I told my friend yesterday that I was writing a car fuck scene and didn’t elaborate. You can read it now, Kat! :P
Milo
“You can drop us off here,” I said to the driver as we neared the cemetery gates. “Thank you.”
I’d ordered the NeighborRide to take Ethel and me to see my great aunt on her birthday. Ethel never minded taking the bus, but I hated her being uncomfortable in a metal heat-box with not enough AC in the middle of the summer. Which always reminded me that I should have a car, even if only for her and to be able to make her trips to the park, cemetery, or stores more convenient. Alas, I was a chickenshit with unresolved trauma.
Ethel took my hand to get out of the car and thanked the driver as well. I offered her my elbow, and accepted it as we walked through the iron gates with “Wendigo Hills Cemetery” in large letters on top.
The walkway had neatly trimmed bushes on one side, while on the other big tombstones with elaborate sculptures mixed with simpler designs from decades past. We reached the sand-colored marble of Anabelle’s grave and sat on the bench in front of it. The left side had my great-aunt’s name and dates, and the right one had Ethel’s name with only her date of birth.
“The shade of the stone always reminded me of milky coffee swirls,” I said, recalling the first time I’d seen it when I’d visited my grandparents’ grave a few spots further when my aunt had still been alive and well.
“She liked this one best. We were in our sixties when we picked it, hoping it would wait for us a long while. And it did.” Ethel repositioned the vase that stood on Anabelle’s slab and changed the flowers in it to fresh ones she’d brought. “She would be ninety-nine today.” Ethel smoothed the peach, flowery dress she had on that flowed around her ankles. She’d never worn black to mourn since Anabelle had told her not to. That she loved the wacky, colorful clothes they both wore and had asked Ethel to honor her by never changing.
“And would not let us throw a party for her.” Ethel and I always talked to the grave as if Anabelle was listening, sharing our regular daily stuff with her.
“No. She hated those.” Ethel shook her head. “She was so stubborn in her ways, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. You take after her. Once you set your mind on something, no one and nothing can stop you.”
“Doesn’t mean I pursue the things I should. Most days, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Ethel patted my shoulder. “You’re young, you have time to make mistakes. Use it unwisely.”
“That’s probably the worst advice, Ettie.”
“Nah. Annie and I did a lot of impulsive and stupid shit in our youth, well into our sixties too. Impromptu purchase of the space for the diner with all our savings was one of them.”
“And it turned out to be a great idea.”
“Exactly.” She smirked. “We had no plan, only a dream of running a diner where everyone would feel welcome and have a good lunch with lots of coffee. Even after the change into a cafe, people stayed with us.”
“I’m afraid I’d fuck it all up. Your legacy.” I fidgeted with the fraying edge of my Cryptid Café tote bag.
“Fuck that. We ran it for a long time, and if not for you, I would have sold it and it would be now another chain coffee shop, or a furniture store. You do with it what your heart tells you to.”
“I want to preserve the memory of the place, and I’m afraid I’m failing you both.” I pulled out a dust brush from the box under the bench and began sweeping the gravestone.
“Do you know why we pivoted from a diner to a cafe?”
“To keep up with the times and what was popular.”
“No.” Ethel pointed at a spot I missed. “Cooking full lunches and dinners all day required more kitchen staff and more supplies than we could afford. So making the menu smaller and focusing on coffee helped us keep the place for us and the community, but cut costs significantly.”
“Oh.” That was news to me.
“It was Anna’s idea. When everyone was expanding their offer and building bigger, we focused on the simple things, on what was important—a place for people to pause for a moment.”
“You succeeded. The cafe always felt like a relative’s living room to me—cosy and welcoming.”
“It’s that to this day, and all thanks to you, so don’t cut yourself short. I’m just worried you’re not taking enough time off. Meeting Rowan added some color to your schedule, huh?” She patted the bench next to her.
I set the brush aside and took a seat. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish Auntie could meet him, but he’ll leave the town soon and I won’t see him much anymore.” I pulled a candle out of my tote bag, lit it, and placed it on Anabelle’s side.
“Even people we know for a short time can have a lasting impact on our lives. You seem happy.” She placed a comforting hand on my forearm. “As if yoursaddidn’t get you for a while.”
“It didn’t.” Not all days were fully joyful; it was a fact of life for everyone, but I hadn’t gotten bouts of depression for weeks now. Maybe Rowan was responsible, at least in part. “Rowan let me drive his car,” I blurted out. I was still processing what Ethel was saying. Rowan had slotted himself into my life seemingly without changing anything, but I saw many things differently now since meeting him. Math wasn’t as scary, and maybe even driving wouldn’t soon be either. He swiped aside that dark cloud that seemed to be over my head a lot. But I knew it never stayed away for long.
Ethel lifted her grey eyebrows. “How did that go?”
