Covered, Part Three

by Mina Holt

  “I suppose I’ll never be able to convince you otherwise, but I’m concerned that you’re going to live your life in a fantasy instead of finding somebody to love you,” she said, concern painting her eyes.

  “It’s not a fantasy. I really believe he feels the same way, and once his family gets over the shock of his secret coming out, they’ll support him coming back to me.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t every family just want their kids to be happy?” I smiled broadly at her and watched her slowly give in.

  “Fine,” she said, “I’ll support you in whatever dang fool scheme you have to win him back.”

  “Thank you,” I said and stood up. I yawned and stretched and decided to head for bed. “Love you, good night!”

  “Good night to you too,” she replied, “And I love you too! Never forget it.”

  “How could I?” I laughed and bounded up the stairs so I could meet Gavin in my dreams.

  ***

  A few days passed with nothing said of my renewed interest in Gavin. Trent didn’t come by for his usual Sunday stroll in the park, and he hadn’t returned my texts ever since that night.

  I guess even friends had their limit of how much Gavin talk they could handle. Or he’d been secretly crushing on me the entire time.

  Sylvie believed it was the latter, Marta the former.

  “There is no way he was hanging around with you just to be a friend,” Sylvie said as she was rearranging some books on the shelf.

  “Men and women can be friends, but maybe he got sick of hearing about Gavin the wonder pony,” Marta suggested.

  “Ha,” Sylvie retorted, “would he have run away if Sarai was talking about a problem with a female friend? No, he would have stuck around a listened and hoped that one day she would lift her skirt and let him have some fun.”

  “Sylvie, there’s no need to be crude,” I said, my face blushing at the thought of anybody but Gavin being anywhere near the underside of my skirt.

  “Nonsense,” Marta said, “Trent seemed like a nice guy. Maybe nice guys just want to hang out and talk about the weather, not some model who happens to be the ex boyfriend.”

  “Just agree to disagree and move on!” I yelled with a laugh, “Seriously, we’ll never know unless Trent suddenly texts me an explanation.”

  “Fine,” they both grumped and we continued on our day.

  ***

  A couple days later I had enough of Trent’s pouting, I stopped by his uncle’s store.

  The bell jingled as I opened the door and walked in. Robert was at the counter reading a magazine, nothing had changed except a thin layer of dust on the shelves. They weren’t a very busy store apparently.

  “Sarai, how are you?” he said as I walked in.

  “I’m good,” I replied, “but I’m here about Trent. Is he around?”

  “No,” he said, looking confused, “I thought he was spending some time with you.”

  “I haven’t seen him since Friday night,” I said slowly, “Have you not heard from him at all?”

  “He told me you two were going to an art show, when I woke up my car had been returned and he’d left a note saying you guys were going to be spending time together,” he said.

  “And you didn’t think that was strange?”

  “Why would it be, you’re dating.”

  A shock raced through my body. Dating? “No we’re not,” I exclaimed, “Oh my god, what’s going on here?”

  “Shit. He might be using again,” Robert said, his eyes darkening as he spoke. “I really thought he was going to stay clean this time, but he’s back to his old ways. Lying every time he opens his damn mouth.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shifting from one foot to the next, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Robert sighed, ran his hands through his hair and said, “No. Not a god damned thing. Drugs rule his life now, and I just hope he knows to stay away.”

  “Me too,” I replied and left the store.

  Driving back to Auntie G’s, I tried to think about the last few times I’d hung out with Trent. Nothing had seemed off, not even at the art show.

  He had spent a lot of time with his friends, but that didn’t seem out of the ordinary. What had triggered his relapse?

  I just hoped it had nothing to do with me.

  Chapter Six

  Three days after the visit to Robert’s store, I still hadn’t heard from Trent. I had to force myself to forget about him, to let it go. I wasn’t going to be able to save him from drugs, not if he was hell bent on being a junkie.

  It hurt, but I couldn’t help him until he decided to help himself.

  “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in his life,” Auntie G told me at the kitchen table during our morning tea and toast breakfast.

  “I’m not,” I replied, “everybody comes into your life for a reason, right?”

  “Yes, I have said that many times over the years, but sometimes those reasons suck.”

  “I know, but I’m trying not to dwell on the negative. I have Gavin to win back and the future to focus on.”

  “You’re bloody obsessed with him still, aren’t you?” she spat. “Sarai, please, promise me you’ll let it go if he doesn’t respond once he’s back in town. Promise me you’ll move on.”

  “I promise,” I laughed, “But don’t worry, true love always wins. That’s the one thing I believe in this world.”

  “You are the eternal optimist, and I will confess that I secretly hope you will get your happy ending with him. I do like his fine ass,” Auntie G grinned and winked at me. “But never forget it. It’s easier to make it through life with a positive attitude. Be happy, and be open to let positivity flow through you.”

  “You’re the reason I am such an eternal optimist, and I thank you because you’ve taught me to see things in a bright light. And he does have a fine ass,” I replied and grabbed her hand. We giggled together and after a moment I added, “I know I don’t thank you enough, but thank you.”

