Her Last Memory

by C. A. Wittman

  * * *

  When they returned to the house, Erica retrieved a cardboard box from the bedroom closet that held old letters and photos.

  “You might want to start with this,” they said.

  Serene’s eyes immediately fell to the letter resting at the top of the pile. She recognized the penmanship. Aarav. In it, Aarav professed his love as a father to her, how proud she’d made him. Serene didn't notice the tears until they spilled onto the old paper, blurring the ink, prompting her to set the letter aside and dab the moisture off with her shirt. She and Aarav had always had a hard time seeing eye-to-eye, but Darpan coming into their life had prompted a shaky alliance between them. It was Aarav who stepped in to help her in those first days following Taylor's murder, after Ramani turned her back, leaving Serene to fend for herself legally.

  When did he give her this letter? She wondered. One of her last memories of Aarav was at that pitiful get together that Ramani had orchestrated, a final stab at trying to persuade him to come back.

  Serene closed her eyes. She could see her stepdad meditating, or quietly drinking his herbal tea while New Age music undulated the airwaves of his tiny little apartment.

  Aarav's narrow face and tidy pointy beard, Cedar's picture on his altar, next to Paramahansa Yogananda.

  Serene took a shaky breath and folded the letter back over the well-worn creases.

  45

  Serene - July 1996

  * * *

  “Hey,” Ramani called out and waved to Serene and Aarav. She sat three tables back from the karaoke stage, beneath the subdued lighting in the little restaurant. A medium-size vegetarian pizza was already waiting for them, one piece missing and consumed, a smear of grease left on Ramani's plate. She held a bottle of ginger ale and took a sip, smiling up at them.

  “What do you want to drink?” She asked. Her face was fuller and softer than usual, aglow with pregnancy hormones and hope that came from Aarav being there. Serene had managed to talk him around to coming and seeing her mother. Ramani's lips were glossy with pizza grease or lipgloss, Serene wasn't sure which, and she was wearing blue eyeshadow, which looked nice. Her thinnish curly hair had thickened and grown fully to her shoulders. Ramani looked sexy. She had a kind of Mediterranean sultriness thing going in her white knit dress that hugged her curves and showed off her new voluptuous cleavage and belly bump. Usually Ramani was in baggy overalls, which hid her growing belly.

  “What are you having?” Aarav squinted at the bottle in her hand.

  “Ginger ale.”

  “I'll have one of those,” he said, taking his seat, his eyes lingering on her. She grinned at him and called over the waiter. “Another ginger ale, and what are you having, sweetie?” She asked Serene.

  “Coke?”

  Serene waited for Ramani to make a face, but her mother only added generously, “and a coke.”

  The waiter went off for their drinks and they watched a youngish man ascend the stage. He looked nervous as he picked up the microphone and said he was going to sing “Call Me” by Blondie. There was some tittering.

  “Dude!” Someone yelled from the back, and the man's face turned crimson. But when he began to sing, Serene was surprised at how well he did. At the end of the song, he received a standing ovation and whistles of appreciation. Ramani laughed when she clapped, joy and nervousness bouncing off her features. Aarav chewed his pizza quietly and asked Ramani how Darpan was.

  “You know,” she said and waved her hand like she didn't want to talk about him tonight. Tonight was about them. Their drinks arrived and Serene slugged down her ice cold coke from the frosty glass, the ice knocking painfully against her teeth. Two more people got up to sing. Between sets, Ramani talked quickly, updating Aarav on the baby growing inside her.

  “Another boy,” she said, her eyes jumping. Aarav gave a barely perceptible nod and wiped his mouth with his napkin. The other two singers were terrible. When they finished, the waiter approached their table and told Ramani she was up. Her eyes darted over to Aarav, a spark of fear in them, but she lifted her chin and collected herself, climbing like a queen onto the stage.

  “I'll be singing “Nothing Compares to You” by Sinéad O'Conner,” she announced into the microphone. Aarav seemed to freeze. When the first bars rang out and Ramani belted the opening line in that powerful voice of hers, the room grew instantly quiet.

