Edlin
Legacy Name: Edlin

I married young. He was older, trustworthy, but most importantly wanted me to succeed. He wanted all my dreams to come true. I wasn’t really ever attracted to him, our marriage felt so unnecessary. I had no worldly experience, I thought what was happening was normal. It wasn’t abusive, he didn’t coerce me. But we should have never gone so far as marriage. I didn’t know how else to appreciate him I guess? Would he have continued his encouragement and support if I didn’t show him any romantic interest? I was called a gold digger by most of his friends and family, and I didn’t know what that meant. He told me they just hadn't got to know me yet, that what they said didn't matter to him. I spent all of my time studying and creating and almost no time at home, he applauded me on my commitment to my art. The beginning of our relationship was so forced, it hurts to look back on it.

He owned an antique store, I met him when I applied to work there as an understudy. I loved antiques and wanted to learn about the history. When we were together it’s all we talked about. How to appraise, what was this, what was that, what year, what material, what significance. Conversations about fabrics and upholstering antiques turned to my dreams of designing clothing.
My cousin, practically my brother, was starting up a clothes line. But I had no money for the fabrics, no education to put forward the quality of product Ben would require. “That’s fine” he told me “I can help you if it’s what you really dream of”. I think that support is what made me try to connect with him on that romantic scale, it wasn't something I got to experience a lot. I just thought it was what I needed to do. It wasn’t for a couple of years after our marriage when I finally felt okay about it. We made it work. It was doing well. We spent more time together, I got called less hideous names from the people he knew. Suddenly his friends were my friends. I had hats and jackets selling very well in my cousin Ben's store. Home felt like a real place for once. Something I desperately tried to grasp as a child. We never stayed in one place long. Both parents were performers, moved where the money was. I was always desperately looking for whatever was missing, I marrried a man older than my father, estranging me from my parents... well further estranging us. Loneliness would become tea in our garden, where we talked about our week. Tears of uncertainty became laughter as we watched our new kitten explore and play. We talked about kids. The future. I was good with the idea of having kids. He was worried he’d never see them grow up.

I felt all the loneliness of my childhood creep back into my soul the night he died. It had been so sudden. He had been out fishing with friends and had an aneurism. The boat was too far out in the lake. He didn’t get to the hospital in enough time for the doctors to save him. I didn’t want him to leave me. I had nothing now; no family, no loved ones. I would wonder the house crying for days. I tried reaching my parents, the first sentence uttered from my dads mouth made me hang up the phone. They were not going to help. It took me months to finally rake up the courage to call my cousin. For the first time I heard empathy. No more snide comments like: “finally getting his money”, “how much did you get in death insurance?”, “you’re sure a good actress....”, but actual empathy from someone who loved me. I forgot how loving and open Benny could be. His parents practically raised me alongside him. My parents were horrendous excuses for hippies....

Growing up with performers and artists sounds luxurious and fun, but it was usually the exact opposite. It was more fun when I was really young and my grandma Linette was alive still. I was named after both my grandmothers, Edwina my maternal grandmother, who died years before I was born. And Linette... I was almost named Daisy May, could you imagine? Granma Lin gave both Ben and I her looks: curly black hair, big feet, big nose, too tall and lanky, and I got her eyes as well. Ben got his mother's eyes. Ben and I were always mistaken as siblings. Lin was a tightrope walker. An amazing one at that, but she had hurt herself enough and knew how difficult it was to get crowds anymore to let her children or grandchildren take over. So we where taught trapeze. I honestly adore working the trapeze, now I prefer aerial silks. My father didn't believe in relaxing or breaks, or anything that wasn't perfection. He was impossible to please, and very good at letting you know how disappointing you were to him. My mother was just as a perfectionist. A ballerina and a painter, incredibly strict. They were not the great parents they thought they were. I found out quickly that when I was 'bad' the 'punishment' was going to my aunts and uncles to make costumes. I would pretend it was the worst thing they could make me do. "Oh, but, faaaather, sewing is so boooooring. And Ben is so looooud." My secret though, was that their trailer was my safe place. They would teach me how to sew, embroider, and to make pasta. Ben would play with me and we'd make up dance routines together. It was another world for me, one I would never let my parents take away from me... until they decided to move away. That was the worst day when I was told they were leaving the company. That they were going independent. It wouldn't be years later until I found out my father was in an illegal drug ring that was busted and he decided to leave before he was connected and arrested.