As long as I haven’t screwed up, it’ll be one less thing for her to worry about tomorrow. Next, I review our standing supply delivery for the next week. This doesn’t take as long as making the schedule does. Our weekly orders, for the most part, stay fairly consistent. Depending on the season, we might order more of some things certain times during the year. Since the menu hasn’t evolved too much, it’s made placing orders pretty routine.
I don’t leave until I’m done with everything Gigi laid out for me. It surprises me how tired I am when I leave. It’s not like I did anything overly physical. Not even close. That doesn’t stop me from being mentally exhausted.
Once I’m home, unless I get a second wind, I’m totally taking a cat nap before we head out to dinner. Otherwise, I’m liable to pass out face-first in a bowl of salsa. That would be unfortunate because their salsa rocks and I’d much rather eat it. Besides, falling asleep is not going to help me become better friends with anyone other than Cecil.
Knowing him, if I did pass out face-first in a bowl of salsa, he’d just scoop around my face like it was no big deal. After he took pictures for evidence of my going-out fail, of course. It’s the sign of a true friend; they give you crap about the stupid shit you do to your face and not behind your back. He might take pictures of me doing something dumb, but he would also go ninja badass on anyone else who tried to do it.
It’s sad how obvious the differences between a good friend and a crap friend are once true colors are shown.
Instead of greeting Cecil when I open the door, I say, “I need a nap,” and head straight for Heath’s bedroom.
I don’t miss the fact that Clarey is still over or that they quickly moved apart when I opened the door. As happy as that makes me, I’m on a mission, a nap mission.
Pushing the door to his room shut, I turn my back to it. Then, I walk the few steps to his bed and collapse face-first onto the mattress. Cecil knows how long it takes me to get ready so I’m hoping he’ll wake me. He loves Aho Jose’s so he won’t want to miss out. It’ll be interesting to see if he’ll invite Clarey to join us.
It’s on that thought that I promptly pass out.
“Guys, this is Trip. He’s the police officer who pulled me out of the mudslide,” I introduce.
Reilly stares at him while Kacey says, “You look familiar.”
He shrugs. “I grew up around here.”
“Did you go to private school?” Reilly asks.
He shakes his head and starts to reply but Jake does it first, pointing at him and saying, “Brendan Lowell?”
He nods. “Yep, everyone calls me Trip.”
Kacey’s jaw drops and she gives Reilly a wide-eyed look. Reilly not so subtly glares at her until she stops.
Kacey rearranges her face into an expression of innocence, then looks to Trip, “Oh, right. You were two years ahead of us.”
He blinks but doesn’t respond.
Jake stands and offers him his hand. “I’m Jake.” He motions to Kacey. “This is my girlfriend, Kacey.” Then he motions to Reilly. “My sister, Reilly.”
I jump in and say, “And you remember meeting Cecil at the hospital.” Then I gesture to Clarey. “And this is Clarey. She works with me at Lola’s.”
Trip gives a small wave and slides into the open chair next to mine.
“Thanks for coming,” I murmur, passing him a menu. “You have good timing. They haven’t taken our orders yet.”
“Thanks for inviting me. It’ll be nice already knowing folks here once I move.”
Reilly straightens, her eyes on Trip. “You’re moving here?”
He nods. “In two weeks. I took a job with FPD.”
Cecil tilts his head and asks. “FPD?”
It’s Reilly who answers, “Ferncliff Police Department.”
Trip nods again and smiles at Reilly, who blushes.
What is that about?
“Why are you transferring?” Cecil asks and I give him wide eyes. “What?” he asks, then turns back to Trip. “Was that too nosey?”
Trip laughs and shakes his head. “There was an opening for a detective position so that’s why I’m moving.”
“That’s cool man,” Jake murmurs.
“Yeah,” Kacey adds, “maybe Reilly can interview you once you’re settled.
Reilly elbows Kacey, making her go “Ooof.”
