“Is she um, cupping that lion’s private parts?”
“Yes, and she said she’d only marry your father if his uh...area, was bigger than that statue.”
I mentally filed that little tidbit in the TMI file.
Naomi giggled again. “And she told me it was, too.”
I so did not need to know that.
“Jesus. Mary and Joseph,” my mother vented. “I did not say that. Okay, I did say that but, I’d had a few shots of Anisette and was a little tipsy and I couldn’t help it.”
That time I couldn’t hold back the giggle.
Naomi laughed again. “Oh, what fun we had back then.” She noticed my mother’s urn. “I sure do miss those days.”
“I do too,” Ma said.
Ma sounded so sad. I swallowed back the lump that formed in my throat and wondered if, when the time came, it would be Mel or me who said those things first. Knowing her life was over and looking back on it must have been hard for my mother. I hadn’t thought about that before and internally chided myself for being so selfish. Her death wasn’t just about my loss, it was about her loss, too.
The next picture was one of Ma with her hair chopped above her neck. “I’ve seen pictures of her with her hair short,” I told Naomi. “I’ve always wondered why she cut her hair. It was so beautiful.”
Naomi giggled again. I loved her giggle. She sounded like one of those little people from the Wizard of Oz. Ma gave her the evil eye – an old, Italian curse – and I grabbed the Italian horn – meant to provide protection from evil – dangling from my neck and rubbed it between my fingers. I smirked at Ma, and she stuck her tongue out at me.
“Oh, it’s a very funny story,” Naomi said. “Your parents were engaged, and your dad was away for some time, though I don’t remember why now. Back then ladies didn’t telephone men, you know, but your mother, she didn’t care about the rules and decided to call him anyway. The person who answered the phone said he’d left the day before to visit his fiancée. Fran was so upset because he wasn’t with her so she thought he’d found another woman. She hung up that phone in tears and told us the wedding was off, and then she locked herself in the bathroom. It took us girls an hour to convince her to come out, and when she did, she’d chopped off all of her beautiful, black curls. Your grandparents were so angry when your dad finally showed up two hours later, your grandmother chased him away with a butcher’s knife.” She giggled again. “She didn’t realize the fiancée they were talking about was her and he just hadn’t gotten to her yet.”
Ma laughed. I laughed so hard I snorted, and everyone stared at me again, but I didn’t care. “I bet that’s why she always said Dad gave the engagement ring from her wedding set to someone else. Dad said he lost it, but she always stuck to her story.”
“Lost it, my ass,” Ma said.
I snorted again and Naomi laughed too. I hoped it wasn’t because she heard Ma.
###
The burying of Ma’s remains was for immediate family only. Good thing, too, considering the cemetery wasn’t clued in on the event. Probably a procession of cars would have drawn unwanted attention from the cemetery staff.
The urn sat inside a box smaller than a shoebox and as Jake got ready to dig the hole for it, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. It was hard to comprehend that all that was left of my mother was in this tiny container and then reality smacked me in the face as Ma dictated where and how to bury her. My mother was dead, but apparently that didn’t stop her from telling me what to do. She was like a fly buzzing near my ear and I felt the urge to swat at her to make her stop.
“Hold on,” I told Jake before he began to dig. “I forgot something in the car.” I used my eyes to signal my mother to follow me and walked back to the car.
Facing the car so no one would see me talking to myself, I told her, “Mother, seriously, stop. You’re driving me nuts.” I gave myself a face palm on my forehead. “You cannot stand here.” I paused, realizing what I’d said. "Float here, I mean, and dictate how you want to be buried. I’m handling it, okay?” I opened the car door, bent down and grabbed a magazine from the floor, backed out of the car and closed the door.
“You don’t have to be so harsh, Angela. This is important to me, is all, and I want what I want. It’s my final resting place. I should have it how I want it, you know. It’s like my final wishes and you’re supposed to honor them.”
