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Epilogue
Granada, Spain, March 2014.
There were two things they needed to do. Then they could relax for the evening and reminisce a little. Number one, go to the cemetery, and number two, collect Nana’s ashes. In that order specifically because Nana didn’t want her final place of rest to be the cemetery. She wanted her ashes spread at the base of the small pomegranate tree that had been planted almost twenty years ago next to Matías’s workshop. It was where her grandpa’s ashes had been scattered just four months earlier, and Matias’s too, five years before his father’s. They’d missed Nana’s funeral because they’d been trekking in the outback in Australia and without a phone signal. Once Gabi had got over the initial sadness, she had managed a wry smile. Nana had probably planned it that way to save Gabi the pain of having to deal with everything. Gabi’s dad had done that. He’d been there for Nana when Juan, his true father, had died too. She was glad Nana had found the right time to tell him. She’d been very clear about what was to be done with her ashes, and Gabi wasn’t going to let her down at this final hurdle.
Gabi turned the key in the apartment door and was met with the sweet aroma of rose and orange blossom. The vase on the table was empty of water, and the yellow heads that hadn’t fallen bowed towards the sunlight. She wondered if Pablo still lived in the big house up the road with the pomegranate orchard and the sweetest oranges in Granada. Probably not. He’d been at least five years older than Nana.
Gabi picked up the vase and took it through to the kitchen. She wandered through to Nana’s bedroom. The fuchsia pink dress and matching hat that she’d worn when they travelled here almost twenty years ago hung in her wardrobe, alongside the black dresses that were the custom here. The bed was perfectly made, as if Nana had never slept in it. The butterfly brooch and her favourite heart shaped locket were laid out on the dressing table. It was probably the only time she’d taken that locket off, the night she’d gone to sleep and not woken.
Gabi picked it up and turned it in her hand. She prised it open and smiled at the small chunk of gold, no bigger than a few grains of rice stuck together. Juan had struck gold, and Nana had struck gold in the end too.
Aisha put her arms around Gabi’s waist and hugged her. “Are you okay?”
Gabi showed Aisha the nugget inside the locket. “I’m fine. She was happy here.”
“Do you think people can die of a broken heart?”
She stroked Aisha’s cheek. “I know I could.”
Aisha kissed her.
“I want to take flowers,” Gabi said.
“We can pick some up at the market.”
The market stalls Gabi remembered had changed owners. The old man’s rug stall had been replaced by a bohemian-style pottery display. Matiás’s jewellery stall had been replaced by another. She bought a bunch of pink carnations, red roses, and white lilies, and they made their way, hand in hand, to the cemetery.
It looked bigger, probably because it housed more people now. There were new names on the wall with the little boxes that held the ashes, and the statue that had been in a decrepit state all those years ago hadn’t been restored.
She stopped at the Flores family plot and stared at her nana’s full name, Estrella Sánchez Flores, engraved beneath the names and dates that marked her parents’ short lives. Aisha squeezed Gabi’s hand. Gabi laid the flowers down. “She had a long life. A good life.”
Aisha wiped tears from her cheek and Gabi drew her closer. “It’s still sad.”
“Loss always is.”
They walked back to the apartment with the urn and sat it on the table on the balcony overlooking the river and out to the Sacromonte hills. She hoped Nana could see them.
Aisha handed her a glass of Rioja, and they made a toast. Aisha looked towards the hills, and Gabi noticed the tremble in her hand as she sipped her drink. She put her arm around her waist and held her close.
“Are you ready to go back there?”
Aisha sighed. “If I don’t go now, I never will.”
The caves looked the same, a change of door colour here and there, and Matiás’s workshop in the field opposite had been well maintained. Gabi felt his warmth and kindness, and Aisha turned her wedding ring with her thumb as they stared at the pomegranate tree.
Gabi poured Nana’s ashes around the root and stared at them. Tears filled her eyes and burst onto her cheeks. “I swore I wasn’t going to cry,” she said.
Aisha wiped her eyes. “It’s impossible not to cry with so much love here.”
They sniffled together, holding hands, and the sniffles turned to a chuckle, and the chuckle to laughter. Gabi didn’t have a clue what she was laughing about, but it was good to laugh here. She took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
Aisha gazed towards her parents’ house. Nana had kept them informed. Her papa had long since died, and her sister had three children and a baby grandchild.
“Yes,” she said.
The front door to her mama’s house was open, and Aisha glanced across the field. Her mama was picking the crops, her back bent low, her movements a snail’s pace. Aisha pressed her hand to her chest.
“I’m right here,” Gabi whispered. “If you want to leave, we can.”
