Chapter Seventeen
Milo
“You can drop us off here,” I said to the driver as we neared the cemetery gates. “Thank you.”
I’d ordered the NeighborRide to take Ethel and me to see my great aunt on her birthday.
Ethel never minded taking the bus, but I hated her being uncomfortable in a metal heat-box with not enough AC in the middle of the summer.
Which always reminded me that I should have a car, even if only for her and to be able to make her trips to the park, cemetery, or stores more convenient.
Alas, I was a chickenshit with unresolved trauma.
Ethel took my hand to get out of the car and thanked the driver as well. I offered her my elbow, and accepted it as we walked through the iron gates with “Wendigo Hills Cemetery” in large letters on top.
The walkway had neatly trimmed bushes on one side, while on the other big tombstones with elaborate sculptures mixed with simpler designs from decades past. We reached the sand-colored marble of Anabelle’s grave and sat on the bench in front of it.
The left side had my great-aunt’s name and dates, and the right one had Ethel’s name with only her date of birth.
“The shade of the stone always reminded me of milky coffee swirls,” I said, recalling the first time I’d seen it when I’d visited my grandparents’ grave a few spots further when my aunt had still been alive and well.
“She liked this one best. We were in our sixties when we picked it, hoping it would wait for us a long while. And it did.” Ethel repositioned the vase that stood on Anabelle’s slab and changed the flowers in it to fresh ones she’d brought.
“She would be ninety-nine today.” Ethel smoothed the peach, flowery dress she had on that flowed around her ankles.
She’d never worn black to mourn since Anabelle had told her not to.
That she loved the wacky, colorful clothes they both wore and had asked Ethel to honor her by never changing.
“And would not let us throw a party for her.” Ethel and I always talked to the grave as if Anabelle was listening, sharing our regular daily stuff with her.
“No. She hated those.” Ethel shook her head. “She was so stubborn in her ways, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. You take after her. Once you set your mind on something, no one and nothing can stop you.”
“Doesn’t mean I pursue the things I should. Most days, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Ethel patted my shoulder. “You’re young, you have time to make mistakes. Use it unwisely.”
“That’s probably the worst advice, Ettie.”
“Nah. Annie and I did a lot of impulsive and stupid shit in our youth, well into our sixties too. Impromptu purchase of the space for the diner with all our savings was one of them.”
“And it turned out to be a great idea.”
“Exactly.” She smirked. “We had no plan, only a dream of running a diner where everyone would feel welcome and have a good lunch with lots of coffee. Even after the change into a cafe, people stayed with us.”
“I’m afraid I’d fuck it all up. Your legacy.” I fidgeted with the fraying edge of my Cryptid Café tote bag.
“Fuck that. We ran it for a long time, and if not for you, I would have sold it and it would be now another chain coffee shop, or a furniture store. You do with it what your heart tells you to.”
“I want to preserve the memory of the place, and I’m afraid I’m failing you both.” I pulled out a dust brush from the box under the bench and began sweeping the gravestone.
“Do you know why we pivoted from a diner to a cafe?”
“To keep up with the times and what was popular.”
“No.” Ethel pointed at a spot I missed. “Cooking full lunches and dinners all day required more kitchen staff and more supplies than we could afford. So making the menu smaller and focusing on coffee helped us keep the place for us and the community, but cut costs significantly.”
“Oh.” That was news to me.
“It was Anna’s idea. When everyone was expanding their offer and building bigger, we focused on the simple things, on what was important—a place for people to pause for a moment.”
“You succeeded. The cafe always felt like a relative’s living room to me—cosy and welcoming.”
“It’s that to this day, and all thanks to you, so don’t cut yourself short. I’m just worried you’re not taking enough time off. Meeting Rowan added some color to your schedule, huh?” She patted the bench next to her.
I set the brush aside and took a seat. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish Auntie could meet him, but he’ll leave the town soon and I won’t see him much anymore.” I pulled a candle out of my tote bag, lit it, and placed it on Anabelle’s side.
“Even people we know for a short time can have a lasting impact on our lives. You seem happy.” She placed a comforting hand on my forearm. “As if your sad didn’t get you for a while.”
“It didn’t.” Not all days were fully joyful; it was a fact of life for everyone, but I hadn’t gotten bouts of depression for weeks now.
Maybe Rowan was responsible, at least in part.
“Rowan let me drive his car,” I blurted out.
I was still processing what Ethel was saying.
Rowan had slotted himself into my life seemingly without changing anything, but I saw many things differently now since meeting him.
Math wasn’t as scary, and maybe even driving wouldn’t soon be either.
He swiped aside that dark cloud that seemed to be over my head a lot.
But I knew it never stayed away for long.
Ethel lifted her grey eyebrows. “How did that go?”
“We got a flat tire.”
Ethel cackled. “But before that?”
“It was nice.” Remembering the drive and the picnic, I smiled. “I was less terrified than I thought I’d be. Like the idea of driving scares me more than doing it.”
Ethel looked ahead at Anabelle’s name etched into the stone. “He’s good for you.”
“He showed me that Andrew-type guys are not the only ones out there. I’ll be ready to be open for a relationship again when he’s gone.”
“Leaving soon, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes. “Is he really going away?”
“Well, yeah, he’s in Wendigo Hills until the end of the summer only, you know this.”
“With the way he looked at you, I thought he’ll stay. He even invited you to his sister’s wedding.”
“That was great fun, and his family was nice to me, but I was there so they’d get off his back about being in a relationship.”
