your eyes off of the person so that you don’t end up flat on your back.
« Vincent Black »
In the back.
« Vhodka Marie »
And what? You just happened to be turned away at the very moment your ex-wife decided to involve herself in my business?
« Vincent Black »
No.
« Vhodka Marie »
Then what, Vincent? Anyone else in the world and you’d have been there.
« Vincent Black »
I thought you two needed to work it out.
The words were simple enough but they didn’t make sense in my mind. What did that mean?
« Vhodka Marie »
So, you were watching and you saw what she did and you just decided not to intervene, is that it?
« Vincent Black »
More or less.
« Vhodka Marie »
More or less? It’s either what happened or it isn’t.
Vincent stared at me for a moment, I’m not sure why or for what purpose but finally he spoke again.
« Vincent Black »
I knew what she planned to do before she did it.
In that moment, I knew what my mother had felt when she cracked that frying pan over the skull of the man down the road. I was outside of my body, above it, watching as I punched the love of my life right in the face.