“Would you mind if we made a stop before you take me home?”
“Where do you need to go,tesoro?”
“Mt. Calvary Cemetery. I’d like to introduce you to my mom.”
I’m not sure if her words press the fragments of my heart closer together or make the temperamental organ shatter into more pieces, but that damned lump is back in my throat, making it impossible to answer. I hold her hand for the entire drive. By the time we arrive, I’m shaking. Somehow this feels even more important than meeting her dad.
“I can wait here if you’d like.” Offering her an out tastes bitter on my tongue, but if she needs time with her mom without me, I can wait.
She shakes her head. “Do you have cups in this fancy schmancy car of yours? Your mom said she was putting a bottle of non-alcoholic wine in the cooler she sent me home with.”
Turning her head away from me, she shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a while. I was thinking I could catch her up, you know? Celebrate some things with her.” She still won’t turn to look at me. “It’s stupid.”
It’s not, not at all. I know how much she misses her mom, how much her loss impacts her on a cellular level every single day. I cup her cheek, turning her head back toward me. “It’s not stupid, and I’d really love to join you. Let me grab the bottle. If it comes to it, we’ll drink straight from the bottle.” I lean across the center console to kiss her forehead before getting out of the car.
I expected the bottle Mamá sent Eloise home with to be a six-thousand-dollar bottle of Armand de Brignac Gold Champagne. It’s her favorite, and she’s excited, already planning weddings and babies for the two of us. It’s adorable as fuck.
I don’t even know whether or not Eloise likes Champagne or would be able to tell from tasting it that it’s not cheap, but I had made a mental note to get rid of the bottle before she has a chance to Google it.
Except it’s not Armand de Brignac. It’s still a two hundred buck bottle of alcohol-free Champagne, though. Mamá wasn’t being intentionally flashy, that’s not who she is. But I also didn’t get a chance to tell her that our wealth and lifestyle is incredibly overwhelming for my girl. I don’t want her to feel weird about drinking an expensive bottle of Champagne at her mother’s grave when she already feels foolish for the whole thing to begin with.
I don’t have Champagne flutes. But I do have red Solo cups and a can of ginger ale. I grab two cups, one for her and her mom, and in case the Champagne tastes like shit, tuck the can into my pants pocket before grabbing two coats, closing the trunk, and helping my girl out of the car.
It wouldn’t have been somewhere I’d have picked for us to spend time, but wandering through the cemetery in the cool night air is oddly soothing. Her hand snug in mine, she walks next to me in silence, her breath sending little puffs of steam into the air. There’s a peace here that I often struggle to find outside the gates of the cemetery.
When we get to her mom’s plot, fresh flowers already adorn her grave, and some dead ones that Eloise collects together and sets in a pile to the side. “Dad comes pretty often.” She crosses her legs and sits straight down on the grass. Her mom is in an edge plot, and a grassy path leads all the way along the perimeter.
I place the two plastic cups on the edge of the grave, giving Eloise a cautious glance. I don’t want to disrespect her mom, or her, or the sanctity of the cemetery, but at the same time, I want to include her mom as though she’s right here with us.
With a concerted effort, I pop the cork on the Champagne and pour some into the two cups before taking out my can of pop. Even though it’s alcohol free, it still tastes like shit.
“You’re not having any?” The surprise in her voice is obvious, but she quickly recovers. “Sorry. I just… If it bothers you, we don’t have to… I don’t have to.”
I cover her lips with my finger. “It’s okay,tesoro. It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t like it. Some days it might, though, and I might need your help to be strong, but here, now, with you…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. It wouldn’t matter if it was a bottle of tequila. I feel invincible, powerful, in control. She makes me feel like I can battle even my darkest demons and win.
“So, the second cup is for my mom?” There are lights around the cemetery, and the moon is pretty full in the clear sky overhead so I can see the emotion clouding her pretty green eyes.
“Of course. It’d be rude to sit here chatting to her without offering her a drink.” I boop her nose like she’s silly for even asking.
“I don’t even know where to start.” She sips from her plastic cup.
“When was the last time you were here?”
She shrugs. “It’s been a while.”
“Start with tonight, with Thanksgiving dinner, and work backwards until you feel like she’s caught up?”
She smiles, takes another drink, and gets started. Hearing her talk about Thanksgiving with my family makes my heart expand. She talks like she’s known them her whole life, laughing about Abuelita and her chancla, recalling the kindness of Mamá gifting her shoes, and grumbling about how smart Apollo is.
I’m not sure whether or not she realizes it, but they all loved her right back. Even Papá engaged her more than I’d have expected. Granted he was a bit of a prick about it, but still. If he disliked her, he’d have ignored her. I’m more than familiar with his practices.
I don’t know how long we sit, but at some point Eloise moves to sit with her back against my chest, and my arms wrapped around her. She’s on her second cup of Champagne, and she’s laughing, telling her mom all about Bacon the pig and Puck the psychopathic black cat.
A twig snaps, leaves rustle, and when I focus, a figure stands in the shadows. From this position, I can’t protect her, so I untangle myself from her and spring to my feet. Her dad steps into the light.
“Mr. Downing.” I don’t know what else to say. I was curled up on the ground of the cemetery with his daughter, an open bottle of Champagne next to us while we chat to his dead wife. I admit, it might look pretty weird. He won’t know that there’s no booze in the bottle. Shit. Shit. Brushing the back of my neck, I struggle to come up with a way to diffuse the situation.
He clears his throat. “When I saw your car in the parking lot, I admit I was ready to storm up here and kick your ass all the way into that empty grave down the hill.”
