Lay My Body Down
Grief is stubborn and wild, like an untamed animal.
Sometimes you have to let it run all over the place until it wears itself out.
- Motherland
To whatever end.
Manon stood on a veranda of the ashram, ocean dropping beneath her like a fractured jewel, glinting in the moonlight. The stock market had been good to her grandfather it would seem. His 30% stock in the family company didn’t hurt either. Wealth bled through every inch of this place, the elegant buildings and beautiful trappings and lovely people who were just ever so happy to be here. Cassius may have burned his life in Miami to the ground, abandoned it all the day his youngest daughter moved out to go to college, but the same snake lived beneath the new skin.
The king is dead, long live the king.
God, the cynicism of Matron’s Miami tasted like iron in her mouth. Bloody water.
A numb exhaustion, fueled by jet lag and too many nights treated like an extension of her days, pounded against her forehead as Sri Lanka’s wet heat clung to her body. She’d landed 30 minutes ago and felt like death. Just a little longer. Manon gritted her teeth and swallowed it all down. Just a little longer …
“Excuse me, Ms. Blackbeak? Your grandfather has just finished evening meditation. He’s ready to see you now.”
She bit back the response of he fucking better be. Elide would be proud. Asterin would be disappointed.
Following the sweet young woman who had no clue about the blood Cassius had spilled and burned and lost to be here, Manon entered his private sitting room. She thought about restraining an eyeroll and then she didn’t bother. Because it was a tasteful space – very understated, delicate accent colors and soft curtains blowing in the breeze – but grand.
Manon understood why he had worked well with Matron, once upon a time in our nasty little fairytale. Like calls to like, gilt calls to gold. If she said that out loud, she’d probably get her head ripped off. But it did get carefully filed away in a little box labeled: good to fucking know.
“Manon, welcome. What a pleasure to meet you at last.” Cassius was wise enough not to try and hug her. If had any brains, he knew her reputation. If he ever used those brains, he’d realized she would rip his fucking head off. Gesturing at a wicker chair, Cassius smiled at her, his sharp blue eyes tracking her every move. “Please, sit.”
“Grandfather.” Manon nodded to him. Recognition, not deference.
“Tea?”
“Thank you.” She accepted the cup but didn’t drink.
“You don’t like it? I know, I know, you young people and your coffee. But I find it is tea that soothes my spirit.”
Manon hoped, she really hoped, that her sudden flash of annoyance didn’t flicker across her face. She needed Cassius. His shares. His board vote. His support. To rebuild a house of cards, you need all the goddamned cards. But this motherfucker didn’t know her. He had no right to assume shit.
Judging from her grandfather’s expression, the pissed-off might have leaked through her expression anyway. Well, c'est la vie. “No,” she replied evenly, “it’s just hotter than fucking hell here.”
“I thought you Miami girls were made of tougher stuff.”
“What would you know about us Miami girls?” The sentence flicked out, quick as a snake strikes. Her grandfather felt the blow. He didn’t flinch, but she saw his fight to bury it.
A sigh. A long sigh. Maybe, one day, Manon would process the fact that this is how her mother sighs, how she, too, exhales. “Little. Too little.”
“Abandoning your family and leaving us Miami girls to pick up the pieces will tend to do that.”
“You’re angry with me.”
“I’m furious, but I don’t give a fuck about you.” So much for diplomacy.
Cassius titled his head to the side, running a hand through his thick, silvery hair, those blue eyes going as sharp as the knives Matron liked to stab in Manon’s back. “You know, you look just like your mother …”
“She’s doing well, by the way. Last I heard she was in Amsterdam, pouring whatever alcohol the city deems legal down her throat.” Manon cocked her head to the side. Smiled. Wolf teeth. “I’m not here to discuss my mother’s past. I’m here to litigate my future.”
“Manon.” Cassius’ face was calm, but his voice held iron. “If you’re here to simply talk, well, I would love to get to know my eldest grandchild. But if you want anything more, I cannot give it to you.”
“Coward.” She threw the word in his face and watched him flinch. She set the full teacup on an empty table. “You fucking coward. You ruined my mother, you know that? You abandoned your family. You left us to fend for ourselves against her. I should have listened to Asterin – coming here was a waste of time.”
