Part 4 Grief
Seems every time I bring up any questions about Don, mom would get kind
of quiet and make vague comments. Daddy is so neutral it galls me, but after
a a while I'm beginning to realize they are leaving things up to my own devices,
like Don seems to be doing. They are giving me so much leeway, I feel nervous.
What is this it all about, anyway? What does everyone want?
She was lying on her stomach across her bed, feet up, the end of her pen
absently stuck in the corner of her mouth as she mulled things over.
I'm trying to sort out my feelings about Don, it's a kind of...
warm and chummy sort of feeling,
though it's not like my friendships with classmates or even the occasional
crush on a boy, or some cute celebrity-of-the-month. It's a kind of
offshoot of the feelings I have for Daddy, which can only be described as,
well, Daddy. I love him more than anything. Devon and Seth... hey, they're
brothers, enough said. They all pretty much saw Daddy is their dad. Well...
except Seth. He was kind of different about a few things. He insists on calling
Daddy by his first name. HE's always been kind of different, but he has nothing
on Riahna.
And Raphael, well, he kinda took Daddy's place for a while, when he had lived
with Mom. He's been decent to me, that I can recall, though there were some
kind of scary things about him, like his temper. I never felt completely
at ease around him.
Leonardo is too distant for me to draw any conclusions from...
Back to Don... he is... well, interesting, to say the very least. When I
catch Dad in the right mood, he'd answer questions about Don, but only a
few. Like what he was like when they all were younger, and stuff. Mom said
a lot less about it, and was always telling me that if I wanted to know more
about Don, to go ahead and ask him. But I didn't always feel like it was
my place to do that. Maybe later, I
will.
She heard the low hum of an engine, and got up to peer out the south window
of her room. She caught the gleam of dark metal through the leaves of the
trees as a long car passed slowly below her window, coasting to a stop near
the front door. She knew it was Don when he emerged, he was the only one
who wore that black coat, even on a warm, sunny day like today. He must have
flown in from somewhere, like Buenos Aires, or something... where it was
winter... He was standing in front of the car now, sideways to her, as he
stood staring... at what, she couldn't guess, there was nothing but a hedge
of oleanders in that direction. Maybe he had heard a noise.... but then he
turned toward the house. As he slowly ascended the front steps, she caught
the tired, blank expression on his face.
"Hi," she called tentatively down the stairs as she saw him now standing
in the middle of the front hall, looking around in a daze. "Geez, you look
like a lost tourist. C'mon in!"
He greeted her with a fixed smile. "Ah, hello, Gaele, how are you?" His eyes
seemed to glaze over. "Where is your father?"
"He's uh, in his studio, I think. Everyone else is out back..." Her voice
trailed off when she noticed he'd turned his back on her and walked away
without any further comment. She stood still and stared at him, feeling suddenly
hurt. He'd never done that before... and he had sounded far too polite, as
though she were a stranger- or an employee.
She went and got herself an iced tea from the fridge, and sipped it, absently
twirling the swizzle sticks in their holder at the bar. She started up when
she saw Mike closely follow Don out through the living room, not seeming
to notice her as they passed to enter the sunny atrium, and they slowly sat
down in chairs, there. Neither of them spoke, and then Mike leaned forward,
elbows on knees, and lowered his head into his hands, as though suddenly
tired.
It was then that Gaele got the feeling that something really bad had happened,
and Don had just finished breaking the news to Mike. She wanted to go in
and sit with them, but couldn't bring herself to impose, judging by the closed
looks on their faces. She decided to go find her mother and tell her what
happened. Then, feeling supported by her presence, followed Rahab into
the atrium.
Mike swallowed and stared wide eyed up at his wife when he noticed her. The
look on his face made Gaele's throat close up in a painful knot. Mike and
Rahab continued to gaze at each other in silence, as though they were engaged
in wordless conversation.
"What is it?" Gaele asked no one in particular.
She caught Don's eye, and his mouth opened a little, as though he were about
to speak, but a sound distracted him.
Gaele looked to see Rahab holding her hands tightly to her face, as her upper
body swayed a little. She let out a thin, sighing wail that stirred everyone
into action. Mike got up and grabbed Rahab's elbow, and pulled her tightly
against him. He hid his face in her hair, and shuddered a little, as though
hard pressed to stay in a standing position. Rahab uncoiled a little to hold
Mike's neck closer to her, and they stood in this hard embrace, as though
letting go would cause them to fall apart.
Don turned away slowly, and head lowered, walked wearily back through the
living room.
Without thinking, Gaele followed, and grabbed Don by the belt of his coat
to stop him. "Wait," she said, her throat barely open enough to speak. "Don...
please, did someone... was it your-" She tried to finish, but the look of
tender sympathy mixed with grief on Don's face as he nodded an affirmation,
closed her throat up completely.
Gaele then noticed her parents were still in an embrace, but both were blankly
looking in her and Don's direction. They didn't move or react in any way,
they seemed frozen in their own circle of mutual grief.
Don was looking at his feet. "It's... all right, Gaele, really... our master
had a very long, full and honorable life. He has finally gone to his well
deserved rest, and retained enormous face, out of reach of his enemies...
he has the final victory. His time is... now past." He fell silent, and seemed
more interested in the pattern of the carpet than anything else at the moment.
He seemed to shake himself, and then looked up at her again. His eyes were
dry. "Forgive me Gaele, if I take leave of you, I haven't slept in a very
long time. I... will see you this evening. Maybe."
"Uhm, okay, I'm uh, I'm sorry," Gaele managed to say. She stood unable to
move, watching him slide the glass door aside, to make his way down to the
guest house.