Chapter 18
She flashed the keycard, and Rosie followed her in.
Shay had never been so happy to see the inside of a hotel room.
Their time at the Justice Center had reminded her how much she didn’t miss government institutions, with all their red tape and bureaucracy.
And even though she’d never been to Tijuana before and the hotel concierge continued to urge them to visit Zona Rio and the Plaza Fiesta, she had no desire to explore any of it.
Her lack of interest was unusual, but she figured it was probably just the situation.
Being here to do all things death-related for Rosie’s mom wasn’t conducive to tripping down La Revolución and sampling all this vibrant city had to offer.
Then last night had happened, and she realized there were other things at play directing her not to indulge in vacation-type activities.
Confusing things. Emotional things that had no right to be lurking in her brain.
Shay placed the full ice bucket on the side table and scanned her mind for something safe to talk about. “When the justice guy commented on your name, you said you had a good story to tell me about it…”
Rosie kicked off her Converse and dropped onto the nearest bed. “Did I say it was a good story?” She shook her head. “Turning trauma into humorous anecdotes is a bad habit of mine. I think someone said that everything becomes funny eventually, but I’m not so sure.”
“Laughter is better than tears, isn’t it?” Shay dropped some ice cubes into two glasses and took a Coke from the fridge.
Rosie smiled. “Not always. Emotional tears can detox the body.” She locked eyes with Shay. “And there are other benefits I won’t bore you with.”
“It’s not boring.” Shay poured a double measure of Abasolo whisky over the ice in her glass, and the cubes crackled. “I like the residual knowledge you’ve got from your therapy days; it’s educational.”
Rosie chuckled. “Because that’s what you want from your friend with benefits: educational tidbits.”
“Knowledge is power, right?” Shay looked away from Rosie’s intense gaze and added Coke to their glasses.
She didn’t know what she wanted right now.
Part of her wanted more time like this, and another part of her wanted to run to the nearest club to bed another woman.
“So, your story,” Shay said, ignoring her clashing contemplations.
“It’s nothing, really. And it’s kind of a downer. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I do.” Shay handed one glass to Rosie before sitting sideways in the giant armchair between the two beds and draping her legs over the edge.
Rosie tugged off Shay’s pumps and began to rub her feet.
Shay’s instinct was to pull away, but she distracted herself from the intimate gesture with a long drink.
“I’ll start with a question, if you don’t mind. Who named you?”
“My momma.” Shay’s resulting smile surprised her as the memory of her own story rushed into her mind, ready and willing to be told.
“She said that it means the Lord is gracious, but that’s not what I like about it.
I like it because my daddy wanted to call me something else, and she wouldn’t let him.
I don’t even remember what that was, or whether I would’ve liked it more.
I just remember the look on my momma’s face every time she told that story.
She was a strong, proud Black woman who fought for what she wanted, even when it was for something as simple as her child’s name. ”
Rosie squeezed Shay’s foot and smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes that made Shay want to wrap her arms around Rosie and hold her until it went away.
“That’s beautiful. I was named by a nurse,” Rosie said, shaking her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “When my mom told this story, she was strangely proud of it.”
Shay took another drink, partially hiding her face to conceal her reaction to the beginning of yet another devastatingly heartbreaking story about Rosie’s mom.
She’d learned a lot more than she needed to in order to conclude that Rosie’s mom was a piece of work who had no business becoming a mother.
But every story that Rosie told also encouraged a beautiful memory from Shay’s childhood, and she’d been wrapped up in a protective bubble of love and kindness that shielded her from the acidity of Rosie’s mom.
The worry she’d had about stirring up her own unresolved grief by coming with Rosie had been unfounded.
And more than that, it had been helpful in transforming her grieving thoughts into ones of celebration and happiness at the love she’d shared with her momma.
“Your mom let a nurse name you?” she asked, unable to hold back her judgment.
“Yep. The nurse said that Mom should call me Rosie on account of how rosy my cheeks were when I was born. Mom was still vaguely high on cocaine, so she went along with it.” Rosie shrugged.
“I always thought I’d gotten away lightly.
