by Mary Carter
“Oh,” Brad said. “Sure.” All eyes turned to Bailey.
“I’m really just here to watch,” Bailey said. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Olivia.
“I’m sorry,” Vera said. “In order for this to work, everyone must participate in full.”
“It’s okay,” Brad said. “Just say a few words about her.”
“Okay,” Bailey said. “Well. She was Brad’s aunt. She absolutely doted on Brad. She was in her seventies. She lived in a very clean and simple one-bedroom in the Riverdale section of the Bronx. It was a rental. Which is totally wild when you think about it.”
“What’s wild about it?” Vera asked.
“Because she was rich,” Bailey said. “She could have bought a place. She even had a niece-in-law who was a pretty good Realtor, if I do say so myself.”
“Go on,” Vera said.
“Well, I got my license about a year ago, and even though I mostly dealt with high-end condos and penthouses—”
“Not about you, dear. Go back to talking about Olivia.”
“Oh,” Bailey said. “Right. Well. She liked to play poker, but of course we only found that out after she died.”
“It was quite a surprise,” Brad said. He held up a deck of cards. “I brought this to honor her.” Bailey hoped she was sitting in a spot dim enough that nobody could see her expressions.
“It was a surprise,” Bailey said. “She didn’t even hang out her real calendar when we visited. And she kept a Jag in the garage we didn’t even know about. We had to sell that when we moved here.”
“Why don’t you talk to Olivia,” Vera said. “Tell her what’s on your mind.” Everyone looked at Bailey. She looked at Brad. Why was this being geared toward her? Brad was the one with Olivia issues. But Brad didn’t look as if he were about to speak.
“Well,” Bailey said. “I think we’d all like to know where she—”
“Speak directly to her,” Vera said. “As if she were right in front of you.” Bailey nodded and tried not to roll her eyes.
“Olivia. We’d all like to know where you would like us to spread your ashes. Is the Hudson River okay?”
“Bailey!” Brad was out of his seat. Olivia’s urn was sitting on the fireplace mantel. He looked as if he were about to throw his body in front of it. Bailey threw her arms open.
“Am I wrong? Aren’t we here to say good-bye? Release her? Go to the light, Olivia! Go to the light!”
“I miss the light,” Sheila said.
“Me too,” Kimmy said. Bailey was outnumbered. Chris and Ray were too busy eyeing each other to come to her defense.
“We all miss the light,” Vera said.
“I don’t,” Brad said a little too loudly. “I really don’t. Not any-more.”
“That’s because you live in the light, brother,” Daniel said.
Angel turned to Bailey. “You’ve no idea how good it feels,” she said. “I wish you could experience it.”
“Oh, I’ve heard,” Bailey said. If Bailey wasn’t mistaken, Angel had just found a polite way to tell her she wished she would drop dead.
“If you don’t mind me saying,” Vera said. “You sound a bit . . . unhinged.” Bailey looked around to see who she was talking about. They were all staring at her. Wait—they were all staring at her. They thought she was unhinged? The back-from-the-dead board thought she was unhinged? She was going to have to watch her temper or they’d see unhinged.
“I think we’ve gotten off track here,” Bailey said. “This isn’t about me. I’m just going to sit back and let you guys do your thing.”
“But it is about you,” Vera said. “Can’t you see that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bailey turned to her husband. “Brad? Tell them this isn’t about me.”
“It’s not,” Brad said. “Entirely about you.”
“It’s about your hostility,” Angel said with a huge smile, as if she were a television host picking the winner of a lottery. Bailey laughed. This had to be some kind of joke.
“Let’s all join hands and guide Olivia into the light,” Bailey said. She grabbed Sheila and Kimmy’s hands. Brad was sitting across from her in between Angel and Vera.
“You’re the one we’re trying to guide into the light,” Angel said.
“Excuse me?” This was getting ridiculous. Brad and his posse of back-to-lifers.
“The group helped me come to a few revelations,” Brad said.
