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Cat straightened up from the altar that I’d created this morning.
“Hey. I got back about half an hour ago and added the final touches,” she said.
A rush of affection for her hit me, and I hugged her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling back to stare at me.
We weren’t touchy-feely friends, but a lump rose in my throat. This day always brought that out of me. My family were all gone, and Cat was my closest friend.
“Just grateful,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“I’m happy to help.” Cat smiled, flicking her ginger hair out of her face.
It meant more that she celebrated with me as she had a terrible relationship with her family. Celebrating her ancestors wasn’t easy for her, but she joined me for the past two years we’d lived together.
“Now, get Mamá Vale’s bread out. I left a space for it.” She rubbed her hands together.
There was nothing like Mamá Vale’s sweet bread. Sorry Abuela.
Cat had collected the marigolds on her way home from the medical school, and the altar looked terrific. I placed the bread down, realising a new picture adorned the display. A younger Cat and a woman I suspected was her nanny smiled into the lens. I made a note to ask her later. My eyes trailed over the likenesses of Mamá and Abuela, highlighted by the flickering candles. I didn’t have any pictures of them, but I had an artist on social media draw their likeness from my descriptions. It was a frivolous expense I didn’t need, living hand to mouth, but it was important enough to me that I ate baked beans for a few months to afford it.
I smiled, thinking of my grumpy abuela telling us about the proper festivals that lasted two days back in Mexico. One honoured children who have passed and the other deceased adults. Mamá didn’t remember as they left when she was young. No matter how we decorated our altar, it was never quite right in my abuela’s eyes. I think the craving for her homeland, coupled with the knowledge she couldn’t return, not to mention her failing vision, all turned her bitter.
Mamá, on the other hand, was a beautiful soul. My eyes watered, and my chest tightened. Knowing she was gone never really got easier. It just hit me less often. Her lovely dark eyes stared back at me from the artist’s impression. What would she have thought of me if I had told her about meeting Sean O’Sullivan?
She would tell you to run away as fast as you can.
The clanking of dishes pulled me from my memories, and I blinked rapidly. Mentally shaking myself, I turned to help Cat. She always made this special lamb stew. It was Cat’s way of honouring her family or the only person she considered family. She left it in the slow cooker to come out thick and delicious.
“I saw the new picture,” I said, getting glasses and cutlery from the drawer.
“I contacted the ex-gardener to see if he had any pictures. I remember him taking that one.” She ladled the rich-smelling stew into bowls and pulled off a chunk of bread for each.
She said nothing else. Cat never talked about her past, only that she didn’t see eye-to-eye with her family. Although she grew up with money, there seemed to be no love. Unlike my small family, who had very little, but love was never in short supply.
Cat passed me a bowl, and my mouth watered as I carried it across our tiny flat. The living area was all in one, and each year, we moved the TV and decorated the stand. So when we plopped down on the worn sofa, we faced the altar.
We ate in silence, not watching the telenovelas that my mamá used to love, and I got Cat hooked on once we moved in together. The spicy tomato flavour of the stew contrasted with the crusty bread as I watched the flickering flames, hoping Mamá and Abuela were looking down on me. It wasn’t a big festival of extended family that my abuela used to talk about, but it was more than I thought I’d ever be able to celebrate a few years ago.
“Did you impress the new boss?” Cat asked.
Pulled from my thoughts by the implications of her words, I inhaled a lump of bread.
“That well, huh?”
I coughed and grabbed a drink, my eyes watering.
“It was okay, I guess,” I croaked, still choking.
After last night, I didn’t know how to unpick my thoughts and feelings.
“The main boss was there in the end. He gave me a big tip,” I said, settling for bare facts once I cleared my airway.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess. I’m not sure all his businesses are legitimate.”
Cat snorted. “That’s not uncommon.”