I rolled the magazine into a tube, and barely moved my lips. “Final resting place? Come on Ma, you haven’t rested for a second since you died.”
“Have so.”
Sometimes being haunted by my mother was like having a toddler again.
“Have not. Ma, listen, I’ve got this, okay. I promise we’ll do it right. Give me a break, will you? Let me say goodbye to you in peace.”
She gave me a funny look.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
“You coming, Ang?” Jake yelled.
“Be right there,” I replied. “Ma, it’s going to be fine. I promise.” I walked back to my grandparents’ plots, magazine in hand.
“Why do you have a magazine?” Jake asked.
I shook my head. “I have no idea." I dropped it on the ground.
Everyone, including Ma, watched as Jake carefully dug a small section of grass and dirt up from between my grandparents’ plots and placed the box into the hole. Each grandchild placed a flower they’d chosen from the memorial service on the top of the box. One by one we approached her remains, each of us honoring her in our own private way. Ma floated near, quietly watching. This was a heavy moment for everyone, even Ma.
Teary eyed, Jake replaced the dirt and grass on top of the box. He knew I hadn’t called the cemetery to get approval for this, so he was careful to make sure it didn’t look like the ground had been touched. After he finished, we all stood there, not knowing what to do next.
Finally John turned toward the cars and walked away while his family followed. My family did the same. I assumed Paul would follow, but instead heard him shout at his youngest daughter, Faith. “Faith, stop it. What are you doing?”
We all turned to see Faith jump on top of where Ma was buried, then stop and stand perfectly still. Paul grabbed her, held her up – I could see him trying to relax – then put her down and calmly asked, “Why did you do that, Faith?”
“Because Daddy, we have to pack Grandma in tight so her seeds will stick,” the little girl cried.
“Oh boy,” Ma said.
Paul squatted down in front of Faith. “Honey, Grandma doesn’t have seeds. You know Grandma is in Heaven, right sweetie?”
Faith was six and I didn’t think she understood the concept of death. “Of course Grandma is in Heaven, silly. Father Pat told me. I told him she couldn’t be in Heaven because she wanted to go to Chicago, but Father told me that Grandma already went to Heaven, and that what Uncle Jake buried here were special seeds that God had us plant so we can grow mommies that will be grandmas for other kids someday.”
Emily and Ma giggled, but everyone else was quiet. I thought it was a nice explanation to give a six-year-old.
Paul gave his daughter a sad smile. “Oh, I see, but why did you jump on the grass then, sweetie? I don’t understand.”
“Daddy, you know you have to make the ground right for seeds to grow. Remember when we planted that rose bush in the yard? You told me to pat the ground down or it wouldn’t grow, so that’s what I did for Grandma. So she can grow like the rose bush.”
Paul nodded, picked her up and whispered something in her ear. Faith gave him a tight hug. “I love you too, Daddy.”
I rubbed a tear from my eye and Ma curled her lips into a half smile. I pretended not to notice. She floated back over to her parents’ graves.
Paul set Faith back on the ground and we started to walk to the cars again but Faith turned back and waved to my mother.
I grinned and glanced at Josh, who saw too.
Chapter Six
It’d been a week since the
memorial, and life went on like nothing had changed for anyone. Anyone but me that is. In just a matter of seconds I went from being a woman with a mom, to a woman whose dead mother hung out while she drank stale coffee, and I couldn’t share it with anyone but my ten-year-old son, and that really didn’t seem all that appropriate.
Sometimes I thought it would be easier for her to be gone completely, so I could truly grieve, but each time I considered what that actually meant, I pushed the thought away. I didn’t know how long she’d be here, and honestly, having my mother with me as a ghost was better than not having her at all.