She gave me a disbelieving look. “Did you ask him to stay?”
“No.”
“Did you discuss it at all?”
“Yes, when we met. It’s a simple arrangement, and it will end soon.” I coudln’t believe I was explaining the fuck buddy system to my elderly aunt.
“Simple. Yes, of course,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“He has life, a job, and relatives in Chicago. He worked really hard to get to where he is in the company, and his family is amazing.”
“How about you? Would you go with him?”
“No.” I gasped. “How can you even suggest that? I have you. I have the cafe.”
“It’s your life, Milo.” She sighed. “I’m old, and the cafe is great, but it’s not the most important thing in the world.”
“Neither is Rowan.” I physically recoiled at my own words. They felt nasty in my mouth but were not untrue.
Ethel lifted her eyebrows. “Then you know how you feel.”
“Exactly. It’s gonna be fine.” Bile rose to my throat, and I swallowed it down. “We’re just having a good time.”
“He’s a worthy young man,” Ethel said as an afterthought, speaking to herself and Anabelle more than me.
I poked a hole in the corner of the tote bag with my finger. The baby blue fabric had survived a lot, but it may be time to grab a new one from the box in the staff room. I should give one to Rowan. As a goodbye gift.
“He offered to drive us today, but it didn’t feel right.”
“You can share Anabelle and your parents with him. It’s not going to diminish their memory. Probably help preserve it.”
“I talk about them, but this is sacred.” I waved at the grave. “We’re not that to each other.” I massaged my sternum where a stab of pain spread through my chest.
Ethel nodded, then shook her head. “They’ll be so proud of you. All three of them.”
“I don’t know. I’m a mess.”
She grunted. “They would also celebrate your birthday.”
“Don’t you start, Ettie.”
“It’s been twelve years since your parents passed. All we can do is honor their memory.”
“Yes. And Anabelle’s.” I addressed her grave. “I keep screwing up your pretzels. I wish you could be here to laugh at my attempts.”
“She would.” Ethel said.
“Then you’d show me how to bake them properly with the patience of a saint.” A calmness and grounding force that I now found in Rowan.
Ethel leaned forward, and the candle flames reflected on her face. “And we’d all dance to swing music until we’d run out of breath.”
For the following half hour, we reminisced about the woman we both loved so dearly—her kind heart and brilliant mind.
“Did I tell you that we picked sides of the grave based on how we slept in bed?” Ethel said.
I snorted. “Of course you did.”
“Can I have a moment with her?” Ethel turned serious. “Then we can go to the restaurant.”
I nodded, stood up, and placed a hand on Anabelle’s tombstone. “Happy birthday, Auntie.”
I walked around the graves and read the names out loud, especially those from unkempt stones, suggesting few loved ones still visited, or none at all. Who knew when had been the last time someone said their names? How quickly would my grave turn sad like that?
My legs have carried me to the plot with black and grey marble and read those names too: “Janine and Thomas Tolbit, bellowed parents. Gone too soon.” Squatting by the grave, I pulled out two matching candles in blue glass casing from my tote bag and placed them on both sides.
Lighting the knots, I recalled how we would spend time together.
All our trips and adventures had been great, but I distinctly remember the regular evenings after school, or weekends at home when it would rain and we’d play board or video games, then watch a movie.
“I miss you guys.” I sat down on the trimmed grass and sighed.
“Not every day. Not anymore. But I still wish I could know you as an adult, and for you to see the rest of the world as you planned.”
The rustle behind me announced Ethel approaching.
“Do you need a moment longer?” she asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I sniffled and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “No. I’ll visit them again soon.” On the anniversary of their deaths. It had become my way of spending the week surrounding my birthday, and I wasn’t planning to change that.
Our ride dropped us at The Hoof and Claw, Anabelle’s favorite restaurant where she’d always wanted to eat for special occasions.
We ordered vegan lasagne and apple tart.
Even Ginny, the centaur owner, sat with us for a moment to chat about Auntie, knowing damn well why we were at this particular table on this day.
Patting her belly, Ethel downed the rest of her red wine and smiled. “Take me to the cafe.”
“It’s closed.”
“Exactly.”
We walked the short distance from the restaurant, and I let us in through the back entrance with the key that was always on my house ring.
Ethel opened her arms and looked around. “Do you still have my chair?”
“The one at the office never moved.”
She ventured into the staff area and wheeled herself on the chair to the middle of the cafe. “Remember how we used to race on these?”
“It was my favorite thing after closing time. That and the leftover pastries.”
“Anabelle would be so proud of you and how you run the place.” Ethel kissed her fingers and touched them to a framed photograph on the wall of her and Anabelle in their forties during a party evening at what was then a diner and is now the cafe.
“Thank you. I hope so.” I doubt it. “How about some green tea?”
“Oh yes. Are the cards in the usual drawer?” Ethel asked.
“Yes. The same two decks. I’ll bring them over.”
Ethel settled herself in an armchair by a round table big enough for our game to spread our cards. With tea and tiny packets of pretzels, we delved deep into the game.
“When’s your math exam?” Ethel asked, spreading several cards on the table and reaching for a new one from the upturned deck.
“Next Wednesday. Rowan helped me prepare for it so I don’t feel doom and gloom about it anymore.” I should talk to him about my money problems too. He’d know what to do. I pulled a card from the deck. “Hey, you’re trying to distract me.”
Ethel cheated as usual, but to this day, I’d never figured out how she did it.
Author’s notes:
Ethel reminds me so much of my grandma. She was a badass. Miss her always!