AllFreeNovel
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One of the interesting things about our family is the way we choose to involve ourselves philanthropically. Dad does it to promote his business to the world. Mom was a graceful volunteer with a handful of educational charities. Nana Noel poured her fortune into Hastings Center to support my mother’s interests when she married my father that helps to raise funds for orphanages and humane societies. And me? I try to pour every ounce of goodness my mother gave me into giving back to those who fight silent battles they face every single day.
“Stop reading the news outlets like they’re gospel,” I admonish quietly, referring to our previous topic. “It’ll drive your anxiety up if you believe everything you come across and treat it like it’s real. Mom would tell you that you’re supporting propaganda for boredom’s sake.”
Nana Noel pauses for a moment before her tinkering laughter fills the yard. “Do you know that your mother said that to you because it’s what I would say to her and what my mother said to me? Of course it was always about random things. Fashion trends, sports teams, friends, and any gossip that came along.”
Selfishly I love hearing stories about Mom, even though they rip open a wound in us every time we talk about her. Eventually I think we’ll mend ourselves, at least Nana Noel and me. Dad? It’s almost like her dying drove him to tear his own heart out, rip his world apart and set it aflame for simply breathing when she wasn’t.
This was the cost of death: our hearts.
“Anything else you need before I head into the city this morning?” I ask her.
She pauses to look at me again, her mouth twisting downwards as she looks me over. “When was the last time you read the news?”
I debate answering her. My interest in petty gossip pieces is practically nil, and my ability to follow along with anything other than dog videos and humanitarian issues is beyond my level of viewing without wanting to set the entire world news organization alight. “Probably not since last Wednesday, when the golden retriever I follow posted a video about eating a hotdog through a whack-a-mole cardboard game.”
There’s a brief smile that graces her face, but I can tell she thinks there’s something else I should have seen.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I ask, “Is there something I need to know about?”
“It’s not on your radar for a reason then,” is her cryptic reply. She turns back towards her garden. “Have a wonderful day. I’ll see you for dinner tonight if you get off at a decent time for a change.”
I watch her turn away finally, meandering further away and into the spots of sunshine beaming down between the trees. Her face tilts up, eyes closing as she beams a smile upwards, like she’s silently bidding someone in Heaven good morning.
“Are you going to the youth center this afternoon?” Nana Noel asks from across the yard.
My stare doesn’t phase her as she continues to go about her gardening, oblivious or purposely avoiding looking directly at me now. “I don’t know,” I answer carefully. “Depends on what kind of day today turns out to be.”
Truthfully charity work, while it seems to be a genetic trait that comprises half of my blood and mind, is something I do to unwind. Some people knit, some people walk around zoos after eating edibles, and some read. Me? I find my escape in charity work, helping others and giving them all the attention I can muster is what silences the anxiety rolling in my body when I hear bad news.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me before I head into work?” I ask.
For a split second, even with her turned halfway towards the neighbors opposing hedges, I could swear she frowns. “No,” her airy voice comes out chipper, a harsh contrast to the look she was just sporting. “It’s nothing we can deal with right now.”
“But it’s something?”
“It could be nothing.”
We’re talking in riddles and I’m about to let out a yell worthy of a Viking from being annoyed. I absolutely hate cryptic messages. “Fine. Keep whatever secret you want to yourself, see if it does you any good.”
She haughtily sniffs. “I will, thanks.”
How is it this woman raised me into the adult I am today? Sure my parents shaped me into a person with values, morals, and a strict sense of ethics, but Nana Noel made me intome.
Whatever, she’ll come out and say whatever is bothering her at some point. She’s probably just tired of me telling her all news outlets like to cater to creating tall tales to rake in viewers. Eventually she’ll calm down.
“Alright,” I breezily say and move towards the end of the driveway where my older than dirt car awaits. “I’ll chat with you later. I love you.”
“I love you too.” She lifts her withering hand to bid farewell before going back to tending her garden. Effectively dismissing me from the house and off to work.
I meander towards my car, a sinking feeling settling into my bones. Usually I don’t put much stock into my emotional reactions overriding my daily life, but Nana Noel’s comment about the media doesn’t sit well. Then again, news outlets have a tendency to spin things in the light they want to be in. Maybe this is all in my head.
I sigh, pushing my hand through my hair. After a moment of shaking off the ridiculous thoughts, I grab the key fob from my purse and unlock my car. If I don’t leave now I’ll be late to work and that’s one more thing on my list of thingsnotto do when working for my father. Yanking open the car door, I slip inside and look up at the sunshine shining rays of warmth and happiness in my path, reminding me of my mother.
As I pass the wrought iron gate leading out of the property and onto the road, I settle back with ease as a lightness fills me. There’s very few instances when I feel like my mother is with me, as if she’s just barely out of reach but somehow still there. Right now, in the sunlight, I can feel her. Even with all the windows up, AC blasting in my face, a whiff of lavender and eucalyptus tickles my senses. The scent of the soap my mother always used when I was a little girl.
The faint scent teases my nose the entire trip to Hastings Center, located in the heart of New York, where it’s easily accessible to both press and celebrities alike. The tall building reflects the sun’s rays off the glass windows, sparkling like a jewel as it casts a rainbow across the road and onto other buildings. A good omen perhaps to start my work day after the peculiar conversation with Nana Noel.
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