3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Maci
I can’t go back to sleep after we hang up. Instead, I prepare for a long weekend in Bull Creek, starting with emailing my recent clients about a delay due to a family emergency. While packing a suitcase, I make sure to pick the perfect dress for the service.
Lunch with Nana would’ve been a day trip, including the two-hour drive each way. Now, it makes more sense to stay in Bull Creek at Nana’s for the weekend.
The sun chases my Jeep as it rises behind me when I eventually head for Bull Creek. Twisty roads, single-stoplight towns, and spotty reception greet me on my drive. This road has been calming in the past, offering a peaceful, often uninterrupted expanse of road, perfect for daydreaming. Today, each mile heightens my anxiety at dealing with Stephanie and Alan, my step-father, and facing this heartbreaking loss.
I choose soft music to fill the background of my thoughts, emotionally ill-equipped to deal with love songs or heartbreaking lyrics. When I lose signal on the back roads, I’m forced to switch over to the radio from my streaming app, adjusting the station as I drive in and out of coverage areas.
By the time I reach the east outskirts of town, I’ve been subjected to at least three self-indulgent radio hosts. Three too many for my liking. More coffee would help curb my building frustration, but my travel mug is empty. Instead, silence reigns when I smash my finger on the radio power button, ceasing the incessant chatter.
There are three whole stoplights in Bull Creek. I turn left at the second, where River Road and Main Street meet, and head south. Then it’s a right at the first to drive across town and back into the hill country to Nana’s house.
Dread fills my insides the closer I get to my final turn. I have half a mind to turn around and head straight for a bar. At last check, there were only two to choose from. Stephanie’s reproachful voice echoes in my head, speaking of obligations to be fulfilled.
Obligations.
As if this is nothing more than a task on a to-do list. For her, it likely is.
Still, the promise of an ass-chewing isn’t what keeps me moving toward Nana’s house. There is nowhere I’d rather be than honoring Nana’s life, even if I would prefer to mourn her in relative peace. Something that will never be achieved with my mother and step-father around.
Mature oak trees line the driveway, greeting me at the entrance, and lead directly to Nana’s farmhouse. Alan’s Mercedes is parked next to Nana’s older Toyota on the gravel near the house. My Jeep settles behind her sedan, but I don’t get out.
I wait for the echo of the drive to vacate my ears and then take in my reflection. Swollen eyes stare back at me from the rearview mirror. Crying intensifies the vibrant green of my irises, an uninvited positive. Soft brown hair is falling from the loose bun I secured it in. I refresh it quickly, somewhat out of habit, in an effort to give Stephanie less to pick at. Ten months of no contact and her years of grooming still affect me.
The deep breath I take before exiting with my purse in hand does nothing to prepare me for what I’m about to endure. Nothing can.
This is gonna hurt like Hell.
As if they’ve been watching, Stephanie and Alan open the front door, not bothering to step out on the covered porch. Instead, they create a bottleneck where they want me to enter, but won’t move unless I ask. I say nothing.
“Hi, honey,” my mother greets me with emotionless words.
Alan and I eye each other, but neither of us speak. It’s better that way. His usual look of contempt is frozen in place. Without further preamble, he walks into the kitchen.
I don’t know why he bothered to come to the door except to give me another dirty look.
Stephanie backs up robotically for me to enter. Her programming right on time she asks, “How was the drive?”
She doesn’t care and we both know it.
Pick your battles.
I swallow deeply. “It was fine.”
It’s my turn to look her over. Loose, blonde hair shines against her black outfit of mourning, a trend I’ve no doubt she’ll maintain for her stay. Her cold mannerisms and polished appearance couldn’t be further from Nana’s warmth. I’ve never been to the house she and Alan share now, but I assume it’s modern, sterile. Similar to the house we lived in when I was a teenager. Nothing like the cozy embrace here.
Voices drift in from the kitchen, but all the sounds of normal life in this house are gone. The TV isn’t on with Nana’s favorite reality shows. There’s no giggle as she thinks of some random funny thing to share with me, something I grew used to during all of my school holidays and summer breaks spent here.
“Who’s here?” My voice cuts through the tension as my mother continues to stare at me .
She lifts her chin. “Your Aunt Randi and your cousin Olivia.” Liv’s name sounds odd coming out in full, even though it doesn’t surprise me when my mother uses her given name. She clears her throat. “I didn’t mention it on the phone because it didn’t seem pertinent at the time.”
Her nails make a clicking noise as they flick against each other, drawing my eyes down. I’ve never seen her fidget. “Your Aunt Randi was the one to…find Mother.”
My jaw drops before I can stop it. I snap it closed. She blinks, but her face is otherwise composed, her body still again.
“I’ll let you put your things away. We can gather in the kitchen and discuss what comes next.” In typical Stephanie fashion, she turns sharply, exiting to the kitchen before I’ve responded.
