Page 5 of Letting Go
I did Vivian’s hair this morning, pulling her golden locks back into a classic low chignon. A few pieces of hair have fallen loose since then, but on her, it looks intentional and effortless.
At the same time—my sister looks like a shadow of her former self.
Vivian’s prominent cheekbones are even more pronounced, making her face seem almost gaunt today. Her typically vivid green eyes that usually match our daddy’s are dull without any sparkle. I’m the third oldest out of us six Callahan siblings, but I have always been the mother hen in our family, even at times to my two older brothers. My instinct is to take Vivian away from here, away from all these people with their prying eyes, judgmental stares, and hard questions. But Vivian being Vivian insisted on doing a receiving line at the visitation. So for right now, the best way I can love my little sister is to simply stand next to her as she accepts sympathies from apparently their entire country club, the staff of every hospital Trent had privileges at, and any colleague that ever worked with him in any capacity.
My little sister’s grace has not been equally reciprocated and there are people here that should be ashamed by some of the comments I overheard today. As if my sister isn’t dealing with enough, let’s pour gasoline on the fire and gossip about how Trent died, what kind of financial situation Vivian is left with, if my sister was also having an affair, and if they were ever happily married.
“I’m so shocked. Dr. Stone was such a nice man. I don’t know what you‘re going to do without him,” some moronic woman drones on to my sister. “There will never be another man like that. Dr. Stone was the very best of all of us. What a tragedy!” Over the years, I learned some people say the dumbest things when someone dies. My sister is silent as this woman goes on and on about how much she adored Trent, and I can tell by Vivian’s face that she wants her to shut the hell up.
“Bless your heart. Thank you so much for coming. The family appreciates it so much; take care now.” With a completely fake smile, I interrupt the clueless woman and wrap my arm firmly around my sister. The woman thankfully takes the hint and moves on.
“Thanks, Sav. I don’t even know who that woman was. I know like a third of the people here, if that. Eloise looks exhausted. Do you think one of our brothers can take her home? And do you think anyone will notice if I go with her?” my sister quietly says as she leans into my side hug. I give her a small squeeze and wish I could do more in this moment.
“I say give it another twenty minutes and we call it. The memorial service was short and sweet, no reason for this part to drag on. You still need to get through tomorrow and I bet most of these people will be at his funeral. Does that sound okay?” Vivian nods and greets the next person, who apparently was a colleague of Trent’s at the hospital. At least Vivian knows this man; hopefully they possess more tact than the previous woman did. I may be aSouthern lady, but I will not save face if my sister needs me. If necessary, I’ll whip my overprotective mama bear claws out and those suckers can be sharp.
Jack steps behind us, leaning down to quietly talk to me. “Viv looks exhausted. What’s the plan? If she stands here and talks to everyone in line, she’s going to be doing this for at least another hour.” I lift my chin in agreement, but before I can say anything Jack’s face goes eerily stoic, furrowing his brows as he looks further down the receiving line. I turn to see what caught his attention, and I cannot believe my eyes.
Bianca Fucking Bishop.
After the affair came to light, Vivian told us the entire story. Like any sister would, I did my own deep dive into this woman online and sent her photo to our brothers. Bianca practices medicine in Boston, but we weren’t sure why or how often she came to Chicago; I wanted to ensure we knew what she looked like, but I didn’t think she would be callous enough to show up at the actual funeral home. I assumed she would extend enough respect for Trent’s widow and grieving young daughter, or maybe even some guilt or shame for what she did with my sister’s husband.
Apparently, we underestimated the audacity of this bitch. I can’t believe she’s standing in the lobby of Trent’s visitation. What the hell is she doing here?
My eyes widen in panic as I look at Jack—we can’t let Vivian see her. I’m about to ask Jack what we should do when my sister interrupts the doctor speaking to her, “Excuse me. I see someone I need to talk to, but thank you for coming, Scott. I really appreciate it.” My sister’s tone is cold and formal. I grab her arm to hold her in place, but she turns back and shoots a glare over her shoulder, letting me know she needs to handle this on her own so I can either walk away or have her back. I guess we’re not choosing the peaceful route of things today.
I can’t really blame her; I would probably do the same thing.
“Okay then, Viv, let’s go.” I nod and straighten my shoulders as my sister leads the way with Jack on our heels. I wish Shane was out here. I know our other brothers aren’t far, but it would be nice if my husband had my back right now too. Just before we reach the deceitful harlot, my sweet niece Eloise walks into the room looking for her mama, stopping just in front of the treacherous skank. Due to the size of the crowd, we can’t move as quickly as I would like and the floozy has the nerve to squat down to speak to my niece.
When she places a hand on Eloise’s shoulder, I see red.
While I calculate how fast I can grab Eloise away from the she-devil, Vivian executes ninja-like moves navigating the crowd and steps forward to take Eloise’s hand. “Baby, go find your cousins in the lounge. We’re going home soon.” Eloise nods, oblivious to whatever Bianca was going to say or do and runs off to find her cousins. With Jack and me right behind her, my sweet, soft-spoken, kind sister transforms into a fierce warrior before my eyes as Bianca stands to face her. “No. Absolutely not. You are not welcome here. You do not get to speak to my child. You need to leave right now.”
