Chapter 16
“Didion, what day is it?”
“‘Why, it’s Christmas Day,” I lethargically quote A Christmas Carol.
“Didion, be serious.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s Sunday? Babe’s funeral?”
Sammie looks to Austin and Matt.
“Sammie, what?” I take a sip of my espresso. It is quite bitter.
“We all agree that today is supposed to be Sunday, correct?” Sammie’s voice is urgent. “We all remember arriving here Friday? The will, then yesterday, we had dinner together?”
Austin scratches his sharp jawbone with the back of a knuckle and looks at me. I look away.
I redirect to Sammie. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so.” She fans herself and walks in tight circles for a moment before rearing on everyone again. “Is everyone feeling normal?”
The answer is actually no. That feeling weighing me down gets heavier as the seconds tick by and we lose daylight on this trip.
“I feel fine, Sammie,” I lie. “Are you okay, did something happen?”
“Matt, I think you should take Nora inside. And then come back out.”
Sammie’s energy is frantic, but Matt does as she requests, looking concerned as he goes.
Easygoing Nora plods along with him and doesn’t mind the sudden relocation.
My sister refuses to speak before Matt returns, her unblinking eyes wide and rimmed with pink.
I’m starting to get worried now.
“Sammie, what’s happening?” Matt asks, sitting back down at the table.
“Okay.” She lets out a stream of air. “I went into town this morning, I took one of the bikes. And I went to Softie Creamery, and they had the specials up for Saturday. I told them, hey, you didn’t update the specials, and they didn’t get why I was pointing it out, and so then— Anyway, they said it was Saturday. ”
“Okay…?” I glance to the others, who look just as confused as I feel.
“It’s supposed to be Sunday!” she shrills.
It shouldn’t, but this makes my blood run cold.
I don’t let it show. “Okay, so a couple of stoned teenagers thought it was the wrong day. It’s summer on Mercy Island, they probably don’t even know what month it is.”
She shakes her head darkly. “I talked to people. Everyone said it was Saturday. I’m telling you, I have this weird feeling. Right here.”
She gestures at her solar plexus. Exactly where my weird feelings live.
Sammie’s eyes go even wider as they drop down my arm. “Didion?”
“Yes?”
“Didn’t you cut your hand last night?”
“Yeah—” I lift it up. Everyone looks, and a silence falls over us.
My palm is completely unmarred. The wound last night had been deep. Not that even a papercut would heal overnight, but it was the kind of injury that leaves a scar.
“I did … didn’t I?”
Matt’s analytical face concentrates, his brow furrowed. “Is there any chance you just grazed it and … I don’t know, was it … tomato or something?”
“No.” Austin shakes his head. “I saw it. If I’d cut myself that bad, I’d have kicked up a lot more fuss than she did.”
He stands and comes over to me, lifting my hand to examine it, seeing only the unblemished, lined palm as I do.
“The dishwasher is emptied. My clothes were clean this morning. The wine we drank last night is still in there.” Sammie puts a hand on her chest. “It’s all like it was yesterday morning. No evidence of last night at all.”
“Maybe Babe hired someone to come clean up before we woke up? Restock everything?” Matt suggests.
It has to be a possibility, but I think we all feel the ring of its unlikelihood.
“Birdie would have barked at least, right, if someone came in?” I challenge.
Austin and I seem to realize at the same time that he’s still holding my hand and we both pull away.
Everyone is silent for a moment, and then there’s a knock at the door.
Birdie barks.
“I’ll go,” I say, crossing the room.
I open the door to see Glady’s bright white, platinum head, and enormous, magnified eyes. In her arms, a massive basket.
Again.
“Gladys?”
She grins. “I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me without the red hair. How are you, love?” She leans forward, puckering for me to kiss her on one cheek, and then the other before walking inside.
“Gladys, you were here just yesterday,” I say, with wonder.
“Feels like it, doesn’t it? But I don’t even want to count how many years it’s really been since I saw y’all.”
I look at the others, who are all standing in a row and watching.
She sees them and says, “The whole gang! Oh, welcome home, you all.”
Austin, who wasn’t here for yesterday’s interaction, steps forward and gives her a hug, his large, vital frame making her look older and smaller than she even is. Matt hugs her hello. Sammie, eyes like saucers, is limp as Gladys gives her a squeeze.
“You all look like you’ve seen a ghost, are you all right?”
Sammie and I share a glance and then I try again. “Gladys, you didn’t need to bring another basket. We haven’t even gotten through the last one.”
“Last one? Did that damn Taylor Rae bring one by? I told her the basket was going to be my thing, your mother tasked me with it!”
Matt steps forward. “You brought us one yesterday.”
She rears back. “Don’t mess with an old lady. You’re going to start making me worry. My mother lived to be a hundred, sharp as a tack the whole time, but you never know—”
“No,” Sammie breathes. “You’re not crazy. I think we are. Thank you so much for coming by, Gladys.”
I give her a look and she makes a face back at me, one that means what do you want me to do?
“It’s so good to see you, Ms. Gladys,” says Austin. “Give that kitten a scratch for me.”
“Ha, hardly a kitten anymore. She’s almost as fat as I am.” Gladys is not fat in the least bit, but is the sort of woman who always says that kind of thing. “I’ll let you get back to your Saturday.”
Then, “Good lord, is that your mother in there?”
I nod.
She shakes her head.
I give it one last shot. “Can I see your phone for a second?” Then add, “We don’t have ours and you know our generation, always in a hurry, totally screen addicted.”
She looks baffled, and reaches into her baggy pocket and removes her phone. Hands it to me. I look at the lock screen and see the day, date, and time. Saturday.
“Did you all find your mom’s stash? You gotta be careful with that stuff. Some of those edibles will send you straight to the moon.”
“Never mind, Gladys, ignore us, we’re all a little out of sorts,” Sammie says, leading her to the door.
“All right, well, you all be well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
“For the funeral?” she says. “Goodness, it is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Sunday,” Matt answers.
“Phew. You all really got me worried. No more THC before the sun goes down, okay? Come on down if you need anything. You know I’m only a quick walk through the dunes.”
And off she goes. Just like yesterday.