“I don’t blame him,” I looked down at her. “It’s a hard life out there, Aurora. You gotta protect what you can when you can, ‘cause you never know when it can be taken. We learned that with Alice.”
She didn’t respond. Just looked out across the vineyard like she was seeing it differently now.
“Ain’t like you can shoot what she had.”
“Yeah, but I bet he wished he could shoot the motherfucka who gave it to her.”
She still looked out to the vineyard. “It ain’t their fault. She was unvaccinated.”
I tightened my grip on the reins. “You don’t exactly take that into consideration when the love of your life and mother of your only child dies in your arms just ‘cause she took a bus. And she was so young. So full of life… it’s a fucking tragedy.”
“I see,” she looked up at me. “Tell me about my mother then.”
I swallowed.
“Alice was…”
I cleared my throat.
“She was the receptionist here at the time. Didn’t give your dad the time of day at first. Then one day… they just clicked.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just… When I started, I realized there wasn’t a receptionist. Guess I know why now.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It just didn’t feel right giving that spot away. Everything still the way she left it.”
She went quiet again.
“She must’ve been quite the woman for you to feel that way,” she added.
I didn’t answer.
We kept moving through the rows, the air shifting slightly as clouds started to roll in overhead.
“How did your mom die?” She asked out of the blue. I thought about letting it sit, but I didn’t.
“Drug overdose.”
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded once. “It’s all good.”
She didn’t ask anything else about it or whether it was intentional or not. I appreciated that.
“Do you miss her?” she asked instead.
“…yeah.” I lied.
Her voice softened just a little.
“What about my mom? How do you feel about her?”
I didn’t respond.
“Marlon?”
