¤
Charlie burst into the ER waiting room carrying Cynthia’s purse. She leapt up to greet him. “Oh thank you! You’re a life saver.”
He handed the purse to her and she started rifling through it. She pulled out a small black box and looked at him quizzically. “It’s a portable charger thing. For when your phone battery gets low,” he explained.
Her eyes got wide and she kissed him hard, right on the mouth. Charlie backed away a little. “Oh!”
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was just so sweet.” Cynthia’s eyes started to fill with tears.
Charlie pulled her into a hug, her face buried in his shoulder. He held her tightly and slowly rubbed her back. Cynthia lost it. She started sobbing into his jacket. He held her steady and then maneuvered them into a pair of empty chairs. The ER was not busy, as it was after midnight. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her back, looking into her eyes. “Tell me what’s happening,” he said.
Cynthia shook her head. “I have no idea. They took her back there, and…” she shrugged. “They won’t tell me anything.”
“Well I’m sure they are very busy back there.”
“I guess. I need to let her kids know. Should I call them? It’s so late. And it’s not like there’s anything they can do. Can I just group text them? Do you think? Or no?”
“I think that’s probably the way to go. You’re not really in any condition to talk on the phone. You’ll just put them into a panic, like you did me,” Charlie said with a little grin.
Cynthia looked at him, paused, and then dug her phone out of her purse. She created a group text with Phillip, Paula, and Patrick. Their names looked so funny next to each other, all with the same first initial. “Emma is in the hospital,” she wrote. “We think she had a stroke. I don’t know anything more than that.”
She stared at the phone, waiting to see if anyone would reply at this late hour. Paula was first. “What? Which hospital? When did it happen?”
Cynthia answered the questions, then watched as the other two siblings joined in, and all of them argued about coming back. Phillip was hesitant to miss more work. Paula thought that was ridiculous and he should get right back on a plane. And Patrick was already back in his car making the drive. Cynthia had nothing to add to the conversation, but watching it play out provided a needed distraction. She held the phone so Charlie could watch as well.
“So Phillip is the oldest? The one who was at the head of the table opposite Emma?” he asked.
“Yes, and Patrick is the youngest. He was sitting next to me on the other side.”
“Right, he came in late. Okay, and which one was Paula? The one next to Phillip?”
“No. She was the drunk one.”
“Oh!” Charlie laughed. “Yeah, okay. I know exactly who she was now.”
In the end it was decided that Patrick would come right away. He could be there by early morning. Paula and Phillip were each coming alone, their spouses staying behind to take care of the kids. They were each going to research flight options first thing in the morning. As the text thread died out, Cynthia turned her attention to Charlie.
“We have guests coming today. I’ll need to be there. Plus it’s everyone’s first day back from vacation,” she said.
“It’ll be fine. Patrick can take over here when he arrives, and you can go back to the inn and get things settled,” Charlie said. “So, are there things that Emma does that you’ll need to cover?”
Cynthia thought a moment. “No. Not really. I’ve sort of taken over all the business stuff. She just tended to the gardens, and… Oh! She made breakfast every day! Oh fuck. I don’t know how to do that!” She looked at Charlie, who was wearing a smirk. Cynthia crinkled her eyebrows. “What?”
“I’ll take care of breakfast, silly,” he said. “What time?”
“She starts cooking at six. She puts stuff out starting at 6:30, and keeps it going until 8:30. It’s like a buffet,” Cynthia explained.
“Not a problem. But there are no guests right now, right?”
“Right. Oh! Yes! You don’t need to do it today, because there’s nobody there!” Cynthia was relieved at the realization.
“Okay. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be there bright and early. I’ll take care of everything,” Charlie said.
Cynthia looked at him. “Oh my God, I don’t deserve you.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s nothing. I’ll cover until she’s back to a hundred percent.”
Tears welled in her eyes again. “Oh Charlie. I don’t… Ugh. I don’t want to say this. But… It’s bad. I don’t know if she’s going to make it, much less ever get back to a hundred percent. It was so scary. She couldn’t talk and her face was droopy, and I could see her in there, in her eyes, and I could tell she was so scared, too.”
He took her back into his arms and held her as she started to cry again. Minutes passed, and the tears stopped. He was still holding her when she noticed someone was standing next to them. She looked up. It was a young woman. Her shoulders were back. There was something about her that screamed authority. Cynthia pushed out of Charlie’s arms and gave the doctor her full attention. “How is Emma?” she asked.