“Why would you interview me?” Trip asks.
Reilly bites her lip at his direct question so I answer for her. “Reilly works for our local news station.”
Trip’s eyes move from me to her. “That’s cool.”
Reilly is saved from having to make any sort of response by the arrival of our waitress.
Once she’s gone, Kacey looks at me and asks after Mrs. Mackey. Twisting my hands in my lap, I shake my head. “I don’t think she’s doing well at all. The reason Heath isn’t here is because he’s trying to stay close.”
She presses her hand to her chest. “Poor woman.”
Jake turns his face and presses his lips to her temple, wrapping his arm around her. Part of the reason Kacey agreed to Heath’s proposal was because of Heath’s mom. They were all tight growing up so her illness has affected them all.
Reilly nods. “Jake and I went to see her last week. I wish there was something more we could do for them.”
With a sigh, I reply, “You’re already doing it. Heath knows you guys are there for him. That’s all you really can do.”
“What’s wrong with his mom?” Trip asks.
I frown. “She has a heart condition. Heath is helping his dad take care of her right now.”
His jaw hardens. “I’m sorry to hear about his mom.”
Silence falls around the table, only to be broken by Cecil. “This is fucking depressing. Where is the waitress with our drinks?”
Typical Cecil.
I take the opportunity to change the subject to something less heavy. “I got a new car today.”
Reilly presses both of her hands to the table and leans forward. “What’d you get?”
Total reporter.
Our drinks come while I share all the details about my new ride. This starts a debate over which is superior, foreign or domestic brands. Through all of this I sit back and sip my drink. Being out in a group, with some people coupling off, it’s hard not to miss Heath. Considering where he is and what he’s dealing with it’s silly for me to even think about.
He’s sitting at his mom’s deathbed and I’m bemoaning not having my boyfriend out to dinner with me.
Clarey reaches out to touch my forearm. “Just ignore them.”
Huh?
My brows furrow. “Ignore who?”
“They’re gone. It’s okay,” Kacey adds.
Wait what?
My gaze moves around the table. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”
Clarey tilts her head to the side. “You didn’t see Gina and Molly?”
My head turns as I start to scan the area around our table. “They were here?”
Kacey nervously laughs. “Yeah, and they were both staring daggers at you.”
My mouth puckers in an annoyance. “Well, that sucks. I was lost in thought and missed the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry,” Reilly replies. “I gave them the stink eye for you until they went away.
Trip coughs out a surprised laugh. “You got some kind of feud going on with those women?”
I stare at him. “You saw them too?”
He shrugs. “They were hard to miss.”
“I’m not even joking. The whole thing with them makes me feel like I’m back in high school.”
He gives me a confused look.
“The shorter one has a thing for Heath.”
I cover my face with my hands. “I still don’t get why she’s making a giant deal out of it. He never returned her feelings, nothing, and I mean no flirting on his side, kissing, dating, nothing ever happened between them and,” my voice rises in exasperation, “she has a boyfriend.”
Jake
starts laughing, and Kacey murmurs, “It’s not funny. It has to hurt that they’d treat you like this. I thought you three were close.”
I shrug. “Other than being annoyed that they throw attitude when they see me, I can honestly say I’m over it. In the beginning it hurt, feeling ditched. I was stuck in a hospital bed wondering why my friends didn’t like me anymore. It still makes no sense. Their immaturity is beyond me. We’re grown ass women. There are so many more important things to worry about. All of this has given me a lot of time to reflect.
“One of the last conversations I had with Gina before the mudslide, I asked her for advice with what to do about Heath. I was angry at him and—” I pause to take a breath and lock eyes with Cecil. “I’ll never forget that, the way she was talking, the things she said. It was clear she thought I wasn’t good enough for Heath. That he could only be interested in me for one thing.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Jake snaps.
I let out a surprised laugh at how pissed off he sounds. It happened to me and I’m not as angry as him.