“My worries aren’t about Olivia. They’re about you.” Bailey nodded as if this made perfect sense, as if she were astutely listening. All the while a hum filled her ears. Her leg took on a life of its own, shaking with nervous energy. She was absolutely going to kill him.
“Do tell,” Bailey said.
“Don’t be angry,” Brad said. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to make things right.” Brad took a deep breath. Angel squeezed his hand. “I’ve been carrying a huge burden,” Brad said.
Bailey shot out of her chair. “Don’t you think this is best handled privately?” she said.
“We’re like family,” Angel said. She put her hand on Brad’s shoulder. “We’re just here for support.”
“You are not like family. You’re not even a friend.”
“Bailey.”
She held her hand up to stop Brad. “It was nice meeting all of you. Good luck. I probably won’t see you again before you leave. Bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Brad tells us you gave up the guitar?” It was Sheila. She was looking at Bailey with definite sympathy.
“Are you kidding me?” Bailey said.
“Is it true?” Sheila said. “Did you give up your dream?”
It was a million years ago. For his twenty-first birthday, Bailey secretly bought Brad tickets to see Bruce Springsteen. It was a sold-out concert. In order to pay the high price set by a scalper, she’d sold the acoustic guitar her parents had just bought for her twenty-first birthday. For the short time she had it, she dreamed of becoming a famous songwriter. She imagined playing with Brad, taking their show on the road. But she had to have those tickets for his birthday. Brad loved the Boss. The stinky scalper kept her waiting two hours in the rain, in the dark, under a scary overpass. A drunk who was living there in a cardboard box kept growling at her. She gave Brad the tickets, brimming with pride that she’d just given him the best birthday present ever. She never mentioned the hell she’d gone through to get the tickets, and she’d even kept her mouth shut every time Brad chided her for giving up the guitar so soon. Apparently, he’d always known what really happened to it. Her mother must have told him. She was going to have to have a word with her too.
“I’m sorry, Bailey,” Brad said. “But ever since I’ve had this . . . experience . . . I keep thinking about you. Everything you’ve given up for me. And it kills me.”
“Really? Does it?”
“It does, really.”
“Then why are we here, Brad? Why did you lie to get me here? Why did I give up my job? Sell our condo? If you care so much about what I want, why are we still using condoms?” She didn’t care anymore that she was airing her business in front of strangers. They would all be gone tomorrow. It was Brad she cared about, Brad she had to get through to. He had it all wrong. He was the one who needed help.
“He’s very upset,” Angel said.
“Do you mind,” Bailey said, “not telling me how my own husband is feeling?”
“I asked them to be involved,” Brad said.
“That’s crazy,” Bailey said. “This should be private.”
“We’ve gone through something powerful—”
“I don’t want to hear it, okay? I already know how great the light is. In fact, I also know that you didn’t come back for me. That the only thing you were even remotely sorry about losing was your freaking shoes!”
“That’s a gross misrepresentation—”
“None of us cared about anything when we were in the presence of the light,”
Vera said. “It’s very powerful.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Bailey said. The more enlightened they proclaimed to be, the more juvenile Bailey felt.
“Wow,” Angel said. “I can see why he doesn’t want to have kids.” Bailey didn’t think. She heard Angel’s words and just reacted. She felt herself moving. She felt the object in her hand, heavy, cold, and smooth. She didn’t put a name to it, or to what she was doing. She heard her husband yell, but it didn’t faze her. She felt her arm pull back. She threw as hard as she could. Olivia’s urn soared across the room and smashed against the wall between the windows. Bailey braced herself for a storm of ash, a small cloud of dust, pieces of Olivia hovering above their heads before snowing to the ground and covering everything and everyone within reach. Instead, smashed shards of the urn and a deck of playing cards flew up in the air in a giant arc, like an invisible card shark playing a game of fifty-two-card pickup. When the cards finally fell to the ground, they seemed to cover every surface. The queen of hearts landed at Bailey’s feet. The queen’s eyes bored into hers with a vacant stare, much like the expression Olivia wore when she was alive. Goose bumps prickled up Bailey’s arms. Stunned, she looked to Brad for an explanation. He looked just as shocked as she did. It took Bailey a few seconds to remember why she threw the urn in the first place.
