In early winter whilst my mother's trial was being held in L.A, I was living with Paul Trout in a tiny apartment in Queens. I had a job, working in the gift shop at the Museum of Metropolitan Art. I was happy. My mother's lawyer, Susan said she would call when the trial was over.
Months passed winter to spring and still no word from Susan. A publisher had finally agreed to publish a book of Paul's drawings. We went out to celebrate with some friends. Later that evening we came home to find Susan D. Valeris on our doorstep. She reminded me of Olivia with her arms bare in a tank top and her scarf wrapped around her head and throat like Grace Kelly.
"What are you doing here?" I asked stepping past her to put the key in the lock.
"Nice to see you too, Astrid. Can I come in?"
"Yeah I suppose," I replied, letting us inside.
"Ill be straight with you Astrid," said Susan as she sat down and lit a cigarette. "Ingrid has been found guilty and has been sentenced to death,"
"When's the execution date?" I asked a little bit shakily. Death was never something that had crossed my mind.
"30th March" she said taking a drag from her cigarette "she wants to see you"
Three weeks later I was standing in front of the prison at Corona. After the rigorous security check, the guard let me in. I saw her, her hair was down to her bum, and she looked just as beautiful as ever.
"We are the Vikings my darling" she said kissing my hair "Survivors, I will not be dead in your heart. I will always be with you. When you wake up in the morning, when you're at work, when you come home to that foul boyfriend of yours. Don't forget who I am, Astrid. Don't forget who you are"
The guards came for her at that moment; she embraced me, for the last time I smelt her violets.
"Don't forget," she whispered as the guards pulled her away.
That night her voice filled my head, her so-called advice she had given me over the past 18 years. She wasn't scared of dying. In fact she was probably proud of it.
She was going to die and everyone was going to remember her for it.
Finally dawn came. Her execution was at seven. I was allowed to see her. I came in to her chamber; the guard said I was allowed only a minute. She was wearing jeans and a blue shirt and looked just as intact as ever- this was how she wanted to go, a martyr.
She came forward and embraced me. For once she didn't smell like violets. She kissed the top of my head and my face. "I want to remember you like this, so strong. You've been the only good thing in my life, Astrid, "
As she was being taken away I realised that she had never said 'I love you'. I had long ago accepted the fact she wasn't like any other mother. Or had I? Part of me still longed to hear her say 'I love you', just once. But we don't always get what we want in this life.
I went into the witness area; I saw some of the college students who had tried to help her years before. No one could have helped Ingrid except herself.
I watched them strap her on to the table, her face expressionless. She watched as the needle slid into her arm. Being the great Ingrid Magnussen she looked death straight in the face. Soon her body relaxed, her eyelids closed and she took her last breath.