  * * *

  It's been several hours and fifteen days since you took your love away.

  * * *

  Serene watched one woman lean forward on her chair, her eyes widening with pleasure at Ramani's voice. Serene had forgotten what a good singer her mom was. Really good. As Ramani took on the emotion of the song, Serene felt goosebumps spray her skin from the feeling and power Ramani emanated in her performance. Her suntanned skin was coppery under the lighting, and the blue of her eyeshadow shockingly sensual as she closed her eyes and crooned out the lyrics, swaying to the rhythm. Someone whistled.

  “Sing it, Mama,” the woman leaning forward at the next table yelled out, completely enraptured.

  When Serene glanced at Aarav, she saw that he sat still as a statue, his features made gaunt and hollow in the lighting. He removed his glasses and, with a trembling hand, wiped his eyes with his napkin, then stood.

  “Where are you going?” Serene whispered.

  He didn't answer, making his way out just as Ramani opened her eyes. Her voice cracked but then fell back in tune and she shut her eyes again, squeezing them tight.

  46

  Night of the Get Together - July 15, 1996; 8:15-8:30 PM

  * * *

  "Dad's going to kill you dead for taking those," Carrie said, watching Steve grab a couple of six packs of their dad's Budweiser out of the larger box kept in the pantry.

  Serene laughed at Carrie's serious expression.

  Carrie made a face at her. "He will. Our dad goes through beer like water, and plus, he'll be pissed about Steve drinking because he's not," she made air quotes, "twenty-one yet."

  Steve stacked the packs under one arm and placed a hand on Carrie's shoulder.

  "Relax, little sis. He never looks in here. It's Mom who puts the beers in the fridge. I didn't touch his cold beer, and if he were to get suspicious, the only thing he'd suspect is Mom letting the supply run out, and Mom is so zonked out from wine every night, she'd believe him."

  Carrie rolled her eyes and gave him a pretend punch in the stomach.

  "Wanna come with us to Enzo's?" He offered.

  "And hang out with that slut, Taylor? Dude, no thanks."

  "There'll be other people there."

  "Yeah, but she'll be sucking all the oxygen out of the air like the decaying pile of shit that she is."

  "Noted, you hate Taylor," Steve said with a sharp grin.

  "Just a little," Carrie quipped. "Besides, I've got summer school, remember? I'm going to tackle that essay I have for English on what I liked or hated about our move to LA."

  "Which is it?" Serene asked.

  Carrie rocked her hand side to side. "A little of both, I guess."

  Steve headed out of the kitchen. "Catch you later."

  Serene followed him.

  "What time should I expect you home?" Carrie called after him.

  "What do you care?" Steve said over his shoulder as he and Serene moved toward the front door.

  "Enquiring minds will want to know when they get back to their castle, along with 'what happened to the beer?'"

  Steve laughed. "Tenish."

  "Tenish it is," Carrie shot back.

  As they stepped outside, Serene felt a warm feeling spread through her belly. Steve and his sister were fun together, and through them Serene got to vicariously experience what it was like to live in a normal family. Just last week, she and Steve made up. He'd taken her out for several drives in the Mustang her grandmother had left him in her will. “We can share it when you get your license,” he'd told her the first time she'd climbed into the vehicle, his face set in an a
nxious frown, and added. “I didn't know Barbara was going to do this.”

  Serene had placed her hand on his lap. “It's fine. I shouldn't have given you a hard time. I want you to have fun, like Barbara wanted.” Of course she didn't remember how she'd reacted, and a small part of her did feel a twinge of hurt. It wasn't really about the car, but about the relationship Steve got to have with her grandma, a relationship she’d missed out on. Barbara seemed like someone Serene would have liked to know. The sort of grandma she would have wanted in her life.

  * * *

  Kanani answered Enzo's door. She and Bets had walked over when Serene crossed the street to Steve's to retrieve him. Really, it was an excuse for five minutes of quick sex in his room since his parents were out for the night.