I inhale until my lungs are uncomfortably full. The distinct scent of Nana’s house rushes through me and I’m hit with an aching wave of nostalgia. Home-cooked meals, paperback books, and her subtle perfume envelop me simultaneously in a blanket of comfort and longing.
Nana will never wrap me up in her arms again and the scent will fade with time.
Despite the bodies seen and unseen here, it feels empty. Terribly empty.
Turning toward my usual room, I decide to get my bag later. The small foyer and narrow staircase separate the living room on the left from the hallway on the right, where the downstairs bedrooms and bathroom are.
I set my purse inside the first doorway on the right. A tattered stuffed bear with a red shirt sits on the queen bed. The sunflower quilt beneath him was handmade by Nana. My chest aches.
Venturing deeper into the hallway toward my grandmother’s room, I drag my fingers along the wall. A tiny part of me still hopes to find Nana reading on the bed atop her plush, coral duvet, but she doesn’t look up and smile as I enter. That image will forever live in my heart.
Fixed in her doorway, I peer around the quiet room. It’s entirely too still.
On the nightstand are a cup of water and two books. A bookmark peeks out of the one on top. A feeling of intruding tingles within as I step into the room, lifting them gently. Still, I clutch the books tightly to my chest. These are some of the last items touched by Nana’s loving hands.
A crater threatens to burst open in my chest and I force it closed. “I miss you already, Nana,” I whisper into the vacant room.
I grab the clear cup on my way out and set the books on the foot of my bed before continuing through the house to the kitchen, where everyone is congregating. Atop the stairs is a secondary living area, which Nana used as a small home office, as well as the main bedroom. I don’t have to guess if Stephanie and Alan have already placed their things there. The only way to the kitchen is through a hidden hallway behind the staircase.
“Hi.” My voice comes out weaker than anticipated as I set the glass by the sink and move to the dining table. I haven’t seen my aunt or cousin since summer when we celebrated Nana’s birthday. It makes me both wildly happy and desperately sad to see them now. Unlike Stephanie, Liv and Randi are warm, comforting people, much like my grandmother. Holidays and events were always easier with them around.
They stand and meet me halfway, the three of us squeezing each other in a smothering embrace. Randi brushes a few wispy hairs back from my face and looks me over and with an equal measure of love and sadness. Much the way one would expect a mother to act.
Alan is reading a newspaper, of all things, mostly oblivious to our presence. Stephanie stares silently out the dining room window into the backyard. She turns to us blankly as her sister's tears flow freely. I remind myself to keep my shit together for the sake of my grandmother’s soul.
“I can’t believe she’s gone…” Randi recounts finding Nana without prompting as Liv strokes her mother’s sandy hair. “I stopped by to make dinner with her. She naps frequently, so I wasn’t surprised she was in her room.” Her voice breaks with a sob and she shakes her head fervently. “I couldn’t wake her.”
Stephanie turns to look out the window again. Her voice is ice. “According to the coroner, it was a heart attack.”
Silence falls in the room.
Except for the turning pages of the newspaper.
My medium is photographs. I’m shit with anything else, unlike Leah who has a gift for melding any scrap of metal into stunning jewelry by hand. Without a camera, I’d be lost. Still, my mind’s eye creates a painted canvas image of this moment. Gold Baroque frame, muted hues, a woman in black staring out the window. A tiny metal label: A Study of Mourning .
Stephanie’s voice breaks the silence before long. “Alan and I have hired a caterer for the lunch reception here, following the graveside service.” Well, that was fast.
“Thank you. I think people will appreciate that.” Randi sits again, wringing her hands together on the table. I seat myself next to her and lean my shoulder against hers, hoping to infuse some emotional support into her body. Her mouth softens into a hint of smile and she replicates the pressure against me.
“I think you should give the eulogy,” Liv says, looking at me from Randi’s other side. She twirls the end of her low ponytail after speaking. Stephanie pins her with a gaze, managing to appear perched on a throne. Ignoring the cold look, Liv adds, “And I’d like to write the memorial bulletin.”
“That sounds nice. I can do that.” I look at my mother and aunt. Both nod quietly in agreement. “Has anyone chosen an outfit for Nana?”
Randi opens her mouth to speak, but the words get caught. No one speaks as she swallows and tries again. “I know which one. Her navy dress with the white polka dots.”
Stephanie’s face softens. “She looked beautiful in that dress.” For a moment, her eyes hold a hint of warmth. An inkling that this isn’t just a production to her. Her mask returns and ice floods my heart again.
“What about a photo?” Liv looks around the table.
“I have one in mind,” Stephanie offers. “I’ll have it printed tomorrow. The funeral home has a set playlist they use. Will that be a problem?”
We exchange looks. “Nana would probably be happy with that,” I say.
A minute passes and no one speaks. Stephanie stands. “It sounds like everything is settled then. By the way, Nana’s lawyer will be coming by tomorrow morning to discuss the will.”
Everything is far from settled, but she’s steadily checking off her to-do list.