  “Pfffft You have nothing to thank me for. I should thank you for putting up with my cranky old ass.”

  I laughed and finished my tea and toast.

  We spent the morning in the garden, she showed me a few things to help me get over my black thumb, and I went to work in the afternoon.

  It’s funny how a simple day can become so significant in your life that you’ll never forget it. The day I met Gavin, the day I left Paris, and that day with Auntie G. So powerful that they’ll be etched in my memory forever.

  During work I got a text from Jane. She had the news I’d been dying for. Gavin was back in town, his plane had gotten in this morning.

  I squealed, showed Sylvie and Marta the text, and listened to their exhaustive plans to win Gavin’s love.

  Jane then texted to meet up after work, for dinner and drinks and to go over our plan of attack. I agreed and couldn’t wait to see Gavin again.

  We met at a simple pub, Ethan was out of town on business so he didn’t join us.

  “Okay,” Jane said as soon as we ordered, “I think we need to accidentally meet somewhere. Ethan and I will drag Gavin out and run into you. Make it seem like we didn’t plan it”

  “Oh, that’s good,” I replied, “We need somewhere kinda sexy but nothing too crowded. Maybe a restaurant?”

  “Too fussy,” she said, “Maybe a concert?”

  “Too loud,” I replied, “Oh, I know, how about at a park? One of those outdoor movies they play near the water in the summertime?”

  “Oh, perfect!” she said and started looking on her phone for a time and place. We settled on one the following weekend, and spent the evening chatting and gossiping about Gavin.

  She reassured me that he had been truly miserable since the blog incident, and had barely been able to go out in public. Everything that I’d read had probably been manufactured by his PR team to take away from the Baby Charlie story.

  “How tragic is that?” Jane leaned in and sai
d, “It’s incredible that somebody who seems to have everything came from nothing.”

  “It really is,” I replied, “and I love him more for it.”

  I just hoped he would forgive me and we could go on in our lives together. Optimism, I reminded myself. We will get back together.

  ***

  I got home late. I hadn’t been drinking, but I had been enjoying Jane’s company. Something was off the minute I walked up the steps and saw there were no lights on.

  Auntie G always left lights on for me, and since it was only midnight, she should be waiting up for me.

  I pulled out my key for the door lock, pushed it in and the door swung open before I even turned it.

  “Auntie G?” I whispered as I stepped inside. “Are you here?”

  I heard one of the cats meow, a plaintiff sound in the silence of the house. Otherwise it was quiet, too quiet.

  Something felt wrong, and I didn’t know how to proceed. I pulled my phone out, dialled 9-1-1 and held my finger on “send” as I walked through the house.

  Nothing seemed disturbed until I got to the kitchen. The table was overturned, there were broken dishes everywhere, and the cats had obviously been lapping at the milk spilled across the floor.

  “Auntie G?” I called out again. And again, nothing.

  The cats seemed skittish, they rushed in and out of shadows as I passed, none of them wrapping around my legs looking for attention.

  I crept up the stairs and held my breath down the hall to Auntie G’s room. The door was slightly ajar, I pushed it open and screamed.

  Everything was torn apart, her bedding, dressers, mattress…it was all tossed around the room as if a hurricane had gone through.

  That wasn’t the worst part though.

  Lying on the middle of her pile of blankets was Auntie G. She wasn’t moving.

  I hit “send” and somehow managed to communicate through my tears that I needed an ambulance. The operator had me put the phone on speaker and talked me through some basic first aid until the paramedics arrived.

  I gave her mouth to mouth, tried to stop the blood that was flowing from a head wound, but even I knew that she was gone.

  By the time the paramedics did get there, I could barely breathe through my tears and hysterical gulping.

  I wanted to go with her to the hospital, but they made me stay behind to talk to the police. I think even they knew there wasn’t anything that could be done to save her.

  That image of her body splayed out, blood pouring from the side of her head, her skull crushed and her eyes lifeless.

  That will never leave me.

  Something died in me that night, as the police were interviewing me and going over the crime scene.

  My optimism. I no longer cared if Gavin was back, I no longer thought the world could be a good place. After finding Auntie G like that, I had my answer.

  There was no good in the world, and nothing I did would change that.

  I sat in a stupor for hours as detectives and forensic technicians combed over every square inch of our home.

  Our home. Me and Auntie G’s. Although it was mine now.

  Finally a young officer approached me and said, “Would you like a ride to the hospital? They need somebody to sign paperwork to release the body to the coroner.”

  “She’s dead?” I asked, stunned. Part of me, that stupid little optimistic sliver that still lived, had hoped she somehow made it through.

  “Nobody told you?” he asked, looking stricken.

  “No, but I knew,” I replied with dry eyes. I was numb.

  We drove to the hospital in silence. He tried to make polite small talk, but I couldn’t even muster up enough strength to reply.

  The rest is a blur, thank god. I remember seeing her body on a bed with a sheet draped on it. I signed papers, sat in the hallway and stared at a blank wall until somebody offered to take me home.

  Back to her house.

