SKYLAR
The house was finally silent.
Ricky and the rest of the band said their goodbyes moments ago and, with one final click, the house went back to its familiar calm. Only it wasn’t the same.
My stomach growled with persistence as it had for the last two days. Food wasn’t appealing when everything on my tongue felt as bitter as the loss I’d suffered. But now, the leftover smells of the reception drifted up the stairs and rattled my overly empty middle.
I took each step slowly, hoping the dread I felt earlier wouldn’t return. Even with Cody by my side, the string of condolences did more to scrape at the wound than heal my heart.
The sound of water running stopped my descent. My Aunt Josephine was washing and loading dishes. She still looked completely put together. Hair in a tight bun, her sleek black jacket buttoned with only a white collar showing.
Glasses clattered as she loaded dish after dish, her rhythm never stopping.
Then a slip.
The tumbler fell from her soapy hands and shattered on the floor.
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch or jump out of the way as shards of glass flung across the kitchen tile. Then she did something I never thought possible. She covered her face and began to sob.
It’s a strange feeling when you see someone break. Especially someone who always appeared so solid, so unmovable. It was then I saw what my dad had been saying all along. Josie and I shared the same pain, felt the same loss. We just coped differently.
She was do, do, do. And I was hide, hide, hide.
The woman in front of me wasn’t my enemy. She was my family, and that list was becoming frighteningly small.
Shuffling into the kitchen as quietly as possible, I felt an odd sense of strength. She needed me.
At the sound of my entry, Aunt Josephine looked up. Her posture suddenly stiffened as she worked to get herself back into the poised professional she was used to being. “Skylar. I’m sorry. I thought you were upstairs.” She walked to the pantry, pulled out the broom and began to sweep. “There’s a lot of food left if you’re hungry.”
As much as she tried to sound in control, tears still streamed down her checks onto her collar. She swept furiously, pushing together the glass as if doing so would piece back together our now broken life.
My feet moved before I knew what I was doing, and soon I had Aunt Josephine in my embrace. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The broom clattered on the floor, and her arms were around me, too. Her head pressed into the curve of my neck. I’d never noticed before, but we were the same height.
We held on, mourning, sharing, comforting until neither of us could shed another tear. She released me and stood straight, smiled through her smeared mascara. “I’m guessing Donnie’s giving himself a high-five right now.”
She started laughing right after those words, a sound I’d never heard before. Her laugh was his. Low and solid, coming deep from the gut.
“You laugh like him,” I said, still reeling from the sound.
She straightened her jacket and took a long draw of breath. “You laugh like your mother.”
An ache curled around my heart. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. Mom never called you a spinster.”
Josie laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure she did. Your mom and I used to fight like street cats on a bad day. But I loved her. And I loved your dad.” She reached out, took my hand. “I love you too.”
I squeezed back. “I guess that’s good. We’re all that’s left.”
She let go of my hand and picked up the abandoned broom, soon sweeping the rest of the glass into a tight pile.
I leaned over, held the dustpan as she filled it.
“There are lots of papers to be signed. Now that you’re eighteen, your father’s assets are yours. There’s also a trust, music rights and property.” She trailed off and I wanted to cringe.
Ten minutes. That’s the most she could go without thinking logistics. Oh, well, one moment of bonding was not going to erase her personality.
“Can we discuss it later?” I stood, walked the broken pieces over to the trashcan and dumped them in.
She leaned against the counter, pushed down the stray hairs around her head. “We can. I just need to know one thing. Are you leaving?”
I paused, never considering that not only was I now an adult, but there was no longer anyone here to direct my path.
“Ricky talked to me about you going to stay with him. At least until college starts in the fall. I can handle the sale of the house. If that’s what you want.” She hesitated, obviously trying to be careful not to push too hard.
I thought of Cody and knew I didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to join Ricky in some bachelor pad in southern California where he’d parade women in and out and tell me what to do. “Can I stay here until I figure out what I want?”
Somehow the idea of Josie being right down the street gave me peace. It was like my father knew when he moved us here that this moment would happen, and I would need her.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I’d like that very much.”