Letting the disgust curl across her face, Manon went to leave the room. Time for Switzerland. Time for those fucking papers. Time for some good old fashioned blackmail. God, she was sick of the hard way.
“Asterin said that?” Cassius’ voice made her pause, right at the edge of the door.
“Allow me to rephrase.” Manon half-turned, letting him see the dark fire in her eyes. At my sharpest, bloodiest edges, I am my grandmother’s daughter. “Every single one of my sisters said that.”
+
“Good morning.” Manon dropped into the chair opposite from her grandfather. He paused, about to take a bite of toast, eyebrows going half-way up his forehead.
“Good morning to you too, Manon. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Bullshit.” Manon shot back.
“And how utterly like your mother. Mouth of a nun and the patience of saint.”
Manon just smiled, fangs out. “You summoned me. Apparently you want to talk.”
Taking a sip of tea, Cassius’ eyes tracked over the veranda where other members of the ashram enjoyed an early breakfast. “I’m surprised to see you awake so early.”
“I work for Matron. I’m not used to sleeping. Or is laying around on your ass all these years how you’ve stayed on top of the stock market.”
“Touché. Would you like coffee? Or, don’t tell me, you’ve converted to a tea drinker overnight.”
“Don’t count on miracles.”
“Coffee it is.”
Manon drank it, trying to restrain herself from dumping in the entire sugar bowl (she mostly succeeded). The headache gnawing at the base of her neck receded just an inch, barely an inch. God fucking damn.
Pouring her another cup, Cassius said, “I am curious. What does your grandmother think you’re doing right now? I’m assuming you’re intelligent enough not to ask her for vacation time.”
“Fertility treatments.” Manon snorted when Cassius choked on his tea in shock.
“Oh my – are you pregnant?”
“Fuck no, I hate children. But Matron loves the idea of a whole new brood of Blackbeaks to shove her claws in. She actually smiled as she told me to take three days.”
“Well.” He blinked. “That’s one way to handle it.”
“Now tell me, grandad. Why the hell should I be sitting here instead of going the hell home?”
Cassius’ eyes strayed to the horizon, that line of blinding blue. He lifted his teacup. He didn’t drink. “Why did you come here?”
“To tell you I’m pregnant.” Another sharp smile, the viper.
“Hysterical Manon.”
Saluting him with her coffee, Manon leaned back in her chair. Cocked her head to the side. “You know, every weekend Matron takes a new pretty young thing into her bed. At this point, at least half of Miami’s socialites have tried to claw their way to fame from between her legs.”
“Would you care to come back later when you’re awake enough to have a conversation like an adult?” Cassius snapped. And there he was, the old bastard, that son of bitch. Manon wondered when he would flick out from beneath the shield of tea and soothed spirits and quiet ashrams. Claws out, motherfuckers.
“Nah. I’m good, gramps.”
Cassius did not look … happy. Whoops. “I assumed your mother raised you better than this.”
“My mother didn’t raise me. Neither did Aunt Deliah, in case you’re wondering. I think the hippies call it free range parenting. I call it Asterin and I fending for ourselves since we were five fucking years old.” Manon tapped her middle finger against her lips, a pretty little fuck you. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Swallowing, Cassius finally said in a dead calm tone, “Your grandmother’s … proclivities are not new to me.”
“You seem pretty pissed about that for a man who claims to no longer love his wife.”
“Ex-wife. And if I seem angry, it’s because she brought home those …” Cassius swallowed down all the nasty little words, “those women in front of our young daughters. She flaunted her disgust with our marriage to our children. And frankly Manon, I can’t say your aunts enjoyed the experience.”
“Good.” Manon propped her feet up on the nearest chair (oh, looks like Cassius doesn’t like that habit either). “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t still care about her.”
“Are you always this pleasant in the morning?”
“Why? Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely.” Cassius drily replied. “Would you like breakfast? Or should we continue attempting to verbally stab each other?”
“It wasn’t an attempt on my part.” Manon grinned – her eyes had catalogued every. single. flinch.