  I walked through looking at the blue fingerprint dust everywhere, the blood stain on her carpet, and the ruined furniture, and I wondered how I could possibly stay here.

  But the cats, all the damn cats. They needed to be taken care of.

  I closed the door to her room and decided to call the clean up crew the police had recommended in the morning.

  I wandered to the kitchen, still unable to sleep, and tipped the table upright. I swept up all the pieces of broken ceramics, and tossed them in the garbage. I turned around and craved her there with me like nothing I’d ever felt. A punch in the gut longing that made my feelings for Gavin seem like child’s play.

  She was gone.

  I noticed something under the butcher block near the stove. I got on my knees and pulled out her teapot. Somehow it had survived intact and still had the lid firmly in place.

  I opened it and inhaled, it was the loose leaf tea we’d had just that morning.

  I put the kettle on, sat at the table, poured the hot water in the pot when it was ready, brewed the same cup of tea I’d shared with Auntie G just hours before.

  Took the first sip and broke down sobbing.

  Chapter Seven

  The cleaning crew did an amazing job. It was strange after somebody dies how things kick into motion and happen without much help from me.

  Insurance called to cover the funeral. Her lawyer called to go over the will. The utility companies called to put everything in my name. Mail still came for her, and slowly but surely it would change to my name and Auntie G would be rolled out of existence except to those who knew her.

  Her hot yoga group turned out to be a godsend. I was unable to make decisions or cook for myself those first few days. It turned out I didn’t mind the taste of vegan lentil loaf after all.

  Or it just goes well with a side helping of grief. I didn’t know.

  Auntie G’s will had been precise. I was given the house, the cats, all her belongings, and her investments. The lawyer was going to go through the paperwork and find out what the current total of the investments would be, but Auntie G was a hippy, not a stock broker. I wasn’t about to quit my day job.

  She had even outlined the details of her funeral, thank god. Or goddess, according to the hot yoga group.

  The day of the funeral…or celebration of life, as Auntie G decided it should be called, was sunny and perfect. We were all meeting at a little park on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. I’d gotten a special permit to scatter her ashes off the side so she could be spread out over the rocks and water and rejoin the life cycle.

  I didn’t know if I was going to be able to do it.

  I woke up feeling extremely hollow and extremely alone.

  I stood in the middle of her cleared out bedroom for a good hour, communing with her and telling her how much I missed her. That was my celebration of life for her, in private.

  I picked up her ashes and drove to the park and was astounded by the turn out. Cars lined the streets for miles, people were walking up as I drove by. I found a spot that Marta had saved for me near the cliffs, got out and was surrounded by well wishers.

  Marta and Sylvie stood by my side. Jane and Ethan showed up to lend their support. Robert from the jewelry store was there, Trent was absent. The hot yoga group was there, along with hundreds of people Auntie G had taught, helped, talked to or made friends with over the years.

  Never underestimate the social power of the crazy cat lady.

  I read her poem, we sung her song, and I had to open the urn to release the ashes. I’d been doing pretty good up to that point, but I lost it then. I did the thing I hated most of all. I cried in public. No, cried would be an understatement. I sobbed my heart out in front of all those people, completely unabashedly and uncaring of what they thought.

  Marta helped me open the urn and together we released my aunt. The wind picked her up and I saw her ashes blow across the rocks and all the way to the ocean. It felt freeing, letting her go like that. Even crying in public. All of it freed me from the clotting grief that had bee
n clogging up my heart.

  It didn’t replenish my well of positivity though, and I knew Auntie G would think that was a damn shame.

  Eventually, I promised myself and her, eventually I would get there again. But not today.

  ***

  People didn’t clear out of the house until the evening. I was exhausted and appreciated the help cleaning up after the luncheon, but wanted to be alone. I waved off Marta’s suggestion that she spend the night, and promised to call her first thing in the morning.

  I closed the front door, walked across the living room and curled up on the big velvet chair Auntie G would read in. I pulled her afghan over me and could still smell her on it.

  I must have dozed off, because I woke with a start in darkness. I hadn’t turned on the lights before I sat down.

  I moved to get up and felt something beside me. I looked up and saw a tall, dark figure.

  “I’m sorry,” Trent said and smashed the side of my head.

  I woke again, this time a lamp was on and Trent was sitting on the sofa staring at me. He was fidgeting, his legs were jumping and he was chewing his fingernails. He looked horrible, he’d lost weight and his kind, intelligent eyes had been replaced by those of a scavenger, dark and fast.

  “I’m sorry, Sarai,” he said again, “but I need information.”

  I tried to sit up but my hands were tied and my head throbbed

  “Trent, what’s going on? Do you need help?”

  “I need money.”

  “I have money.”

  “Not enough. I need your Aunt’s jewelry.”

  “What jewelry?”

  “The stuff she had cleaned. That shit is worth a small fortune.”

  “What? That old costume jewelry? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!” he barked and stood up. He paced the room and looked back and forth nervously.

  “Okay, okay,” I replied slowly, “Maybe it’s in her room. Why don’t we go up there and check it out.”

  “It’s not in her room!” he screamed at me, “I couldn’t find it the other day!”