She plucks at my shirt. "Still smells like him."
I put my nose to my shoulder and inhale—she's right, it does smell like Felix. I have to stop myself from sniffing it again. "Oh."
"Well?" she demands.
I can't quite suppress a grin. "I think his exact words were 'Jesus fucking christ, Ember.' Followed by 'Fucking perfect.'"
"So then shut the hell up with that 'ewww, I gained a few pounds’ bullshit." She adopts a simpering, whining, mocking tone.
I roll my eyes. "Not what I said or how I said it, but point taken."
"So why are you here instead of there, with him, naked, getting plowed six ways to Sunday?"
I choke and nearly splutter Kahlua and coffee all over Felix's white shirt; I spend several moments hacking my lungs out while trying not to spew it everywhere.
When I can breathe again, I swallow and wipe my mouth on my arm. “Jesus, Faye," I rasp. "Getting plowed?"
She cackles. "I'm a bored, lonely old woman. Got nothin' to do but watch TV all day. You pick things up." She takes a sip of her coffee, flicking a finger at me. "So? Why are you here instead of there?"
"I need to think. I need to process. I…" I shake my head, huffing. "I'm confused. Scared. Lost. And he just confuses me worse."
Faye shakes her head. "Ohhhhh, girly." She points at the hallway leading to the bedrooms—moving boxes are stacked along both walls, some closed, taped, and labeled, others open. “You can help me pack, if you're gonna insist on being a daft bimbo and hang out with my fat old ass instead of letting that fine hunk of man mean diddle your bean."
"Faye—"I start, but she waves me off.
"Nah, nah. Don't start, missy. I know, I look like hell. Don't worry about it." At my expectant stare, she sighs. "I'm almost out of time, Ember. I can feel it in my bones."
"Faye," I whisper. "Don't say that."
"I'm ready, honey," she whispers back. "I miss my Tommy too much to live without him any longer. But I need to spend some time with Tina, Ben, and Alaina before I let the good lord take me home."
I tip my head back and blink hard. "Then you have to let me take you there."
She grins, resting her head on my shoulder. "Nothing on this earth could make me happier than to go on one last road trip, missy. You and me. No bras, lots of pot, and lots of snacks."
"Fuck yeah," I say. "Sounds perfect. When do we leave?"
"Well, if you help me pack up all this stuff…next year?" She laughs. "I have a lifetime of stuff to go through."
"Do youneedto go through it?"
She frowns. "Who else would?" When I shrug, unable to verbalize what I mean, she pokes me in the boob. "Out with it, missy. What do you mean?"
"I mean, bring the few most essential things you need, your most sentimental stuff. Everything else, put it in storage. Hire a moving company to do it."
"And then it just sits in storage?"
"And then whenever Tina is ready, she can go through it, keep what's important to her. Don't waste your precious time on stuff, Faye."
She lets out a harsh sigh. "Oh. I see what you mean." A pause. "Let her sort through it after I'm gone."
"I mean…" I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. I don't mean it like—"
"No, you're absolutely right. It was making me sick, the thought of having to sort through my entire life. All of Tommy's things I never got rid of. Tina's things from when she was young and living with us." A laugh, a shake of her head. "I never got rid of anything. The attic is full, the basement is full. It'd take me forever. Even if you helped me, it'd take weeks to go through it all, and it would be heartbreaking for me to try to decide what to keep and what to throw away."
"I just mean maybe that shouldn't be your job."
She lets out a sigh of relief. “You just took a huge burden off of me, Ember." She reaches into the pocket of her pink crushed velvet track suit bottoms and pulls out a chunky Nokia flip phone from the early 2000s, opens it, finds a number, and calls it. "Hello, Roger? It's Faye. You have a minute? Good. So, I've decided I'm not going to sort through my things before I leave—I want you to handle it. Hire a company to pack everything up and put it into storage. Have the house cleaned and staged, and sell it. Add the proceeds to my will. Okay? Good." She eyes me thoughtfully. "Actually, wait. Do everything but sell it. I have to think about that. I'm not sure I want to sell it to random strangers. But put the stuff in storage, and once I kick the bucket, send the key and information to Tina. Have the old place cleaned up in the meantime. I'll email you with further instructions regarding what to do with the house after I'm gone." She pauses, listening. "Thank you, Roger. You as well. Goodbye."
