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Olivia eases into the chair across from me, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her jeans and lights one up. “I have cancer and the doctors aren’t hopeful.”
I steal a peek at Eli, who rests his back against the wall. He’s watching me, and I suddenly feel like a fish in a glass bowl. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Olivia says. “I’ve fought a good fight and lived a great life. God calls us all home at some point.” She blows out the smoke and I swallow the cough that tickles my throat.
“Funerals are expensive,” she states. It’s a pause and an uncomfortable one. She props her elbow on the desk, and I’m strangely fascinated by the way she holds her forearm up and dangles the cigarette from her bent hand.
“Okay,” I prompt, hoping this will continue the conversation.
She nails Eli’s smile and I notice her dark eyes—my eyes. Olivia is pretty and doesn’t seem old enough to have a granddaughter my age. A part of me wonders if I’ll resemble her when I grow older.
“And if I’m going to waste that much money on a party, I prefer to be part of the action.”
“So you planned your own funeral and attended it.” Weird. Very, very weird.
“Yes. Sorry about earlier. Bad timing. I thought I’d test-drive the bed in a box. See what these bones could be spending eternity in. It’s either that or the furnace.”
I shift in my chair. That’s not weird. It’s nuts.
“Eli fucked up the e-mail to your family. Put in the obituary instead of the party announcement. I wrote the two at the same time. Figured I’d be the best person to write what I want people to read after I bite.” Olivia takes another drag off her cigarette and flicks the ashes into a coffee mug.
“Muck.” I’ve heard people say fuck before. Guys say it at school constantly, but...
Her forehead wrinkles. “What?”
“You should use muck instead. You’re a...grandmother...” and the words fall off because they sound stupid.
She cackles. Like a witch. Head thrown back and everything. I shrink farther into the chair and will my phone to ring or my dad to show. Why is it taking so long for him to find me?
“Muck. I’ll remember it. Back to the conversation. I don’t regret what Eli sent.” She sucks in one more draw before dropping the cigarette into the mug. It sizzles in the liquid. “I’m meeting you.”
Simultaneous buzzing. My phone vibrates against the palm of my hand. Eli yanks his phone ou
t of his back pocket. Too bad he didn’t answer it last night. He could have saved us from this terrible torment.
We both accept the calls. “Hi, Mom.”
“Are you okay, baby?” She sounds close to hysterics. I regret leaving the message while sobbing like a lunatic.
“Yes. I’m fine. Just freaked.” Nothing a lifetime of therapy won’t fix.
Mom rattles on and I tune her out while listening for key words that indicate I should speak. I’m more interested in Eli’s conversation.
“I know.” Eli rubs his forehead. “Jeff...” It’s my dad. “Hear me out.”
From the silence on Eli’s end, it’s obvious Dad’s in no mood to listen, and I wonder why he’s not in here talking to Eli face-to-face. Mom pauses. “Em?”
Crap, caught not listening. “I’m here.”
“I said you need to leave. Right now. Walk out the door, do you understand?”
A twinge of panic strangles my heart when I look out the office’s window. Two men guard the door. These guys weren’t present before. At least I don’t think they were. They aren’t laughing or carrying on like everyone else in the hallway. Their backs are to us and their spines are arrow-straight. But what causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end is how they turn their heads to observe the crowd as if they’re expecting something...or someone.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask Mom.
“Outside,” she answers. “He’s outside and he can’t get in. Eli won’t stop you, honey. He’s capable of a lot of things, but he’ll let you go. Do it now, Emily. Leave.”
Eli runs a hand over his face as he continues his conversation with Dad. “That’s not necessary. There’s no reason to change those plans. Emily is fine. A little shaken up, but she doesn’t need to go home.”
