Filter, Leslie

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Leslie FilterThe Storms of Outside Do Come Within/As the funeral director made the final arrangements withthe flowers, people trickled into the church, and found places onthe pews. The service wasn't for another half hour, but manyhad already come, and many of the pews were already filled.Until the music began, a forced silence filled the sanctuary, andonly hushed voices could be heard over the quiet. When themusic did begin, many of those hushed voices relaxed, butstrengthened in volume, as if they thought the soft, hollow notesof the pipe organ would conceal their voices or muffle them.Jesse sat there in the very first pew, the one reserved forfamily. She was by herseH on the long wooden bench, and shesat in the light from the window that streaked through VirginMary. The music from above filled her ears, but she couldbarely hear the notes over the thoughts that ran through hermind. The fight which broke out last summer between her dadand her grandfather filtered through her hazy thoughts.Grandpa Emerson had invited Jesse-and her father up fora week, and they weren't there even a day; when the two wereat each other once again. Jesse searched for the reason of theargument as she sat on that gym-bleacher-hard pew, but shecouldn't find it anywhere. Like the other fights, it was probablyover a minor thing, and even the fights probably couldn't haverecalled it. She only could remember that the fight entered yetanother hibernation period when her grandfather had a horribleguttural coughing fit, which he got from too much smoking.Jesse was the only one of the two to stay the whole week; herdad lasted the afternoon.Except when she occasionally, cautiously, looked backtoward the entry way to watch for him, she sat quite still. Sheknew the chances were slim, but she was hoping he would atleast come to the funeral. Jesse had called him last night at hisnew apartment once the arrangements had been finalized, andshe nearly begged him to come. He had agree to be there, butnow she was thinking that those were just words without anymeaning.Finally, Jesse caught sight of her Dad in the lobby that sitsjust outside the main church. He seemed uncomfortable, and72was anxiously searching the rows of benches for her when aman touched him on the elbow, whispered in his ear, andpointed at Jesse. Her father came forward in a rapid walk, andas he walked his shoulders hunched forward, forming a cave,protecting him from the sharp glares of the people in the pews.There were no secrets in a town that size, and everyonewas well aware of the tension between those two men. Theyhad seen it all, heard it all, in the drugstore and in the bank.Everyone her grandfather's age believed that they knew wherethe problem lay, and they were certain it was Jason, Jesse'sfather. They could not be convinced otherwise. They sided withher grandfather.When he had reached the front and he sat down quickly,hardly acknowledging Jesse. In his profile, Jesse cou Id see thebeads of nervous sweat on his receded forehead, and his eyeslooked angry, not sympathetic or sad. Jesse knew that he hadprobably only come because of her.During the funeral, Jesse heard the minister speaking, butafter the first of many prayers, and psalms, and other suchrituals she forgot about the service, about her grandfather, andabout her father, too. She noticed the carvings of fruit andangels on the wood of the lectern and the pulpit, and she noticedhow the shapes continued up to the ceiling, constantly intertwin-ing, to the borderthat went all around the room. Each shape wasdifferent, and she noticed in places the border carvings showedBible stories. There was one of the Last Supper, and anotherof Moses and the Red Sea, and above the lectern Christ wascarved on the crucifix. The wood border seemed to bind thewalls together, supporting them, making them strong.When the choir began to sing, Jesse came back to thefuneral, and she looked at her grandfather lying in the bronzecasket, with the peach velvet upholstery, his gray head restingon a plump matching pillow. Because herfathersaid he was toobusy, Jesse had made arrangements with the funeral director,and she had picked that casket because its golden hue re-sembled the sunsets that her grandfather had loved.She remembered that as a little girl she would look throughhis photo albums, and they would be filled with hundreds ofsunset pictures, all taken from the same picture window of hishouse. Her grandfather never talked about them, but when her73/grandmother was alive, she had told Jesse that her grandfatherhad always fen there was something special about a sunset,and as soon as he got a camera, he began taking pictures ofthem on days when something great happened. There was thesunset of the day her parents had married, of the day she wasborn, and,fitting Grandpa's sense of humor, even one of theday Nixon Resigned.When the funeral was over, the funeral director came overto Jesse and her father, and ushered them out. When Jessewheeled around out of the pew, she saw just how crowded thechurch was. Jason may not have liked his own father, but it wasclear he was loved by others. There were many with red-stained cheeks, and a few women with velvet cloche hats cryingto their embroidered handkerchiefs. Through their minds asthey saw Jason walk down the aisle, went the episodes ofargument that were so well known.On the way to the graveyard, Jesse sat silently in the carwith her dad. They had moved out of the parking lot and ontothe road, and they were well through town before anyonespoke.Nice service, huh, Dad," said Jesse, watching his face tosee how he would answer. A voice was not enough, when itcame to her father, because, even though he could disguise hisvoice, his face revealed too much.His answer, Yeah ...fine" came out uncaring, but the flutter-ing