School was out for summer break and I knew I’d probably go to Hell for this, but I dreaded the summer. Some mothers relished this time of year, but it made me feel trapped and anxious. When the kids were younger, I had fun with them, but now that Emily was a teenage drama queen I would prefer only partial custody, like every other weekend and alternating holidays. Sadly that doesn’t happen for happily married parents. So far the kids were being unusually demanding, which made me miss my alone time even more. Jake had been out of town, back to his regular schedule of traveling most of the week, and all kids, all of the time made me cranky and a cranky Angela was never a fun Angela, for anyone.
I texted Mel and vented. “Ugh. Is summer almost over?”
“In your dreams, Ang.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“You say that to me a lot.”
“Maybe you should get the hint.”
“Have a cupcake. You’ll feel better.”
“I’ll get fat.”
“I’ll have one too. We can get fat together.”
“You’re Asian. Asians don’t have fat cells.”
“Have you seen my cousin Lu?”
“You don’t have a cousin Lu.”
“Well if I did, she’d be fat.”
“Want to meet for margaritas tonight instead of coming over in a bit?”
“Can’t. Nick is working late again. Seems to be doing a lot of that lately. Probably because the kids are home more and he hates them.”
“He doesn’t hate them.”
“Well he should. Sometimes they’re easy to hate.”
“That’s because they’re your kids. If they were mine, you’d love them and chastise me for saying anything bad about them.”
“True, but still.”
“I’ll text you when I’m ready for you.”
“K.”
I stepped back into the reality of my life...my house. Emily had her phone glued to her hand and texted God knew what to God knew whom. Her best friend, Taylor hadn’t left her side, and I started to think that instead of talking face to face, they were texting each other. She asked to go to the neighborhood pool, and I blurted out a much too excited sounding yes, even before her sentence was complete. Whoops. I made a mental note to sound less excited about her leaving the house next time.
“Geesh, Mom. Trying to get rid of me or something?”
Abso-freaking-lutely.
“Of course not, Em. Why would you think that?”
“I can tell you’re being sarcastic, you know.”
“Who, me?”
She sighed. “So can I really go?”
“Yes, Em. Just be home for dinner, okay?”
“Fine." She and Taylor went up to her room to change into their bathing suits.
It was the day I planned to go through Ma’s things, and I preferred to do it without my family around. Jake got home late last night and got up early to take Josh to the park to practice lacrosse so Mel could come over and help me.
I sent Mel a text. “The coast is clear.”
“On my way. One stop first,” she texted back.
I smiled, knowing she planned to bring cheesecake and cupcakes, because everything was better with cheesecakes and cupcakes.
As I grabbed the special “Mel and Angela” coffee cups I had made last year, she walked through my garage door into the kitchen. “Lookie,” I told her. “Our cups.” I held up the cups and made a crazy face. Mel’s cup had a picture of her wrapped in Kevin Bacon’s arms, and mine, an image of me snuggled up next to a much younger Andy Garcia. We didn’t personally know Kevin Bacon or Andy Garcia, but Mel was a wiz at Photoshop, and when she posted the pictures to FaceBook, I quickly downloaded them and had a set of cups made for each of us. It’s the little things that make life fun, and these cups made me smile every time I saw them.
“I love those cups. I told my family if they ever break one of mine, I’ll disown them.”
“It would be your only option. No one touches the cups but us. It is an unwritten law.”
She put a bag down on the counter, and snipped at me. “Do not touch the merchandise. Get the coffee and I’ll get out the yummies.”
“Yes, ma’am." I filled the coffee cups.
Mel spread out an assortment of fattening, heart-stopping, sugary bliss, puffed out her chest and smiled her best, am I the greatest friend ever or what smile. “I brought the good stuff. I figured this calls for some serious sugar.” Four extra large confetti cupcakes – Mel’s favorite – two monstrously huge red velvet, and two vanilla with cream cheese frosting cupcakes, both tied for number one on my list of diet-destroying luxuries, sat on my kitchen table, and I already felt my butt growing. Next to them was a Cheesecake Factory variety cheesecake with extra huge slices of turtle and chocolate chip. We each took a cupcake and piece of cheesecake. I chewed quietly, but Mel made orgasmic-like sounds with each forkful.