“Breakfast it is.”
+
Later on, Manon would confess to a glass of whiskey how it felt.
Cassius ordering her buttered toast and scrambled eggs without needing to ask. Cassius quietly saying, it’s what your mother always ate when she had a long night. Cassius looking at her and trying to smile the way a grandfather would.
+
Later on, he asked her to stay.
Refilled her coffee and said, stay here. At least until tomorrow. If you’ve waited nearly twenty-nine years to make this flight, then you have a little more time. Maybe there’s enough left for you tell me what finally drove you half-way across the world. And then, in the quietest voice, I’d like to hear the story.
+
“How’s Sri Lanka?”
“I’d rather be home.” Manon exhaled.
Asterin laughed, “Only you, M.”
“You want to tangle with the old bastard?”
“He’s always been sweet to me.”
“He married Matron and mostly survived the experience. Don’t underestimate him.” Leaning on the balcony outside her room, Manon bowed her head and let the late afternoon breeze wash through her hair. “God I want sleep.”
“Well then tell Elide to stop fucking you until 4 am every night.”
That got Manon to laugh. “Go to hell.”
“Hand in hand with you babe.”
Straightening up, Manon cracked her neck and said, “I need to go. Dinner with granddad. God, fuck me.”
“There’s the charming granddaughter he can’t wait to spend time with.”
“Fuck you too. Everything okay on your end?”
Asterin paused, probably deciding on the most diplomatic way to answer that. She settled on, “Yeah. Yes. Getting there.”
“Good. I’ll call when this is all over.”
“Light em’ up.”
+
They made it through dinner without inciting an international incident, so points to Manon for keeping her temper (mostly) in check. And points to her grandfather for not rising to the bait she couldn’t help but throw out.
Despite all she had said and done, all the bridges she’d burned, in her sharpest, nastiest edges Manon remained Matron’s granddaughter.
The queen is dead, long live the queen.
Passing Manon a glass of scotch, Cassius smiled at her wince. “I’m assuming your grandmother taught you to have better taste in alcohol than this.”
“I’m at an ashram in Sri Lanka,” she replied drily. “I’ll try to keep my disappointment in check.”
“Thank you for joining Jacob and myself for dinner tonight.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” She smiled. Drank. Grinned at the burn. “I wasn’t aware you had a partner.”
“10 years, this July.” Cassius took Jacob’s hand in his own, but he didn’t drop Manon’s gaze. “I keep it quiet outside these walls.”
“Because of her.”
A nod. “Because of her.” You can fly 10,000 miles, but Matron’s iron gray eyes linger in every room. “We would marry, if I thought she would let me survive the experience.”
“Maybe I can help you with that.” Manon knocked back the rest of her scotch, set down the glass with a quiet clink.
“You mean to take on your grandmother.”
Turning her amber eyes on Jacob, Manon said, “You seem nice, but I’m going to need you to leave the room.”
“Manon – ” but Cassius had hardly snapped her name when Jacob laid a hand on his arm and gently said, “No. She’s right. You two need to talk. Come find me when you’re done Cass, I’ll be in the study.” With a gentle kiss on Cassius’ cheek, with a soft, sad smile for Manon, Jacob slipped out of the room as quietly as he’d entered.
“He’s a good man, you know. A kind one.” Cassius pinched the bridge of his nose. “I trust him.”
“I don’t.” Leaning forward, elbows braced on her knees, Manon said, “I’m going to bring Matron down. For myself. For my sisters. For my mother. For once and for all.” And Manon didn’t let her voice crack (she never cracked) – “Matron’s hurt us all too much, too many times. I will not let her take one more piece of my sisters from them. I will not let her have any more pieces of me.
You asked me, during dinner, to tell you something about my life. One real thing. I didn’t answer. But you say you trust Jacob, so you should know what I’m fighting for.”
The world paints me a thousand pictures but I see you, Elide had once whispered on a dark night amidst dark days, I see you.
And Manon looked into an old man’s eyes – his grief. God, the weight of that thing. Taking her phone out of her pocket, she clicked open the lock screen and slid it across the table. “Her name is Elide.”
