Chapter 39 #2
Caroline’s vanity sat in the corner, a simple desk and mirror, with a chair that was the old rusty style my sister loved so much. Jars of perfumes and lotions still sat there, untouched. Her dresser stood against one wall, another adorned mirror above it, taking up a good portion of the wall.
One visit, when Abigail was only a squat little thing, I watched her jump up and down on her mom’s bed, making silly faces at herself in the mirror. My eyes slammed shut, letting that vision stay a little longer.
With my mom’s and Abigail’s voices still playing in the background, I stepped in a little farther, peeking in the closet next to the door.
It was open, probably where Abigail had dug out her pictures, and it made me wonder how often she crept in here to find those kinds of treasures.
This room wasn’t off-limits for her in any way, but for me, it felt too soon.
Too heavy. God, I envied this little girl for her ability to enjoy these pieces of her mother.
A large wicker chest with an intricately detailed latch sat at the end of the bed.
One of several of her beautiful afghans lay across it.
Those blankets of yarn were all over this house, and I had always hated them.
They were never long enough, a little scratchy for my taste, and my fucking toes would poke through the holes in the crocheted patterns.
But now, at least one was in each room. Caroline made me a burgundy and navy one for Christmas one year, and I dug it out and draped it across the bottom of my bed.
Abi and I snuggled in a variety of them strewn on the backs of the couches and armrests.
Abi’s preferred one was always tucked under her chin at bedtime, and Caroline had even made a small one for Cheeto the Fox.
People talked about what you appreciated once people left this world, and who would have thought one of those things would be her stupid scratchy blankets of yarn.
“Your sister made one of those for me once. It’s all yarn balls and dusty smells, but I still have it. Maybe Abigail would like it.” My mother, who had inched toward me, must have seen me staring at the afghan. The world came back, the grief seeping back into the room with it.
With effort, I turned my face on her, voice neutral. “Abigail has a dozen of them. Caroline made sure they were all around the house. She loves to curl up in them.”
My mother’s eyes met mine, hers wet. Fuck no, she was not allowed to shed one damn tear in this house, let alone this room.
“Abigail is a great host. She’s been teaching me her great manners.” My eyes never left my mother’s. “Abbers, did you offer your grandmother a refreshment?”
Abi hopped off the bed in a flash. “Oh! I’m so rude. Grandma, would you like a juicies and appletizler?”
My mother’s lips twitched as she looked down at my niece. “Of course. That sounds delightful.”
Abi raced down the hall, and then we were alone.
I stepped into the doorframe, letting it hold the weight that was bearing down on me.
She touched my arm, the slightest grasp, but it drove a mix of fury and sorrow through me, colliding with grief and anxiety, all of it so raw.
When her eyes met mine again, one tear had dropped. “I see her everywhere here.”
I yanked my arm from her touch, all emotions falling over, outrage taking the forefront.
“Because this was her house, Mother. The one she raised Abigail in. From the day she was born.” My breath shuddered, but I willed a firm voice.
“This is Abigail’s home because Caroline made it what it is.
A constant reminder that she is with her always.
” My glare tightened, not abandoning her eye contact once.
“And you and Bruce fucking dare to try to take her from it? It’s time for you to leave. ”
She clasped her chest but nodded. We both managed to inhale and plaster on smiles when Abi padded down the hallway.
She held up her Cinderella plate. The one divided into three parts.
Sometimes she’d yell at me that it was a baby plate, and other times, it was the only plate she would eat from.
One section had the dino fruit snacks, stuffed in a pile of greens, reds, and oranges.
The other sections were cheddar bunnies and veggie sticks.
“Here you go, Grandma.”
My mother took the plate and looked it over. Not a sign of disgust on her face at the highly processed, sticky, messy snacks. She daintily picked up a bunny and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”
“What fruit-snack color is your favorite, Grandma?” Ahhh, the question of all questions. If Cici’s love language was coffee, Abigail’s love language was fruit snacks. I had to hand it to my mother, for all the thoughtfulness in her face, she really appeared to dig deep for her response.
“Orange” was her final answer.
Abi beamed. “Orange is Cici’s favorite too.”
My mother pulled her purse over her shoulder and quirked a brow my way. “Yes, we met Cici on our way in.”
My stomach dropped. Poor Cici. It was on my lips to snarl at my mother and ask if she’d scared her away, but I held my cards to my chest, remembering this was a game.
But then I saw the hint of a smile. And it didn’t translate as calculating; instead, it reminded me of the looks she gave me in high school when she caught on that I liked a girl.
Like an untold secret between us. And it always felt like it was okay.
Swallowing that thought down deep, I straightened, not giving her any semblance of a reaction.
My mother gathered her features and smiled down at Abi as she wrangled the sticky clump of fruit snacks to dig out the orange one. My mother graciously pulled it from Abi’s fingers and chewed it with a smile. “Thank you, dear, but I will have to enjoy more snacks later. I am late for my meeting.”
It was my turn to lift a brow her way. “Already found your local gaggle of elitists, Mother?”
She turned back to me, and I expected glaciers in her eyes, but they were still warm, almost radiating. “No, it’s with my lawyer.”
Check and mate. I held my quips as Abigail walked her out. She leaned down and squeezed Abigail into an embrace, kissing her head, and I wanted to look away. “Think about what you want to do for our next visit later this week.”
Abigail bopped on her toes, her gears already turning. “Bye, Grandma, I love you.”
How my mother didn’t turn into a puddle right there at the doorstep was beyond me, but she stayed upright and smiled warmly. “I love you, Abigail. See you soon, sweet girl.”