  "There you are," Kanani yelled out jubilantly. "I thought I was going to have to send out one search party."

  Bets squeezed around Kanani and grabbed Serene's hand, pulling her inside.

  "We need more backup. Why didn't you tell me Cruella was going to be here?" She said in a low voice.

  A look of slight bemusement and a tinge of leeriness advertised itself through the flickering grin on Steve's lips at Bets’ remark. You could never quite let your guard down around Taylor. Serene could hear her loud flirtatious laugh from the kitchen.

  "I thought you knew she'd be here," Serene said in the same low voice.

  "Um. No. I didn't." Bets chewed at her black painted pinky nail, glanced over her shoulder and said, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have come."

  Serene shrugged. "She's Enzo's girlfriend."

  Bets adjusted her leggings. "Was, I thought. Didn't they break up?”

  Serene and Kanani shared a look. Another thing Serene had missed in the two-week time lapse when Dora took over.

  "What?" Bets said, catching their silent communication. "You didn't know they broke up?"

  "Come on, sis. Don't let her get to you like that," Kanani spoke up, throwing an arm around Bets' tense shoulders.

  Steve strode ahead and Serene followed him, her gaze focused on his long legs, narrow waist and broad shoulders, images of their recent sexual encounter producing a flash of heat between her legs. Enzo was in his element, swaying to Italian rap music blaring from a CD player in the kitchen. He wore a white apron over his clothes and slathered sauce onto rolled out pizza dough with a cooking brush. Taylor grated cheese. She had a glass of red wine set next to the cutting board. Her blond hair fell like a soft white curtain past her shoulders, grazing her tanned arms. She wore a little black dress that just barely covered her thighs, showing off slim bronzed legs.

  "Ciao!" Enzo called out, setting down the brush and rushing over to give each of them breathy wine scented kisses on either cheek.

  "I brought beer," Steve said.

  "Ah, good. We can have it with the fish." Enzo took the packs of Budweiser and put them in the fridge. "Have some vino," he offered, reaching for two stemless wine glasses out of one of the cabinets. "Chianti, from my region."

  Steve leaned against the kitchen island, accepting the glass of wine, looking out of his depth as he so often did when he was around Enzo. Kanani and Bets followed them in, lurking near the counter by the sink, picking up their abandoned glasses of wine.

  "You sure know how fo' make da grinds," Kanani said appreciatively and took a sip of her wine.

  Enzo flashed her a smile. It was a high compliment.

  "What kine fish you get?" She asked.

  "Salmon." Enzo sang along in Italian to a line of lyrics and Taylor said,

  "My dad used to make this great salmon with grated parmesan on top."

  "Oh, yeah?" Kanani said.

  Enzo stopped singing and gave Taylor a sharp look. He shook his head with disgust. "Cheese on fish?"

  Taylor laughed, her face flushed from the alcohol. "It's delicious."

  "You never put cheese on fish," Enzo said, and Serene couldn't help but laugh at the disgust on his face. It was as if Taylor had said her dad used to serve salmon with a smear of shit.

  "You don't," he said to Serene sternly.

  "You should try it." Taylor brushed her shoulder teasingly against his, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her front teeth. Bets set her glass of wine down and rolled her eyes before walking out of the kitchen.

  "Do you need help?" Serene offered.

  "Do you want to make the salad?" Taylor said.

  "Sure." Serene went to the fridge.

  "The bathroom's around the corner," Enzo pointed, and Serene felt her face grow hot at his gentle reminder that she should wash her hands. On her way to the little half bathroom near the kitchen, Bets sidled up to her.

  "I think I'm going to bail," she said quietly. "I don't think I can take a whole night with Taylor."

  "Come talk to me in here." Serene gestured toward the bathroom with her hand. Once inside, Bets leaned against the closed door, glowering at the sink.

  "What's up with you?" Serene asked.

  Bets glared at herself in the mirror. "She's just been up to her old antics with me, and I'm not sure I have the patience for her tonight."

  Serene turned on the water, lathering up her hands. "I thought you said you didn't let her get to you anymore."

