“It’s been twelve years since your parents passed. All we can do is honor their memory.”
“Yes. And Anabelle’s.” I addressed her grave. “I keep screwing up your pretzels. I wish you could be here to laugh at my attempts.”
“She would.” Ethel said.
“Then you’d show me how to bake them properly with the patience of a saint.” A calmness and grounding force that I now found in Rowan.
Ethel leaned forward, and the candle flames reflected on her face. “And we’d all dance to swing music until we’d run out of breath.”
For the following half hour, we reminisced about the woman we both loved so dearly—her kind heart and brilliant mind.
“Did I tell you that we picked sides of the grave based on how we slept in bed?” Ethel said.
I snorted. “Of course you did.”
“Can I have a moment with her?” Ethel turned serious. “Then we can go to the restaurant.”
I nodded, stood up, and placed a hand on Anabelle’s tombstone. “Happy birthday, Auntie.”
I walked around the graves and read the names out loud, especially those from unkempt stones, suggesting few loved ones still visited, or none at all. Who knew when had been the lasttime someone said their names? How quickly would my grave turn sad like that?
My legs have carried me to the plot with black and grey marble and read those names too: “Janine and Thomas Tolbit, bellowed parents. Gone too soon.” Squatting by the grave, I pulled out two matching candles in blue glass casing from my tote bag and placed them on both sides. Lighting the knots, I recalled how we would spend time together. All our trips and adventures had been great, but I distinctly remember the regular evenings after school, or weekends at home when it would rain and we’d play board or video games, then watch a movie. “I miss you guys.” I sat down on the trimmed grass and sighed. “Not every day. Not anymore. But I still wish I could know you as an adult, and for you to see the rest of the world as you planned.”
The rustle behind me announced Ethel approaching.
“Do you need a moment longer?” she asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I sniffled and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “No. I’ll visit them again soon.” On the anniversary of their deaths. It had become my way of spending the week surrounding my birthday, and I wasn’t planning to change that.
Our ride dropped us at The Hoof and Claw, Anabelle’s favorite restaurant where she’d always wanted to eat for special occasions. We ordered vegan lasagne and apple tart. Even Ginny, the centaur owner, sat with us for a moment to chat about Auntie, knowing damn well why we were at this particular table on this day.
Patting her belly, Ethel downed the rest of her red wine and smiled. “Take me to the cafe.”
“It’s closed.”
“Exactly.”
We walked the short distance from the restaurant, and I let us in through the back entrance with the key that was always on my house ring.
Ethel opened her arms and looked around. “Do you still have my chair?”
“The one at the office never moved.”
She ventured into the staff area and wheeled herself on the chair to the middle of the cafe. “Remember how we used to race on these?”
“It was my favorite thing after closing time. That and the leftover pastries.”
“Anabelle would be so proud of you and how you run the place.” Ethel kissed her fingers and touched them to a framed photograph on the wall of her and Anabelle in their forties during a party evening at what was then a diner and is now the cafe.
“Thank you. I hope so.” I doubt it. “How about some green tea?”
“Oh yes. Are the cards in the usual drawer?” Ethel asked.
“Yes. The same two decks. I’ll bring them over.”
Ethel settled herself in an armchair by a round table big enough for our game to spread our cards. With tea and tiny packets of pretzels, we delved deep into the game.
“When’s your math exam?” Ethel asked, spreading several cards on the table and reaching for a new one from the upturned deck.
