Twenty-Eight #2
Valerie stood up to mentally check that everything was in place.
Date, time, location and invites? Yes. Food and drink?
Mickey had it covered, and had asked Sweet Dreams, Helena’s favorite ice cream store, to supply little premade cones of her preferred mint chocolate chip flavor.
Speeches—Nico had stepped up to organize that.
On the memorial table were a worn pack of cards, donated from her bridge club (courtesy of Tracey Jefferies, who had dropped them off when Valerie was in the washroom, much to her disbelief at the timing), photos of thriving foster cats, flowers from neighbors’ gardens, miniature boats, and notes and cards people had left for the family to take home.
“This part is the worst. The leftovers.” Dalia lightly touched a dog-eared Jude Deveraux. A pair of reading glasses lay on top. Helena’s nephew had brought them earlier.
“That’s exactly how I found it all,” he’d said as he set them gently on the table. “Right by her bedside.”
“I know what you mean,” said Valerie. “All the half-done things.”
Dalia made a face. “I try not to think about the great unknown too often. I don’t know how you handle it.
Are you like a surgeon and shut off the part that makes you think of death?
” Dalia nudged her. “Please tell me you, the woman currently wearing a ladybug blouse, were a goth teen. I’ll accept emo. ”
Valerie snorted. “I tried to dye my hair bubble-gum pink, but it only stained my pillowcase.”
“No lifelong obsession with death?”
“Sorry.” Valerie pulled out a chair because although her sandals were cute, they were killer after hours on her feet. “It’s the feeling of community. I feel a lot of us have lost something around death. Or most life changes.”
“Lost something how?”
“Like rituals. All the things that help move us through a grieving process that used to be guided by clear rules and expectations that made the aftermath of death a bit more predictable and understandable. A friend’s mother died when I was in my early twenties, and I had no idea what to do.
Was I supposed to send a card? Flowers? Give a donation?
How much? Go to the funeral or visitation?
What would I say? What if she didn’t want me there?
I ended up texting her my condolences and I still feel awful about it, like I’d failed as a person somehow. ”
“I know exactly what you mean. When my uncle died, he insisted we not have a funeral or anything. I felt like something was missing.”
“That’s it. A lot of the rituals around death are to help the living get through it, but fewer people have communities that can support them through the loss. I thought Ad Astra could help fill that role a bit.”
“That’s lovely,” approved Dalia.
“It was, until I messed up.” She hadn’t told Dalia about what happened with Malcolm Badgerton, but Dalia’s expression encouraged her to keep going.
“Wow. I’m sorry it turned out like that.
” That’s all Dalia said when she was done, but Valerie found herself tearing up.
It was the most sympathy she’d gotten so far.
Obviously the Badgertons had been in no mood to extend any, and her family hadn’t cared.
Nico was more of a look-forward than look-back kind of guy, in addition to the fact that he worked for Roger.
Alexis’s sympathy, if that’s what it could be called, made Valerie feel worse rather than better.
“Thanks,” she said.
Dalia looked at her closely and then stood.
Valerie shrunk down, feeling as if she’d transgressed.
You would have thought the years spent in the guest rooms at her parents’ houses, trying to stay out of the way, would have trained it out of her, but it was like she couldn’t help overflowing the dam the second someone showed an ounce of interest.
Dalia was soon back with a handful of napkins. “Here,” she said with a kind look. “It sounds like you’ve been keeping it in for a while. Let it out before you explode.”
That’s all it took. Valerie started laughing, which somehow turned into crying, and then back to laughing when Dalia, sensing a break in the tears, began to hum “Let It Go” from Frozen as she replenished Valerie’s napkin supply and patted her back.
Valerie had missed this from a friend. She’d always been the one providing the sympathy and encouragement because it felt good to be needed.
If people needed her, they’d keep her around.
She’d forgotten it was okay to need people as well.
“Thanks,” she said as she wadded up the final napkin and added it to the damp mess on her lap.
“No problem,” said Dalia, passing Valerie back her beer. “Nothing like a depressant for depression.”
That made Valerie laugh for real, without any tears. “The Beer Store should have you do their marketing.”
“Strangely enough, I did marketing for a while.” Dalia leaned back. “An office isn’t for me, and they realized it slightly before I did.”
Valerie sniffled. “Maybe I should become a remote assistant.”
“You could, but you seem to be having a good time organizing this event. Do you want to give that up?”
Valerie drank down the rest of the beer. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. What do we say to fear?”
“You win?”
“No, I told you. If we can’t fight it, we do it scared.”
Valerie nodded thoughtfully. “Or we could run away. Because it’s scary.”
“No.”
“Maybe?”
“No.”
“But—”
“I said no.”
That’s how Nico found them, laughing so hard Valerie’s stomach hurt, but feeling better about Ad Astra than she had for a long time.
* * *
“Want to sit on the dock for a bit before bed?” asked Nico when they arrived back at the Badgerton Arms. It was late enough that the rest of the house had gone to sleep, but the night was warm, even by the water.
“I’d love to.” Her mind was buzzing from planning the event, ticking through what had been done and what was left. They crossed the path and Nico stopped, then pointed.
Valerie gasped with delight. “Fireflies!” She’d never seen them in real life. There had to be dozens of them flashing over the manicured lawn. “I didn’t know they were so bright.”
The tiny flashlights strobed their way through the darkness. They felt like a gift from nature, an apology for the swarms of mosquitoes she sent to suck Valerie’s blood and the evil one that kept buzzing around her bunkie at night. She supposed it was a fair trade-off.
The fireflies faded as she and Nico approached the water, and Valerie did her usual water snake check, although Nico had assured her they only came up to bask in the sun. She didn’t care. Maybe the snakes wanted a change of pace.
“I talked to Stefanie today,” said Nico.
“How did it go?”
He gave her a summary and seemed pleased about it. She put her hand on his.
“It sounds like it went well for a call that was years in the making,” she said.
“It’s a start.” He kissed her palm. “How did the rest of the planning go?”
“Good. I hope we have it set up the way Helena would want to be remembered.”
“How’s that?”
“Fun,” said Valerie. “As a woman who enjoyed life. Generous and a bit quirky.”
Nico stretched out his legs. “It must be difficult to decide someone’s legacy for them.”