Les Tales by Nikki Rashan Skyy

Author:Nikki Rashan Skyy [Skyy, Nikki Rashan;Fiona Zedde]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2014-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Layne hadn’t allowed me to drink often. When she was alive, I would partake in libations with her and her friends, all a bunch of uppity, pretentious men and women who celebrated their successes through raised glasses of Dom Pérignon during private yacht parties or in a secluded room in Chicago’s upscale restaurants. Even at those events where Layne and her counterparts inhaled drink after drink, Layne would always restrict me to just one.

Even at Layne’s repast, which had been as stuffy and stiff as her friends, I had found myself abiding by Layne’s rules, limiting my intake to one glass of wine, although I had craved more. At that time I had still loved Layne and had wanted to honor her and represent her properly from six feet above. Her friends had been gracious, kind, even, paying attention to me for the first time. I wondered what those friends would think if they knew of Layne’s truest feeling about them, how she had scrutinized their careers, their homes, their clothing, and the schools their children attended. Layne, with her superiority complex, had defamed her counterparts, though they had done nothing but adore her. They, like me, had been clueless about the person Layne really was.

I was in the master bathroom Jacuzzi, listening to an R & B and rap station, which Layne would have scolded me for if she were alive. As further retribution, I was sipping my second glass of full-bodied red wine. I leaned back against the bath cushion and closed my eyes, remembering how diligently I had wanted to follow Layne’s wishes for her funeral. She had documented every detail with her attorney in advance, unbeknownst to me, and I was merely handed the paperwork the day after she died.

We held the service at the funeral home of a wealthy friend of hers. Everyone in attendance wore designer dresses and expensive suits. It was a boring service, nothing like the spirited funerals I had attended as a child for family members of my father. Layne’s parents spoke about her upbringing and the successes she achieved from grade school until she died. Jenna and I talked about our family life, reading from a script Layne had written herself. I learned that every two years she had provided her attorney with a revision.

Layne had selected which family members and friends would be allowed to speak. There was no allotment for anyone else to express their grief. The only moment they had was just before the service ended, when all the attendees walked to the front to say their final good-byes to Layne’s closed casket.

My eyes shot open, and I sat upright in the bubbly water. “She was there,” I whispered.

I remembered seeing her now. She’d worn a simple black dress, with a veiled hat covering her face. Nina had stopped and rested her hands on the white casket before kissing it. Then she had turned and glanced at me and Jenna through the lace, and her eyes had darted ahead when my eyes met hers.

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