“Tell me,” Bailey said. “Tell me you did not tell this group that you don’t want to have kids.” Brad didn’t answer. He simply hung his head.
“Right now,” Kimmy said. “He doesn’t want to have kids right now.” Bailey looked at the cards scattered across the living room floor.
“Where’s Olivia?” Brad said.
“I don’t know,” Bailey said. “And I really don’t care.”
Chapter 23
PLEASE SIGN OUR GUEST BOOK!
I like to listen to the music box, but I can’t see it. My Scout leader says you shouldn’t play it all night long. I am missing a box of Thin Mints. Did you take it? You will pay for that.
Keeper’s Log
Brad
I don’t know how things have gone so wrong. Bailey is still here, at least physically. Mentally, she still hates me. I guess I don’t blame her. But I’m trying to do the right thing. I just don’t always know what that is. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Angel stay. Despite what Bailey thinks, it’s not because of me. She has a little crush on Jake. And she’s paying her way now, so how could I say no?
I don’t know where Olivia’s ashes are, and I have to be careful questioning Bailey about it. Do I think those playing cards magically appeared in the urn? No, of course not, I’m not that far gone. But maybe Olivia’s spirit influenced whoever did it. It was her way of telling us she’s found her own resting place. Okay, it sounds crazy. But no crazier than looking all over the place for her missing ashes. Every time I see a bit of dust on the furniture I think, Is that you, Aunt Liv?
On another note, I will never play Pictionary with Bailey again. She gets way too angry if I don’t understand her absurd pictures and she never gets mine, although she’s right, I don’t take it seriously.
Tree wasn’t a happy dog. And who could blame him? Daniel had abandoned him without a second thought. He likes it here, he told them as he departed. Even though she hadn’t exactly bonded with him, Bailey felt for the dog. It was traumatic being abandoned. Web, on the other hand, seemed to like having another animal around. Normally curled up in the Crow’s Nest, the cat had taken to following the dog at a safe distance. Bailey found it hilarious and thought about filming it for YouTube. Sadly, Tree had no interest in Web. Instead, he was taking his anger out on a specific patch of dirt by the patio, digging as if trying to create an escape tunnel of his own. On several occasions, Bailey had come into the kitchen to find garbage scattered about. At first she thought Vera was back, but she quickly spotted Tree’s paw prints in the ground coffee littering the floor. He had also taken to barking and whining whenever they left him outside alone. He was now sleeping at the foot of Brad and Bailey’s bed every night, snoring to high heaven.
Their first series of paying guests came with their share of baggage, and not just the Louis Vuitton kind. There were the newlyweds, who, in their eighties, kept joking they were really the “nearly deads” (oh, if only they knew Brad’s story!). They stayed in their room the entire weekend. If it weren’t for the bed creaking and the headboard continuously knocking against the wall, Bailey would have worried they had actually died up there. They insisted on breakfast in bed, and when Bailey took them their tray, she was horrified to see they were watching hardcore porn on their laptop.
Bailey was shaken, but soon comforted by Brad, who thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and finally, in shared laughter, the patch of ice between them slowly began to thaw. Besides game night on the patio, when the Girl Scouts came for a stay, Bailey finally started movie night as well. The projector jumped in a few spots, but otherwise Bailey was sure the girls enjoyed watching E.T. and eating popcorn and Reese’s Pieces. She certainly did.
That is, until one of the girls accused Bailey of stealing several boxes of Thin Mints. As if she would do that! Oh, how they turned the place upside down. Bailey was convinced it had to be one of the other girls; after all, Angel didn’t eat, Jake was always outside, and the elderly couple never left the bedroom. That left her and Brad. Brad finally paid for the missing boxes of Thin Mints, something that absolutely infuriated Bailey. She didn’t mind donating to the troop, but she thought Brad’s action was an admission of guilt. Besides, if she were to steal cookies, she would have taken the Peanut Butter Patties.