“Thanks, Jake,” I reply. “At the time what she said messed with my head.” I turn my face and gaze to Kacey. “I was comparing myself to you and none of it was healthy.”
She reaches her hand across the table for mine. “I compared myself to you after the night Jake crashed on your couch. I thought there was no way he could want plain old me in comparison to you.”
Whoa.
“I had no idea.” I pause and then ask no one in particular, “Why do we do that, compare ourselves to other people?”
Cecil brushes some nonexistent dust from his shoulder. “I don’t. I’m secure.”
I stop myself from throwing a chip at him.
“Maybe it’s human nature,” Reilly mutters, pushing her margarita from one hand to the other. “We focus on our perceived flaws. I can go all day stressing over a zit that no one but me even notices.”
While her eyes are on me, I can’t help but notice all of Trip’s attention is on her.
“This is depressing.” Cecil groans and then lifts his glass. “Here’s a toast. To the fabulous people at this table, we are all perfect in our own fucking ways.” He takes a moment to clear his throat, before continuing, “Especially Syd and Clareybell’s hair. If I do say so myself.”
Lifting my glass, I grin. “Perfect in our own ways.” God, I love Cecil.
Whatever gloom had started to descend, lifted. We ate, we drank—some more than others—and we laughed. After dinner, and dessert, we all dispersed. Clarey and Reilly both left their cars there. Cecil and Clarey came with me, but I dropped them at Clarey’s place, and Reilly got a ride with Jake and Kacey. This was after Trip offered to drive her home.
As I drive back to Heath’s place, my mind wanders back over the conversations Heath and I have had. There’s no changing the past but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn from it. When Heath first came to me, after his engagement ended, my own feelings of inadequacies stopped me from giving him a chance. He made a mistake, admitted it, but it was my insecurity that held me back.
It’s insane that Kacey was feeling just as insecure about me.
When I turn into the parking lot of Heath’s building, something catches my eye. As I get closer, I see it’s a person.
It’s Heath.
He’s sitting on the ground next to his door, his legs cocked, his arms resting on his knees, his face tipped down.
Oh God.
Mindlessly, I park, get out and move to him. His head tips up at the slam of my car door.
“Heath?”
His mouth is tight, his eyes on mine as he shakes his head. He opens his arms and clumsily dropping my cane, I sink to my knees in front of him. His breath catches as he folds his arms around me, clutching me to him.
I don’t ask.
I know.
His mom is gone.
The whole town is here. People from out of town as well. It seems like every single person she ever met came. There was no viewing, per her wishes. She was cremated, another of her wishes. There’s still a casket.
This was their compromise, and only a portion of her ashes went into it. The rest she wanted scattered in the places that our memories of her were the strongest, and the happiest.
She gave in on having a grave for him. My dad needed to know, that when it’s his time, there is a spot right next to her waiting for him. Until then, a bench will sit there for him to visit her. That’s how he’s wired.
There’s a giant tent. There’re folding chairs but not enough of them. People are standing behind the tent, and on either side of it. I’m sitting in the front row, my dad on one side of me, Sydney on the other holding my hand, or I’m holding onto hers. She looks beautiful in her black dress.
Is it wrong to notice that?
There’s a hole in the ground in front of me where they’re going to lower my mother into. But it isn’t her. It’s only part of her.
When I was in elementary school, I made a clay box for Mother’s Day one year. There’s a plain rubber band holding the lid on it now. That’s what she picked to hold her ashes inside the casket.
The luxury of knowing you’re dying is being able to decide what you want. That’s another thought tumbling around in my head: What would the eleven-year-old me think of the box he made being used for this?
There’s a framed picture of her next to the casket. It, and her casket, are both surrounded by a sea of flowers and funeral wreaths. The pastor hasn’t started speaking yet. He’s waiting for my dad to give him the signal to begin. I turn my head to look at him.
