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“No,” I said again, though with less conviction. Mom and I had talked about that very thing the night before.You have to be prepared,she had said.I won’t be around forever, and when I go, it’s up to you to lead this family.
She must have known something, even then, I thought.She must have known she would die soon.
How dare she die and leave me here.
I backed away from my father, looking around the room. Everyone stood up, waiting for me to take over, to lead the charge like I always did. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I looked around the room, seeking escape from the news that my mother, a bright light in this world and the best woman I’d ever known, was suddenly taken from me.
I couldn’t do it. I had to get out of there.
Without another word to my family, I left the house, got in my car, and drove.
Ididn’t know where I was going or what I would do when I got there; I just knew that I had to leave. There was no way my mother could be dead; I wouldn’t allow it.
In the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t dictate whether people lived or died, but I couldn’t make sense of my mother’s death any other way. Why was it that my mom—a woman that put her heart and soul into the Hemingway community, who never drank in excess or smoked even one cigarette—how was it that a person who wassogood, andsosuccessful, and such a pillar in the community, could just be…gone?
Why couldn’t it be anyone else instead?
I pulled over to the side of the road as it got dark and cut the engine. And that’s when I let it out. In the silence of my car, I let loose all the pain and sorrow stored up in my body, not deterred by the way my screams and cries reverberated in the small space. I leaned my head against the steering wheel, hearing my own sobs and, unlike any other time, refusing to stem them in the name of being astrong Hemingway man.My mother, whom I often looked to for guidance on how to act, think, and even dress, was gone. I had my dad, but he and I had never been as close. What was I going to do now?
After a period of what could have been minutes or hours, I felt myself calming down. With one final exhale, I wiped my face and grabbed my phone. I had several missed calls, even more texts, and a voicemail from my best friend, Harold, who was also the family lawyer. I listened to the voicemail first.
“Nathan,” he said.“I know you just got the worst surprise of your life. We all did. But you need to call me back when you get this. We have to discuss some things. Give me a call. Bye.”
I frowned. As if Mom’s death wasn’t ominous enough. I knew that now, with Mom gone, I had to take over the estate as the eldest of the next generation of biological Hemingways, counting extended family, but what was so urgent that it required Harold to call me right after Dad broke the news?
Shaking off the feeling of foreboding, I navigated to my text messages. I had received one from each of my siblings in the group chat.
Mack:Hey bro, where are you? Come home.
John:yeah dont be out in these streets without me. LOL
Mack:?? Really, John? You think now’s the time for jokes?
John:just tryna lighten the mood, sheesh
Brandon:Don’t get killed driving out there all reckless and shit. Come home.
Damien:Yeah, now’s not the time to be alone. We’re still at Dad and Mom’s. We ordered in
Ismiled down at my phone, feeling myself settle by degrees. Though my world had been turned upside-down, my siblings hadn’t changed one bit. It was nice to have at least that nugget of normalcy.
Nathan:I’ll be there soon.
Harold can wait,I thought.I just want to be with my family.
I sighed, starting the car and heading home.
CIARA
In a small town, there are no secrets. Often, anyone who tries to keep something to themselves is woefully unprepared for how things get out. People gossip behind hands or over coffee, and the person being gossiped about is none the wiser until one day, someone lets something slip.
Unfortunately, the town rumor mill is how I found out that Theresa Hemingway, the Hemingway family matriarch, had died.
“I heard she just up and kicked the bucket,” a shopper, Mary, said to her best friend, Natalie, as they looked through the shirts. I knew unfolded shirts were inevitable, working as a floor associate in a college bookstore, but I had just finished folding the stack they were looking through. I sighed as they unfolded at least three.
“I heard from Thomas, who heard from Sydney, the coroner, that the family had no warning,” Mary continued. “Healthy as a horse one day, and the next, she was justgone—”she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”
“Well, you know peoplebeentalkin’ bout the family’s health issues,” Natalie replied, shaking out a shirt and looking at the tag.Unfolded shirt number four.I grimaced. “Maybe Theresa didn’t have any, but her daddy died from a heart attack, and her mama had heart disease. And then her auntie had a stroke last year, you remember? Right there in the church on a Sunday. You know, if they weren’t all eatin’ all that MSG at that Chinese food place, they might live longer.”