And when the Girl Scouts complained of hearing scary creaking and moaning during the night, Bailey was forced to stick to her ghost stories. And yes, it might have caused at least one Girl Scout to start wetting the bed, but Bailey had no choice. The truth—that the moans and creaks were coming from horny senior citizens—could have scarred them for life. In the end, Bailey was just as happy to see the paying customers leave as she was the freeloaders.
For the most part she had avoided seeing Jake. He was still outside in the tent, paying a nominal fee of $25 a night. In the summer, it would be a nice little extra income having people pitch tents on their property. He kept to himself, although every day Bailey would catch glimpses of him. He usually ran along the river in the morning, came in for a shower, dressed, showed up for breakfast, then disappeared all afternoon. Sometimes he took the ferry into town, sometimes he disappeared into the woods. In the late afternoon he would usually float down the river in his kayak. She would often see him chatting with other boaters or sitting on the patio reading a book. It was a whole week before he approached her again. It was a Thursday and the Girl Scouts and elderly couple had just left. Bailey had already stripped the beds and washed the sheets.
It was a gorgeous summer day, perfect for hanging things out to dry. Bailey brought her large basket and clothespins, carefully lifting one corner out at a time. If the wet sheets hit the ground, it would be game over. This was a far cry from Manhattan, where she would drop off piles of clothes at a laundry service before work, then pick them up hot, fresh, and folded in the evening. But this was nice too, out in the fresh air, hanging sheets.
“Need a hand with that?” She knew it was Jake before she even turned around. She might go as far as to say she’d been expecting him.
“Sure,” she said. She handed him a corner and a clothespin. They worked in tandem, and the sheets were hung in no time. There was something so nice about seeing the sheets sway on the line, the smell of fresh detergent wafting through the air.
“Go for a walk?” Jake suggested.
“Why not,” Bailey said. “A short one.”
“Short it is,” Jake said. He picked the upriver direction, where as you walked along there were fewer and fewer people as opposed to downriver, where Captain Jack’s ferry could often be spotted moored on this side of the river. Jake walked at a bright clip, his strong calves and back muscles slightly flexing
as he strolled.
“You remind me of Brad when he was younger,” Bailey blurted out. Jake stopped abruptly and Bailey ran into him. It was a chest-to-chest bump. Jake put his hand out to steady her, first on her waist, then resting for a few seconds on her hip.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He was speaking in a low, quiet voice, almost a whisper.
“Youth is always a good thing,” Bailey said, pulling away. “But mostly I’m referring to your sense of adventure, tackling the world on your own.”
“I hope I won’t always be on my own.”
“I’m sure there are several girls waiting in the wings as we speak.” Bailey suspected it was one of the reasons Angel was hanging around. A small smile confirmed her suspicion. “Do you want to get married someday? Have kids?” How easy the question tripped off the tongue, as if the two breezily went hand in hand.
“Of course. I can’t wait to have kids.” His exuberance caused Bailey a sensation of physical pain. She smiled through it.
“You’d have to give up some of your freewheeling lifestyle,” Bailey teased.
“That’s exactly why I’m doing this now,” Jake said. “Traveling, living out of a tent. Getting it out of my system. I figure my twenties are for exploring. Thirty to thirty-five is for love. Thirty-five is when we start trying to have kids. Loads of them. Nothing less than a truckload.” When he grinned, a dimple popped up on the left side of his face, just like Brad. God, he was cute. “I figure if I get this out of my system now—no regrets—I’ll be able to concentrate on being the best husband and father I can be. I want exactly what you two have,” he added.
“Except with kids,” Bailey said. They were nearing the end of the gravel. From here out they would be walking on grassy banks. Bailey stopped to wipe a trail of sweat from the nape of her neck. In the distance a Coast Guard on patrol waved at them, and they waved back.