His eyes are on the picture of Mom. It’s clear by his focus that’s the only thing he’s paying attention to.
I lean toward him, putting my hand on his arm. “Dad.” He jerks at my touch and blinks before looking at me. Since her death, he’s aged a hundred years. He’s lost weight, despite the fifty casseroles now sitting in his fridge.
There are also dark circles under his eyes.
He doesn’t mean to do it but he’s been pushing me, and everyone else away. He’s replaced her as my number one worry.
“Should the pastor start?” I ask, dropping my hand.
He looks down, watching my hand as it falls. Then he surprises me by reaching for it and holding it like Sydney holds my other hand. He doesn’t say anything or acknowledge it in any way. He looks forward, catches the pastor’s eye, and nods.
“Gwen Mackey will be missed in a way that those who loved her will carry with them forever. It will come as a surprise to no one here when I say she was one of the best women I have ever had the honor of knowing. Here in Ferncliff, her health battles have not been a secret.
While she faced each struggle head on, I know that she knew her entire community stood behind her with love and support. She did not fear death. If anything, Gwen Mackey embraced it, grateful for the time she had here on earth. We should all let her be our example of love and courage. The power of her love was a beautiful thing. Her son, Heath, has a few words. I’m going to invite him up to share them now.”
I receive a gentle squeeze to my left hand from Sydney and a firmer squeeze to my right from my dad before I stand. Woodenly, I move to where the pastor stands, on the other side of her casket.
More people must have shown after I sat. There are so many of them standing, sitting, their eyes all on me. They blur, their sympathetic faces all going out of focus as I clear my throat. I haven’t even said anything but it’s so thick I have to force air into it. I look at my dad but have to look away when I see his knee bouncing. That’s his tell. If I see him cry, there’s no way I’ll be able to talk about my mom and not lose it.
I focus on Sydney, not her beauty this time, her strength. She has been my anchor in this storm from the night my mom died to now. I’m so grateful she was able to spend time with my mom.
“I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming today, even though I hate the reason. It’s selfish. I’ll be the first to admit it
, but I wish my mom could live forever. See, my mom was the center of our world.”
I hazard a glance at my dad and have to suck in a breath and look away when confronted by the tears streaming down his face. I cough and wipe at the wetness that hits my eyes in response.
My voice is thick when I go on. “A heart is the symbol of love. The muscle in her chest was not strong enough to pump out all of the love she had within her. That’s okay though. It didn’t stop her from trying, and she succeeded.
“She loved everyone and showed it. There won’t be a day that goes by that I won’t miss her. I will try, and I encourage you to as well, to live life in a way that would make her proud.” My hand trembles as I reach forward to touch her casket. Then, palm flat against the curve of its lid, I look over to her picture.
It’s one that was taken in the last five years. She picked it herself for today. Said it was one she thought she looked pretty in and she didn’t want to be remembered looking sick.
Her hair was curled, framing her face. It was stylish in a trendy mom way. She was sitting on a bench in our backyard. There were flowers blooming behind her.
I remember that day, or at least the moment right before the picture was taken. My dad had the camera; it was new at the time and he wanted to test out the lenses and modes it had. My mom agreed to be his test subject. Two seconds before he snapped that picture, she farted. Three seconds after he snapped it, she giggled and tried to blame her fart on dad.
In the picture, she looks on the verge of laughter. When she picked that picture she knew my dad and I would both remember. I’m sure she thought it would make us laugh or smile, thinking of a funny moment. Maybe in time it will. Not yet.
All it does right now is make me miss her that much more. She was sick for my whole life. How is it possible to feel like there are still things I didn’t have a chance to tell her?
“I love you, Mom. I’ll always love you.”
When I look up, Sydney and the tears rolling down her cheeks is all I see.
“Would you be okay with me selling the house?”
Jesus.
I shake my head, not in an answer but more to kick-start my brainwaves.
Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2) Page 20