THIRTY-TWO
Cynthia stared straight ahead, clutching Charlie’s hand in her fist. She tried to focus on the words being spoken, but couldn’t. Every time she actually listened, her sobbing would start again. So instead she tuned out the sound and focused only on what she saw. The casket was suspended over the grave site by a shiny silver contraption. She had never seen one up close like this. There were straps going from one side to the other—they seemed to be wound around the poles on each side. She supposed after the service was over, they’d release a latch somewhere, and the casket would lower slowly on its own. There must be some sort of a flywheel or something to make it go slowly. But it just looked like four pipes. Maybe in the corners? Perhaps.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Cynthia and Emma were going to run the inn together until the end of time. Maybe she’d convince Emma to ease out of the business eventually. Take some vacations. Go visit the grandchildren. But not like this. Not all of a sudden. Cynthia did everything right. She recognized the stroke right away. She did what the “FAST” training said to do. The ambulance came quickly. It wasn’t supposed to just be over like that. The doctor said there were multiple strokes. That the one Cynthia saw was just the tremor before the real earthquake. People in California always used that stupid earthquake analogy. Who decided it made sense to live in a place with earthquakes anyway? And wildfires. And floods. What a stupid place to live. But the weather was nice. Although the fireflies didn’t light up. What was up with that? She needed to look into that. She was just taking Patrick’s word for it. Did he just make it up?
She glanced over at him. He looked so sad. They all did. Sad and alone. None of the spouses or children were there, since they had literally just left a few days before. There were five chairs in front, where Cynthia and Charlie sat with Emma’s three children. There had been a bit of a row over the seating, because Paula didn’t want Cynthia to be sitting with them. But Phillip stood up for her, and said she was family, too. And Cynthia asked Phillip if she could have Charlie with her, because she didn’t think she could handle it alone. And Phillip said that was fine. Paula had stormed off, and Patrick went after her. Now that whole mess of drama was behind them, and they all sat, listening as the preacher from Emma’s church went on and on about Emma and Phillip Senior. About the inn.
It occurred to Cynthia that the preacher might not have any idea who she was. She had never met him and had never gone to church with Emma. He seemed to know Billy, though. He had gestured toward him and the girls when mentioning the people Emma and Phillip employed. It was odd. As though in the preacher’s mind, Emma and Phillip had died together. Cynthia didn’t like it. Emma deserved her own funeral, independent of the memory of her husband. She shifted her focus away from his words again
, since he was starting to piss her off.
There were a lot of people here. She hadn’t been to a grave-side funeral before. She had been to a lot of wakes and funerals at churches, but never next to the hole in the ground like this. It was weird. She wondered who all the people were. A lot of them were Celita and Nina’s family—she was sure of that. But beyond that group, she had no idea. Probably people from church. That would make sense. She supposed she would be finding out soon enough, when this morbid ritual was over, and they all found their way back to the inn for Jell-O salad and sadness.
Cynthia had worked with other hotels in the area to transfer the inn’s reservations since the stroke happened. It was a lot of work, but the guests were all understanding. Thank God there hadn’t been any wedding parties. The last thing she needed to deal with right now was some Bridezilla. No, it was all wine tour types, and they were generally wonderful guests. Some of them had asked whether there was anything they could do. That knocked Cynthia for a loop. The kindness of strangers had a way of leaving her in tears, but in her current fragile state, it was so much more impactful. She would try to hold it together until the call was over, and then run off to Emma’s sitting room to lose her shit all over again.
She was ready for the grieving to be over, but the grieving wasn’t cooperating. She had been more emotional since the tumor came out anyway. The doctor had said that was normal. Not only from a psychological point of view—near death experience, stress, trauma, but also from a physiological one—the parts of her brain that regulated emotion through hormones had been roughed up and might behave differently for a while. Maybe forever. She didn’t love the change. It was making this whole process much, much harder.
Charlie was her rock. He would hold her as she cried. Since there were no guests, she didn’t need him to come cook every morning. But he showed up anyway. He cooked for her and Emma’s family. And he hung around the inn, simply to be there to provide support for Cynthia. She needed to step it up for him. If anyone was keeping score, she was about ten thousand points in the hole right now. Once she was through this, she planned on spoiling Charlie any and every way she could think of. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.
The preacher finally shut up, and someone put on somber classical music through tinny speakers as Emma was lowered into the ground. Next to her Phillip. Together again and for all eternity.
THIRTY-THREE
Charlie had arranged two cars with drivers for the family. He and Cynthia were in one, and the siblings were in the other. As they approached Phillips House, Cynthia was relieved they were not in her car, because there was nowhere to park. The lot was full, and cars were spilling down the street in both directions as far as she could see. She looked at Charlie, who shrugged. When they exited the cars at the inn, she could hear music coming from the other side of the building. She and Charlie waited for Phillip, Paula, and Patrick, and the five of them walked around the inn to the back yard. The smells hit her first. An exotic mix of spices and smoke. As they turned the last corner Cynthia could not believe what she saw.
At the far end of the yard was a line of grills and a huge smoker that someone must have towed behind a pickup truck. There was a large tent, and under it and throughout the rest of the yard, there were more than a dozen large tables with chairs. Next to the inn, a live band was playing classic Chicano rock. There were children running around and at least a hundred adults. She looked at Phillip, whose face shared the same bewildered expression as her own.
“Tía!” Celita yelled, and ran over to greet them.
“What’s all this?” Cynthia asked.
“Buelita’s Fiesta, of course! Hey Frenchy, you know how to cook a tamale? My cousin could use some help over there,” she said, pointing at the line of grills.
“No, but I’m sure I can figure it out,” he said. He leaned in and kissed Cynthia on the cheek, and then he strode across the yard to join the men on grill duty.