  "Yeah, well, she did something really fucked up the other day, and I don't think I can sit across from her at a table and pretend I'm cool."

  The afternoon when Serene found Taylor at her house flashed through her thoughts. The strange way she and Darpan had acted, the implication that they'd been…" Serene shut the thought down. "Don't let her ruin your night," she said instead.

  "I don't know," Bets’ mouth twisted, her words laced with uncertainty.

  "Come on, stay. If Taylor gets stupid, we can all go to my place."

  Bets said nothing.

  "Okay?"

  Finally, her friend nodded and they went back to the kitchen. Steve was telling a story. Taylor watched him, her eyes glittering with the expectation of the punch line.

  "A bunch of us were at the roller rink. Julie was so stoned, she skated up to this strange dude, thinking he was her boyfriend, and linked arms with him." Both Steve and Taylor laughed at the memory. "Then the guy smiled at her and his front teeth were missing."

  Taylor threw her head back, her throat muscles rippling with laughter. Enzo grinned, watching her with hooded eyes, and Steve's mouth turned up into a hard smile, but it seemed forced, like he was trying to make something okay that wasn't anymore.

  47

  Barbara - March 2020

  * * *

  "You shouldn't have to move," Barbara said to Cuppa, who placed a mug of Earl Grey tea, swirling with milk and sweetened with sugar, in front of her. "I could move into mom's office, and mom can have my room."

  Erica reached over, placing a hand over Barbara's, and Cuppa tutted, slipping into one of the chairs.

  "No, no, no." Cuppa said, shaking her head. "I can't have that. I love living here, but it's fine. I think it's time I move. Get my own flat." Her eyes lingered on Erica when she said this, and Barbara noticed new lines around Cuppa's mouth that hadn't been there a month ago. There were more greys in her dark hair, and it had grown out, curling over her ears. "You need to sort out your family," Cuppa added softly.

  "You are part of the family," Barbara argued, and blew on her tea, taking a tiny sip. Irritation gripped at her. How could they throw Cuppa out like this? Like, like––Barbara struggled for an analogy––like she was a pet dog who might be better off with a different owner. Barbara shook her head at the ridiculous thought and her irritation blossomed into anger.

  Once again, her mother was locked away in her room, not participating with the rest of the family. Sara and Jesse did not even want to come home. The other day there had been a high-strung emotional call from Tera, accusing Erica of perpetuating dysfunction. Erica had jumped in their car right then and drove to their dad’s, bundling up the kids and taking them straight home. But Jesse and Sara had become as strangely reclusive as their mom
. At this very moment, they were in their shared room, Sara watching a movie on her iPad and Jesse drawing pictures on the long swaths of construction paper, cut from an industrial roll kept on hand for his prolific artwork. Lately, he'd become obsessed with drawing lesbian weddings.

  His sketches and pictures were fantastically good. He'd taken after Ramani and their mother with his ability. His pieces were just as whimsical as Ramani's, in a G-rated way––Disneyish, even. Bluebirds holding up the bride's trains and squirrels dressed as waiters. The picture he drew last week was of a furious woman with purplish skin and dark, angry eyes pointing an accusing finger at the brides as if cursing them.

  “Who's that?” Barbara had asked him. He'd looked at the drawing for a while.

  “I don't know. Maybe Grandpa Ron or the government.” Barbara had thrown back her head and laughed, wondering what her conservative republican Trumper grandpa would think of Jesse portraying him as a witchy woman. But now her younger siblings were holed up, confused and hurt. Barbara felt hurt. Sometimes she felt like her mother was connecting with her, and other times she could be as aloof as Ramani. Their grandmother was a strange mixture of charm and indifference. Narcissistic was how Cuppa described her.

  Barbara lowered her voice so that her mother couldn't hear and said, "I think we've been really understanding. Cuppa doesn't need to move. This is ridiculous."

  "Oh, you are a love," Cuppa said affectionately, eyes bright with pain. "But I think maybe it's time I shove on. Think about finding a mate, start my own family."

  "Cuppa. You are family."