“The first time I met Mother Abigail, I was nine years old,” Delores said. “My father brought me here. He made me put on my best Sunday dress, and he actually helped comb my hair. It was after my own mother had died. Three days after the funeral.” Delores took a breath and then continued, “Daddy worked for the Montgomery’s at the factory in town. The Montgomery’s paid for Mama’s funeral because we had no insurance. They invited us over to offer their condolences.” Delores stared at Mother Abigail as she told the rest of her story. “I remember coming into this parlor and standing right here. I remember thinking I could never live in something so beautiful. Feeling envy for the first time in my life was terrible for me. Especially after the death of my mother.” Delores said this to her daughter instead of Mother Abigail, and Delilah could see the pain in her eyes. As she continued, she was no longer able to look at either of them. “Mother Abigail wasn’t married to Charles Senior then. He was a widow.”
“We were dating. Charles was going to be my husband; he had already proposed. Please stick to the facts.” Mother Abigail offered. “I lived here. This was my home.”
Delores sighed. “Right. She was here with Charles Sr. that day we came. The perfect hostess.”
Mother Abigail smiled in remembrance. Delilah didn’t see anything for her to be proud of. Marrying into money was now Delilah’s biggest shame.
“We were served a nice meal, and Charles Sr. took my father out to the garden his wife once had, and they talked. It was the first time I was alone with Mother Abigail. I’ll admit that day changed me.” Delores met Abigail’s cruel stare with a cool one of her own. “I had lost my mother, I was needy for mothering, and Mother Abigail stepped right in. She told me she would be rich and famous one day. That I could be too if I worked hard like she did. She told me about growing up near the reservation outside of the Cove, and in poverty. How my mother and her were friends as children. It’s how she met Charles Sr. Asked me all kinds of questions about my father and mother. I was a child. Like I said, I lapped up the attention but didn’t understand her intentions.”
“You still lap up the attention,” Mother Abigail quipped.
“Yes, I do. As do you. Right?” Delores looked at her daughter. “That’s her poison. She befriends you, makes you think she wants you in her life, and then she finds leverage to use against you. It’s what you did to my mom. My mother was a secretary for Charles Sr. at his law firm. Seven years after I was born, and while Charles Sr. first wife was dying from cancer, he and Mama started their affair. Abigail worked in the firm as an intern while going to college. The way I heard it, my mother got Abigail into the youth charity scholarship program. The same scholarship you received, sweetheart. Abigail and your grandmother were the first recipients from the Mayfairs and Montgomery’s. But Mama chose to take a job to support her family while Mother Abigail continued for her education. And that’s how Abigail found out about the affair Mama was having.”
“Wait.. wait for a second,” Delilah said.
“Follow along, sweetie. She’s about to get to the good part,” Mother Abigail drawled.
“It was because of the affair between Mama and Charles that your grandfather, my father, got a better job at the company,” Delores continued. “Abigail betrayed Mama. She waited two years before she made her move. She put pressure on Mama to end the affair. She would tell the entire town, including Mama’s church and husband, what she had done. Mama quit, and Charles pursued her at first. This made Abigail even more desperate to separate them.”
“Careful Delores, don’t mix facts with fiction. You weren’t there,” Mother Abigail said.
“I’ve had the majority of my life to understand my mother and you. I know the truth. This is my truth. So you let me finish!” Delores said.
Abigail continued to smirk.
“Mama was different, living in fear, and Abigail was part of her paranoia. She was a cancer. Now here is something you don’t know, Delilah. Your grandmother didn’t die from a car accident.” Delores walked over to the chair and sat down. “She killed herself. She parked her car in the woods and took a gun, and put it in her mouth. She killed herself.”
“What?” Delilah gasped. “What?”
Delores looked directly at Mother Abigail. “Charles and my father decided together to not tell everyone. Daddy told me it was Abigail’s idea on how best to avoid the scandal. It was the first time Abigail covered up a murder. But it was not the last.”
“I did you a favor,” Mother Abigail said.
“You killed my mother,” Delores said.
“That’s not true,” Mother Abigail snipped.
“Oh, it is. I spent my life studying you, learning you. Stupid enough to want to be you. It is true. You manipulate and use people. You used Mama’s trust and her shame to get what you wanted. You may have been smart. You may have been pretty. But you were never what Charles Sr. wanted. Were you Abigail? That’s why Mama felt so desperate because you knew Charles wouldn’t let her go and marry you, so you got in her head that she’d lose me and everything else when my father found out. That shame destroyed her.”
“Your mother was married! She lived a lie,” Mother Abigail said.
“Get the hell out of my house now!” Delilah said. She stood over Abigail. “Get the hell out!”
“Careful, don’t push me,” Mother Abigail warned Delilah. “You better tell your daughter why I’m really here. This history lesson was nice, but she needs to hear the truth from you. Now.”
“Ma?” Delilah said.
“Sit down,” Delores told her daughter.
“I’m confused. If Mother Abigail was so cruel, why did you want to be her?” Delilah asked. “If she did all of these things, why did you... let me... why? What is this really about?”
“Who else did I have in this town to look up to. The Montgomery’s were the way to happiness. A black family with wealth and power. All I had to do was grow up smart, and I’d have a future.” Delores said. “Besides. I never knew Mama’s story. Not the real story. Not at first. Daddy carried it to his grave. Abigail got close to me because everyone in town knew she was my Mama’s friend. They thought she was some kind of hero for taking an interest in me.”
Delilah frowned. “Okay?”
“Before Charles Sr. died, I was accepted into the youth program, and sponsored. He sent me on trips to D.C. and New York. He paid for my competitions.”
“Not just you dear, remember? You had a friend.”
“That has nothing to do with this. So stop interrupting,” Delores snapped. She let go another deep sigh and continued, “My daddy was doing well at the factory. He never remarried, but he was happy. Mother Abigail was popping out sons for her husband and growing more powerful in this town. People envied or worshipped her. I felt special that she was close to me. And people gave me respect because she was. We all bought into her routine. It wasn’t until Charles Sr. died that we saw who she really was.”
“And who am I? Answer that question, Delores? Am I the one that made you betray your best friend all those years ago, or your daughter when she was only ten and needed you the most? Am I? Maybe I’m not the villain. Maybe it’s your own greed and lust for my money that set this all into motion?”