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Frannie,
Your life was short, and brimming with tragedy from the moment you were conceived. But you left this world a better place. You were the fragile thread that kept me anchored. You taught me compassion and gave me reason. I’ll miss you, ‘tit papillon. Little butterfly.
I plant a kiss to the back of Céleste’s hand, watching as the casket is lowered into a small grave beside my mother’s.
50
Brie
One month later ...
“Justin! C’mon, baby! We gotta get goin’!” I slide my purse up onto my shoulder and grab the bag of lunch I prepped for him, along with the stack of flyers I made for Marcelle’s auction dinner. Some of the girls from the club, as well as a few generous friends from the neighborhood are helping me arrange this, in order to pay for her headstone next to Maw Maw’s. A number of businesses offered to donate some nice items for auction, which should give us just enough to hold a small funeral for her, as well. An empty casket, of course.
My nephew bounces through the house and skids to a stop in front of me, adjusting his glasses. Unlike me, he’s found a totally different means of hiding his sadness, which mostly consists of excessive reading. Anything he can get his hands on that I’ll allow him to read seems to keep him calm and in good spirits, since finding out about his momma.
On the other hand, I cry every night for my sister, after Justin goes to bed.
Bending down to retie his shoe, I glance up at him. “You used the toilet?”
“Yep.”
“Brushed your teeth?”
“Yep.”
“Put on clean socks?”
“Yep.”
“Ate a bowl of stinkbugs?”
“Ye—wait. No!” A giggle flies out of his mouth. “Dat’s gwoss!”
“It’s protein.” I slide his backpack onto his back and pass off his lunch to him. “What d’you think I put in your sandwich?”
“Not stinkbugs!”
“Yeah, stinkbugs.” Chuckling, I take his hand in mine and exit the house, and when I turn to lock the door, I notice a pink note stuck to it.
“What’s evic … evict ...” Justin asks.
“Eviction, baby,” I finish for him. “It’s nothin’. Nothin’ to worry about, hear? C’mon. We gotta get you to the sitter’s, so I can pass around these flyers.” Crumpling the paper into a ball I want to punt across the yard, I shove it into my purse, biting down the urge to run back inside and lock myself in the bathroom for an hour to cry.
“Are da fwyers for Momma?”
“Yep. They’re for your momma. We’re going to get the prettiest gravestone. And you can even put a message on it for her.”
He lowers his gaze and pushes up his glasses. “I miss her.”
Choking back tears again, I bend forward to kiss the top of his head. “I do, too.”
“She’s all better. Her booboos don’ even huwt anymore.”
Smiling, I look down at him. “How you know that?”
“Maw Maw Day telled me.”
Justin’s never met Maw Maw. He’s only ever heard the few times Marcelle and I mentioned her. It’s a little strange hearing him say her name, out of the blue.