of his eyelids, and the bitten bottom lip, told something else.Jesse believed her father loved Grandpa Emerson in someway, but she couldn't understand why he refused to show it. Heseemed to hold everything back like he was afraid that if thewords or the emotions were allowed to begin spilling out hewouldn't be able to shove them back in fast enough, and theywould all be out, for everyone to see. Grandpa Emerson wasthat way, too, like with the sunsets. He would let people seethem, but he would never talk about them, never let anyonereally understand them, or him. Jesse thought that was whythey fought so much, because neither one ever understood theother.A little while later, when they had reached the cemetery,Jesse stood by her father at the gravesite. Itwas bleak outside,as is customary for March, and even though it was late after-74noon, the sun was nowhere. The wind repeatedly whipped astrand of Jesse's hair into her face , and it blew on the poor flowerarrangements of pink and green until they tipped over. Theminister tried to speak many more kind words, but the windcarried them away, and they were lost. It didn't matter to Jesse;she was cold, and wanted to go, and the words were the samespoken at the church, only different in a way.When the entire service was finally over, several membersof the town came to give their condolences, saying what a fineman Reynold had been, and how he had been such an asset tothe town, and so on, but to Jesse the words seemed pointless,seemed to have no meaning. They sounded cliche', and themore she heard, the more she wanted to go. The crowds wouldslip past her father with a condolence of pursed lips, and moveright to Jesse, spilling themselves to her alone. She feltoverwhelmed, and finally, able to escape the swarms, Jesseand her father drove back to the church in silence.She picked up her car at the parking lot, and she decidedto meet her father at Grandpa Emerson's house. As he droveaway, she went into the church to pick up some of the flowers.There were many beautiful ones arranged with carnations, androses, but to Jesse it seemed odd to have such life at somethingso full of death. Without the casket they seemed out of placepositioned on the floor, framing an empty space, so, withoutreally thinking, she arranged the ones she wasn't going to takefarther about the large room. When her work was complete theroom seemed transformed, it was more beautiful now, morepleasing to her; now that death had gone.When Jesse got back to the house, she could smell the foodher father was cooking in the kitchen. She went to the doorway,and leaned against the dark wood doorframe, watching him. Hestood by the stove, bent over, elbow on the counter-top, hipagainst the cabinets, spatula ready and waiting. His face wasto the wall, hid from Jesse, but standing that way he looked wornout. She thought that maybe finally he was hurting, that he wasupset, and she felt the need to go to him. But at her first,emotion-filled step, though, the green, cracked linoleumsqueaked, and her father bolted upright, and attended thehamburgers frying in the pan."Oh good, you're finally home," spoke her father light-75heartedly. "I hope you're hungry, cause your grandpa's gotabout fifty pounds of frozen meat down in that freeze we'regoing to have to do something with."Jesse, embarrassed and disappointed at the same time,sank into one of the old wobbly kitchen chairs, and softly repliedto her father that she wasn't hungry. She was embarrassedbecause she had foolishly pretended that there was something,some expression, in her father; disappointed because therewasn't."Do you want any cheese on your burger?" questionedJason, but not hearing a reply, he turned to her, and saw hisdaughter with her forehead resting against her propped-upfists, her eyes closed. He went to her and rubbed the middle ofher back. After a few moments, he said to her, "Honey, I knowyou loved Grandpa, but everyone, well, everyone dies. You ...youhave to let him go.""Grandpa?" Jesse said, confused, "You think this is aboutGrandpa?" Looking at him, she shook away from his touch andstood up. "This is about you, Dad! I'm upset at you! I don't seehow you can be this way about your own father's death."Herfather looked away from her stare and escaped into thedining room, yelling, or rather emphatically stating over hisshoulder, "He's my father, and I can be anyway I would like!Don't lecture me, Jessica, on my father, you have no idea howdifferent we are.""You're not different from him!" Jesse yelled, following himinto the other room. 'You're exactly the same! Neither of youwould give in! Can't you for once let your guard down! Thenyou'd be different!"The room became silent, and she saw her father standingat her grandfather's picture window, standing with his handsagainst the cold glass, and staring out into the evening westernsky.It was only for a moment, but Jesse thought that she sawthe glint of a tear on her father's cheekbone, but when he turnedaway from the light it was gone again. He walked into thekitchen, brushing past her, his face down, and in clearing histhroat, he quietly asked, "So ..do you want cheese?"Jesse walked over to the window. This is the one out ofwhich her grandfather had picked so many sunsets. So many76great, important days. The sun hadn't been out from the cloudsall day, today. Fitting, Jesse thought.The outside seemed so still, but one glance at the darken-ing, swiftly-moving clouds, showed that it was cold, and a stormmight be coming. They were safe, though, here in the space ofGrandpa's sturdy walls, and they were protected by the stormsoutside. What supports were there for the storms inside,thought Jesse.77

The Storms of Outside Do Come Within

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The Storms of Outside Do Come Within

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