“What… how…” Cynthia stammered.
“My cousin has a rental business. He can put together a thing like this in an hour.”
“And who are all the people?”
“People from Emma’s church, and my family, mostly. Billy brought his girlfriend! Did you know Billy had a girlfriend?”
Cynthia took in the crowd. There were clearly two distinct groups. The Baptist congregation was wearing summer suits and dark dresses and was mostly standing. Celita’s family was dressed more casually and was mostly sitting. There was food everywhere. There were the Baptist Jell-O salads and meatballs and pasta salads, and the Mexican-American street corn and tamales and beans. The band was loud and the people were louder.
“I guess we should mingle,” Phillip said.
“I guess so,” Cynthia agreed, and the group split up and filtered into the crowd.
Cynthia was looking at the selection of beers on ice near the band when an older, weathered woman pulled her into a bear hug. “You must be Tía!” she said.
“Sometimes,” Cynthia said.
“I’m Maria. Celita and Nina are my girls,” she explained.
“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you! The girls are wonderful. Such great employees. We are very lucky,” Cynthia said. “This is amazing.”
“I’ve been talking to some people from Emma’s church. When Celita told me what happened, I reached out right away. Did you see the ofrenda?” She gestured to the back porch where there was a pedestal with a large picture of Emma, and what Cynthia could only describe as offerings.
“Oh! That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Celita said she really loved gardening, so we put some flower pots up there, and the rake, see? And then there’s the food and drink, of course.”
Cynthia was mostly unfamiliar with the Mexican rituals around death, other than a general awareness that it was less somber and more celebratory. “That’s very nice,” she said.
“We will start the novena tonight,” Maria said. “You know the novena?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Cynthia said.
“Nine days of prayer. After someone passes. We help get her settled in the next place,” Maria explained.
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
Maria smiled. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
Cynthia then met all of Celita’s “cousins,” a word she was starting to think might mean something different in this family. How could one person have that many cousins? She made no attempt to remember anyone’s name and eventually ended up sitting with a group of old men sharing a bottle of tequila. The men were not talking much, and when they did, Cynthia couldn’t understand a word they said. But they kept her shot glass full, and she was soon feeling quite relaxed. The Chicano rock was growing on her. They played a cover of “La Bamba,” which was the only song she recognized. The old men informed her that the band was more “cousins.” Because of course they were.
Charlie came over to the table with a plate full of food. He placed it in front of Cynthia and then pulled flatware and a napkin out of his back pocket to complete the table setting. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.
“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest!” Cynthia slurred. “Um… maybe water? Are you joining me?”
“Can’t. They need me on kitchen duty. We’re in the weeds over there.” He looked at the line of grills. “Literally and figuratively. I’ll be right back with the water.”
He strode off toward the band, and Cynthia looked at the feast before her. She was hungrier than she realized. She barely noticed Charlie coming back to drop off the water, before he was gone again. “That fella is okay, huh?” one of the old men asked.
“He’s more than okay,” she said. The old man smiled and toasted with his tequila shot.
Cynthia was halfway through her plate and starting to feel a little full when Nina appeared next to her. She crouched down, and Cynthia was startled to see right through her cleavage, all the way to the glinting jewel in her navel. “Well hello!” she said
.
Nina laughed and then asked, “Hey is that Patrick single?”
“Patrick? Yeah, but Nina, he’s much too old for you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. He’s handsome. And he looks strong. Is he strong?” she asked.
“I suspect he is,” Cynthia said.
“I’m gonna get him to dance with me,” she said.
The old men all watched Nina sashay away from the table, walking a bee line toward Patrick. One said something in Spanish, and the others laughed. Cynthia didn’t understand what was said, but she had a reasonably good idea.
¤
Cynthia excused herself from the Knights of the Round Table, as she had decided to refer to her collection of old men with tequila, and went to her room to use the bathroom and freshen up. As she came back into the lobby, she noticed Paula sulking on the couch. She sat next to her. “How are you holding up?” Cynthia asked, putting her hand on Paula’s knee.
Paula’s gaze was fixed on the stairs. “How old is that girl who cleans the rooms?”
“Which one?” Cynthia asked.
Paula cupped her hands and held them in front of her chest. Cynthia laughed. “Oh! That’s Nina. She’s… I don’t know. Maybe nineteen I guess? Why?”
“She and Patrick just disappeared up those stairs like a couple of horny teenagers. I don’t think they saw me here. I blend in with the furniture.”
Cynthia turned to look at Paula’s outfit, and she did, in fact, blend in with the furniture. Her dark suit wasn’t precisely the same color as the dark blue couch, but Cynthia could now see how she had missed her there when she came in from the bright outdoors, and her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted.
“What’s the rule? Half your age plus something?” Paula asked.
“Plus seven, I think,” Cynthia replied.
“Right. Half your age plus seven. That girl isn’t even in the envelope for him.”
“Can you imagine the babies those two would make?” Cynthia said.
Paula nodded. “It’d be a family of aimless supermodels.”
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