Bianca foolishly takes this as an invitation to start a conversation. Internally, I roll my eyes—I guess even doctors can be dumb sometimes. “Vivian, darling, I’m so sorry for your loss. I was just about to tell Eloise how great her daddy was and how much I’m going to miss my friend.” Obviously, Bianca didn’t get the memo that Vivian knows about their sordid affair. Our brother Liam appears out of the crowd and stands next to me.
“Are you? Are you sorry for our loss, or are you sorry for sleeping with my husband?” Vivian’s tone is eerily calm as though she just asked about the weather, but she is vibrating with rage. Bianca’s face falls as she realizes her secret affair is no longer sosecret. “Is your husband here? I’d love to speak with David, but I won’t do it in a hotel room like a common whore.”
“Now Vivian, please, this is not the time or place for this.” Bianca’s face blanches as she looks around to see who is listening. “You don’t understand, it’s much more complicated than that. Trent and I had a long history. We loved each other for years and I’m sorry, but we couldn’t help that we were meant to be together.” Bianca may have had more she planned to say to justify their affair, but her self-serving soliloquy is promptly interrupted by the distinct, crisp crack of a hand connecting with her cheek.
Vivian slapped Bianca right across her cheating, lying face.
The room goes silent, and time stands still for a few seconds before Jack, Finn, and Liam jump into action. “It’s time for you to go, ma’am.” Liam takes Bianca by the arm while Jack and Finn clear the crowd for them to make their way to the exit. Vivian excuses herself and beelines toward the family lounge. She makes it to the door before falling into our daddy’s arms as he and our brother Ryan pull her into the lounge, and her best friends quickly follow them. I’ll check on Vivian in a moment but first, I need to ensure the trash is properly taken out.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” I try to maneuver through the crowd as they flutter with hushed, animated whispers about the drama unfolding. I doubt their country club usually includes this kind of entertainment. I still haven’t seen a single person I actually know or even recognize today outside of our family and Vivian’s best friends from home.
I push open the doors leading to the side of the funeral home and find my brothers with a belligerent Bianca. “She slapped me! Are you kidding me? She’s lucky I don’t press charges for assault!” Bianca yells. “Get your hands off me, is that a family trait? You don’t touch me. Do you know who I am? I’m an award-winning doctor!” Bianca screeches at my brother Finn.
Oh no, she does not get to speak to anyone in my family like that.
“Now Dr. Bishop, let’s not talk about respect right now.” I cross my arms as I step in front of my brothers and right up to the woman who helped break my sister’s heart. “The extensive list of Trent’s friends and colleagues we invited to this private event did not include mistresses. I assure you it was not an oversight.”
I tilt my head to take her in fully. Bianca is livid as she glares at me, but she doesn’t scare or intimidate me. “You, Dr. Bishop, are a narcissistic piece of trash. You will not speak to my sister or to my niece ever again. Do you understand me? We all know what was going on with you and Trent, and we all know precisely why he was in front of the hotel that day, you vile treacherous wench. Somewhere in your filthy, duplicitous soul surely there exists an ounce of decorum and regret for your actions that contributed to Trent’s murder. Please tell me, Dr. Bishop, how do you sleep at night?”
“Are you kidding me? I had nothing to do with Trent’s murder! How dare you! I loved him! You don’t know what you’re talking about, you basic, boring housewife!” I know she meant to offend me, but her aim fails miserably. She reminds me of that actress Elena who won all those film awards last year and is so famous she only needs one name. Bianca is physically quite beautiful, with her smooth onyx hair, pouty lips, and slightly bronzed skin. I suspect her dark and cruel eyes are likely a reflection of her soul.
“I’m sure your husband will be so happy to hear that, you brazen hussy. You better believe I will not hesitate to call him with joy in my heart. I believe Vivian said his name was Dr. David J. Bishop, correct?” My voice’s rising inflection indicates it’s a question, but I already know all of this and so much more. “And he practices at Boston Midtown Orthopedics, right? How lovely he gets to practice with his brother and at the same practice his father founded.” Bianca pales slightly, realizing I did my research not only into whoshe is but also her husband. “That’s right, honey. I know who your husband is, who his daddy is, and both of their cell phone numbers, thanks to Trent’s phone. I’ll be using those numbers real soon too, but you need to leave before you get another Callahan sister’s hand across your face. Maybe it will take two solid hits before you can feel it with that terrible Botox. I will warn you though, out of the two of us, Vivian is the nicer sister.”
“Who do you think you are talking to? You can’t threaten me like that!” Bianca makes the mistake of taking a step toward me, which feels like an invitation to see if I can slap harder than my sister, and after growing up with four brothers I am thrilled to let her find out. Before I can respond, the funeral home doors open and two of the detectives working Trent’s case step outside.
