Fifty-Eight—Mia
T
he next morning, I was just finishing laps—I’d done an extra ten to atone for the tube of chocolate chunk cookie dough I’d nearly polished off watching Me and Earl and The Dying Girl —when my phone rang. It was Ivy.
“Hey! Is this really you?” I panted.
“Hey. I know, we keep missing each other. But it’s Sunday, and I figured you’d either still be sleeping or doing laps, and I might catch you.”
“Just getting out of the pool. What about you? What are you doing?”
“I’m making Gran a peach smoothie, then I’m headed out. I have to go to the mortuary.”
I swallowed. “How are you, Ivy? Dumbest question on the planet, but…how are you? Really?”
She sniffed. “Hug your mom, Mia. That’s how I am.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” she said, her voice soft.
“So…the funeral,” I said. “When is it?”
“Tuesday. One o’clock. Yesterday we spent all day making arrangements and planning the service. Letting people know. I went shopping and bought Mama a dress that turns out I knew she would surely hate for all of eternity.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “I doubt that.”
“No, it’s true. I can’t believe I went to five stores searching for the perfect dress for my very particular dead mother. I thought I hit paydirt, but when I took it over to the mortuary and laid it on top of her, it was sooo wrong. Before I go back there, I’m headed over to rake through Mama’s closet. I’m hoping I’ll be inspired to make the right choice.” Ivy sniffed. “It doesn’t seem real, Mia. None of this can be real, but it is.”
“It doesn’t seem real,” I echoed.
She cleared her throat and rallied. “Anyway…and then sometime today, I have to get over to the cemetery to clean up our family lot. Gran said she’d get Everett—her neighbor—over there to do some tidying but he’s like a-hundred-and-ten, and that just doesn’t seem right.”
“Do you mind if I come?” I blurted.
“To the cemetery?”
“To your mom’s funeral?”
“What? What? Are you kidding? I would love that! But…but you don’t have to do that, Mia.”
“I want to. I really do. I just don’t want to impose…”
“Please impose! We have so much room! Yes, yes! Please, please come. Can you bring Bo?” Ivy caught herself then tried to cover with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I’m so stupid, of course you can’t. He doesn’t fly.”
“ Right…he doesn’t fly—how…how do you know that?”
“Oh, Mia. I did something so awful. I asked him to come home with me. He’d just told me about my mama and that he’d booked me on that late flight, and I just desperately didn’t want to be alone. I wasn’t thinking, and I begged him to come with me. I put him in a terrible position, and he was so embarrassed…”
“Oh, Ivy…” I said, realization washing over me.
“He told me he absolutely could not fly. But I didn’t believe him, and I pressed him, and I think…I think I’ve ruined everything. I think I drove a spike through our friendship and now he won’t answer my calls or text me back. I think he hates me.”
“Oh…Oh Ivy, that’s ridiculous, I’m sure he’s just been busy,” I said lamely because of course I couldn’t tell her what I knew. I couldn’t tell her Bo was probably within hours of Savannah as we sp oke. “If it makes you feel any better,” I said. “No one has seen or heard much of him for the last few days,” I fibbed.
“Is he okay?”
Trust Ivy to be concerned about someone else—anyone else—at a time like this. I didn’t want her to say anything else I might have to lie about so I blurted, “Ivy, my battery is nearly dead. But I’ll get on the same flight tomorrow night that you took, which gets in, what at 8:30ish the next morning?”
“I think so. 8:35.”
“Great. I’ll have Camille pick me up.”
Ivy blew a breath of shaky emotion into the phone. “Thank you, Mia. Again, this is so totally not necessary. But I can’t wait to hug you,” she said in her drawl.
“Oh, we’ll hug! I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Remember what I said,” she said.
“What?”
“Call your mama,” Ivy said. “Tell her you love her.”
“I will.” When the line went dead, emotion was stinging my eyes. It was Bo, it was Ivy and Bree, it was Mom.
I pressed the #2 on my screen—speed dial for my mother. I knew she was running, so I wasn’t surprised to get her voicemail. “Mom,” I said after her greeting. “Just thinking about you, and I wanted to tell you thanks again for the airfare. And…I just love you! I don’t think I tell you that enough, but I do.” My voice cracked, and for a moment I couldn’t say anything else. Then I rallied…a bit. “I’m leaving for Savannah tomorrow night, and I could use a ride to the airport. I’ll buy you dinner. Let me know if you can help me out, Mom. Did I say I love you? Have a good run. Hug Dad.”