In my mom’s heightened state, God knows I could’ve ended up being called Mary Jane or Molly. ”
Shay flexed her feet under Rosie’s grip, which she’d tightened considerably since starting the story.
“Oh, sorry.” Rosie lifted one of Shay’s feet and kissed her toes.
She laughed. “Did you really just kiss my feet?”
Rosie shrugged. “Well, you are kind of a goddess, and they get their feet kissed all the time.”
“They do?” Shay wrinkled her nose, though she liked that Rosie thought of her that way. “Exactly how many goddesses do you know?”
“Just you,” Rosie said and glanced away as her cheeks pinked slightly.
Lord, she was adorable when she got all shy. Adorable? Since when did Shay think anything was adorable? “Have you ever thought about changing your name to change your story?”
Rosie looked up at the ceiling, as though the question had taken her deep into unpleasant memories. “Only every time Mom told that tale.”
“Is there a reason you never have?” If she’d experienced half of the things Rosie had gone through, Shay would’ve used any means necessary to distance herself from her mom, and a name change seemed a relatively simple and easy action.
She reprimanded herself almost before she’d completed the thought.
“Ignore that question,” she said. “I wouldn’t have done that or anything else to get away from my family.
They’re my blood, and I can’t turn my back on them even though they’re far from perfect.
” She shook her head and sighed. “I only have to think of all the times I’ve bailed my brothers out of bad situations, or the times I’ve done things that were detrimental to me just to help them, and all the crap I’ve put up with over the years.
I really can’t begin to wonder why you didn’t change your name or do anything else, especially with the state of my relationship with my daddy. ”
Rosie frowned. “But you joined the Army, so you did get away from your family.”
Shay pulled on one of her box braids and inspected it like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen in a long time. They were looking dry; she’d probably have to bite the bullet and spend eight hours with her hairdresser getting an inch off and having them redone.
Rosie tugged on her foot. “Shay?”
She dropped her braid and looked back at Rosie.
What was it about this hotel room that was encouraging all these deeply intense conversations?
“I was a stupid kid when I made that decision, but you’re right.
I’d convinced myself there was too much expectation on me to be some kind of light-bringer for the whole family.
I couldn’t handle it, and I didn’t want it.
I graduated from Yale and joined the Army the following week.
I met Gabe and found the friend I’d been looking for my whole life.
After that, leaving didn’t occur to me at all.
But I didn’t turn my back on my family, and I still can’t do that to my daddy even though it feels like he’s turned away from me. ”
“Maybe you need to talk to him about that.”
“Ha. Like hell I do,” Shay said. “Can we change the subject?”
“Do you think it’s weird that I’m having Mom cremated instead of organizing a proper funeral when I get home?” Rosie asked without missing a beat.
Shay shook her head, glad to be talking about anything other than the crazy thoughts running around her head. “Everybody has different ideas about that final send off, don’t they? And you said that’s what your mom wanted, so none of this has really been your choice.”
“My mom wanted some strange stuff though, right?” Rosie pulled out the paper list from her purse.
“One person’s weird is another person’s normal. It can’t be the first time someone’s had hard rock playing at their funeral.” Shay had seen it yesterday when they were at the coroners’ office and had tried hard not to react.
Rosie arched her eyebrow. “You don’t have to be diplomatic. You were desperate to laugh when I showed you this yesterday.”
“Hey, you wanted to laugh too. Your eyes went all crinkly.” Which had been something else that Shay found adorable at the time.
“Maybe. But it definitely wouldn’t have been appropriate to burst into laughter since we were surrounded by a hundred mini metal doors, each of them with a dead body hiding behind it.”
“No.” Shay shook her head rapidly. “Definitely not. Do you think you could get kicked out of a morgue for inappropriate behavior?”
Rosie winked. “Do you want to go back and find out?”
Shay blew out a long breath. “With your mom behind one of those doors?” She tilted her head slightly. “Hard pass.” She gestured to the list in Rosie’s hand. “I guess some of the requests are unusual. But it’s been a while since she wrote it. Maybe she had an updated version you haven’t seen.”