Cassius picked up the phone and stared for a long time at her picture. Quietly, he asked, “Who is she to you?”
And just as quietly, Manon replied, “Well. I’m going to ask her to marry me. So hopefully the rest of my life.”
“She looks kind.”
“She is. I love her.”
“And does she love you?” In that question, Manon heard the resonance of so much pain.
“That’s my silver lining.”
“Good.” Her grandfather cleared his throat, blinked a little too fast. “Good.”
“Cassius. I need your shares in the company. I need your vote to fire Matron as CEO. The only way to stop her is to hit in one place it will hurt, to take the only thing she cares about. Her company. Her money. I’m going to burn her kingdom down.”
His eyes turned sharp. “The other board members?”
“I will make them fall in line.”
“Your cousins?”
“Ready to raise hell.”
“Good girl.”
“Fuck off.”
“You’re a lovely conversationalist Manon.”
“Mom always did call me a delight and a pleasure."
When Manon waited for his response, Cassius paused. After all this time, after all these sins, he … hesitated. Eyes on the door that Jacob walked through. When Cassius finally spoke, it was in a voice that blurred like a dreamscape. “You know, you really are just like your mother. My Lilly. You frown the same. You smile the same. I’d like to live long enough to know if you laugh the same. You have her fight. I look at you and think, there’s my daughter’s daughter.” His knuckles went white around the edge of his glass. “I love her so much, but somehow I managed to fail her in inconceivable ways.”
“I know.” When Cassius’ eyes snapped up to meet her’s – his grief, his grief, his grief – Manon said. “I know everything. She told me about Alexandrine.”
His glass hit the floor. Neither of them moved. “But … but you … you didn’t say anything earlier …”
“Her life isn’t a bargaining chip.”
“Her life.” He looked out to the place where the horizon met the water, blurred and bent and unbroken. His guilt, her mother had whispered, broken herself, his guilt-his guilt-his guilt. “Alexandrine.” The name came out like a prayer. “I called her Alex, you know. When I would hold her, just the two of us. God, how I loved her. Believe what you will of me, Manon, all the worst things are true. But I loved my daughter.
Alex was the perfect baby. She giggled in her sleep. She’d grab my cheeks with her delicate little hands. She loved it when I kissed the soles of her feet.” He watched scotch spill across the carpet, a stain. “She’d be fifty now. 5’ 10”, like Lilly. Maybe they’d dress the same. Maybe they’d do anything to look different. I sometimes wonder, what would she have wanted to be when she grew up?”
And there she lived once more, that little girl, in the space between them.
“Mom wanted to be a ballerina.”
“She told you that?”
“Mhmm. Also that she made it two dance classes before realizing she hated being told what to do.”
“Oh I remember that day.” Cassius smiled into the watercolor memories. “Eight years old and pissed to all hell. I had to go pick her up early. We got ice cream and fed ducks at the park.”
“You miss her, don’t you.”
“Always.”
“She’s moving to Venice in two weeks.” Manon looked at her nails and not at the way Cassius jolted in surprise. “Aunt Rosaline has her new address. In case you were wondering.”
“Manon – ”
“If for any reason you hurt my mother again, Matron won’t be the one burning you alive. Am I clear?”
“If I ever hurt Lilly again, I don’t know how I’ll be able to live with myself.” Cassius cleared his throat. Watched the carpet. The scotch. The stain. All this shit, all our sins. “Meet me for breakfast tomorrow in my study. We have some papers to sign.” At Manon’s look of shock (re: both eyebrows raised), Cassius quietly laughed. “My shares won’t transfer themselves. And while we’re at it, maybe it’s time to schedule a little field trip. You’ll need me in Miami when the board votes. It will do my heart good, to be there on the day you burn the witch.”
+
18 hours across the earth. Throw the dice high, throw them high. Manon watched the stars from the airplane window and felt time touch her fingers like water. She remembered everything. Wanting and losing and loving and longing, having and holding and walking away. Coming back, coming home. To her. To Elide.
I love you.
Litany and requiem. The words of her grandfather. The words of her mother. The words of her own.
Because I love her.