“Thanks, Bray.”
His usually bright grin is dimmed today, merely a sorrowful half-crook of his lips. “Just doing my part for the environment since youand Caroline have gone through enough tissues to fill a landfill,” he says.
“We have been a little sobby,” I admit, matching his watery smile.
“Totally understandable. I’m going to walk Erica and Phil to their car, and then I’ll pull the truck down here to get you.” He quickly adds, “But take your time. No rush.”
“We’ll meet you at your mom’s house,” Erica assures me. “I’ll put a couple of those casseroles in the oven for any guests.” The neighborhood ladies had descended upon my mother’s house the past week, toting casseroles and cakes galore. They’ve all been amazing and so supportive.
I sniffle and nod. “Thank you. A few of my dad’s friends said they would stop by in a bit.” I’d been surprised when some of my father’s old colleagues arrived at the church earlier. I hadn’t seen them since Dad’s funeral over a decade ago.
“That shocked the hell out of me,” Phil gushes. “I admit I got a little tongue-tied when I met them.”
I pat his arm. “I understand, but they’re just regular people to me. I’ve known them since I was three.”
“Yeah, but to see them in person was?—”
He’s cut off by his wife who takes his elbow. “Don’t get started again, honey. Let’s go make sure everything is set up at the house.”
Caroline and I watch as her parents head up the hill. Brayden walks to one side of Phil, not holding his arm but close enough he can catch him if he stumbles. Which he’s been doing more often lately since being diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease a couple years ago.
I clutch the handkerchief in my hand. “Brayden is such a good guy,” I note, and Caroline nods.
“He really is. He’s always showing up at their house to help out my dad. And when Dad gets prickly and says he can do whatever he’s doing by himself, Bray tells him, ‘Yeah, but I want to be your son-in-law one day, so I’m trying to kiss up.’ That makes Dad laugh, and he gives in and allows him to help.”
“He’s there for Phil without undermining his dignity,” I muse. “If you don’t marry that man, I’ll disown you.”
“I thought all men were the devil,” she teases.
“I’ll make an exception for Brayden and your dad,” I return. “The rest of them suck though.” My mind flits to the guy who initiated my man-hating crusade, and my teeth grind together. I’ve been so busy with my mom the past eight months, I’ve rarely thought of Joe.
During daylight hours, anyway. Sometimes the jerk still haunts my dreams, and I wake up aroused and full of shame. I wish I had some kind of magical remote control that would allow me to de-select certain dream topics. Kind of like how you can tailor your preferences on Netflix to show you only the content you’d be interested in. A dream algorithm… that’s what I need.
I hear the rumble of Brayden’s truck and turn my head toward my best friend. “Would you mind if I have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course,” she says, kissing me on the cheek before heading to her boyfriend’s vehicle.
Brayden really is a nice guy. He and Caroline had met up with Mom and I during a few of our travel adventures, including the horse races in Kentucky. That was in October, and while Mom was doing better than I expected, she suddenly got tired after only being there for an hour.
Brayden had quietly slipped away and returned minutes later with a wheelchair for my mother. He’d spent the rest of the day wheeling her down to look at the horses and then back and forth to the betting windows. She’d been all smiles and called Brayden her chariot driver.
Her smile. Dammit to hell, I’m going to miss that smile.
I press the handkerchief to my mouth and turn back to the grave, shaking my head. “It’s hard to believe you’re down there,” I mumble.
A breeze catches in the few leaves still clinging to the sprawling live oak tree standing sentinel nearby, and it’s almost like Mom is talking to me through the wind. So I talk back.
“I hate this,” I croak. “I hate that you’re gone, but I’m so grateful you were able to keep going until last month. The time we got to spend together…”
My grief chokes me, and I look up at the sky, allowing the tears to fall unchallenged down my face. They are signs of my sadness, but they also feel cleansing in a way, like tiny droplets of despair leaking out and falling away. Finally, I inhale through my nose and look back down, focusing on a pretty spray of purple orchids.
“Thank you for fighting so hard, Mama. You’ll never know how much I’ll treasure every adventure we went on. Even though I lost my ass in Vegas and you came home with an extra three grand.”
I can almost hear her laughter on the gust of wind that drifts across my face and dries my tears into a fine crust on my cheeks.
“You think that’s funny, huh?” I ask, smiling down at her. “At least I did well at the horse races. I know it wasn’t the Kentucky Derby like you wanted, but that’s…” My lips roll in between my teeth and I work to collect myself.
“That’s in May, and you won’t be here in May.” My voice breaks a little, and I swallow hard. “I’ll go one day. It may be a while, but I’ll go for both of us and wear a big, fancy hat. I’ll eat a hot brown and drink mint juleps and think of you. I’ll do all the things you’ll never get to do.”