“Hmm, delish,” she moaned “So good. This is so good. I think I’m having a sugar-gasm.”
Mel had a lot of food-oriented orgasms, and felt the urge to describe them all in detail. Thankfully she’d never done that with any other kind of orgasms. Yet. “Yesterday you had an Oreo-gasm,” I reminded her. “Pretty soon you’re going to be ’gasmed out.”
“One can never have too many gasms." Her mouth was full and a little cupcake shot out. "Oh, sorry."
“Oh geez.”
She made more obnoxious moaning sounds. “I bet Nick loves it when you eat something you like.”
She stared at me. “Um, are you referencing sugar laden yummies or something sexual?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much TMI is involved in the sexual one.”
“A lot.”
“Ew. Then sugar laden yummies, definitely.”
She took a bite out of a confetti cupcake and let out an over the top moan, just to gross me out.
“Stop it. I don’t need the visual.”
We both laughed, and stuffed our faces with more sugary goodness, then chased it all down with warm, soothing coffee. There was nothing better than a sugar and caffeine high with your best friend. Not even sex. Yes, I really did say that, hard not to when you’ve just eaten a little bit of Heaven. “I so needed this.”
Mel was serious. “So how are you, really? I barely heard from you the whole time you were gone.”
“Yeah, I know. I figured it wasn’t appropriate to text during the memorial service. People might find that rude.”
“People are so sensitive.”
“I know. It’s annoying.”
“Seriously though, how are you? You put on a good game face, but I know you. Are you sleeping?” She took a hair band from her wrist and pulled her long, black hair into a ponytail.
“I’m fine, really.” I filled my mouth with a big bite of vanilla cupcake and looked out the kitchen window. “I’ve seen her, you know.”
Mel’s forkful of turtle cheesecake stopped in midair, and her mouth dropped open. She turned and peered out the kitchen window, too. “Whaaat?” She put the bite of cheesecake in her mouth, and talked while she chewed. “What do you mean, you’ve seen her? Like in a dream?”
“Nope. Like floating next to me when I’m wide awake.”
She shook her head. “You have not.”
“Yup. I have.”
“Stop messing with me, Ang.”
; “Not messing with you, Mel. I’ve seen her. Blue robe and all.” I took a forkful of her cheesecake and moaned as I chewed it, just to distract her. It didn’t work.
“Holy shit.”
I scraped the last bite of cheesecake off of her plate and licked the fork. “Pretty much how I feel, too.”
“Well.” She gulped down her coffee. “Wow.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say about it? ‘Well, wow?’ Seriously?”
“I know. I’m a little surprised that I’m speechless, too, actually.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then ran her finger through the crumbs on her plate. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Do you believe me?”
“You did not seriously just ask me that.”
I smiled at my friend. “I love you.”
“Who doesn’t? Now tell me everything.”
So I did. I filled her in on my Ma sightings, but didn’t really go into the conversations we had because only one friend in this relationship could lose their mind at a time, and since I’d already been awarded that honor, I didn’t want to push the limit with her sanity.
“Wow...wow. That’s amazing, and scary at the same time.”
“It’s not like I’m being haunted by Drew Peterson or something.”
“Drew Peterson isn’t dead.”
“He’s not?”
“Nope. But Jeffrey Dahmer is.”
“Oh, yikes. Definitely don’t want to be haunted by him.”
“Probably nobody would."
“It’s just strange. I mean, it’s my mom, and she’s dead, but she’s here.”
Mel surveyed the kitchen. “Is she here now?”
I laughed. “No. At least I don’t think so. It’s not like she comes around every day for coffee. Sometimes I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look at her, she’s gone. Sometimes we talk or actually, we bicker, like we did when she was alive. Between us, I’m not sure which is more alarming.”
“Probably the part where she’s lurking in the corner of your eye. Bickering was the norm for you two.”
Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) Page 5