Hush, Hush

by Franco, Lucia

  "Aubrey, please, I want to see you wear it when you walk across the stage."

  I close my eyes, knowing I don't have it in me to fight her when her voice is so weak as she pleads with me. Sitting up, I pull the drawer open and reach inside. There's a little white box with a satin bow. I turn back toward Grammy, hiking my knee up onto the bed. I lift my eyes to hers. She seems so tired.

  "Ms. Shelly helped me look on the internet. She used her phone… Lord knows how she could even read on that thing, but when we came across this, I knew it was the one. Go ahead and open it."

  My hand hesitates on the end of the bow. Grammy sees it and places her hand over mine. I look at her.

  "Please, for me."

  I nod, fighting the tears. Pulling the ribbon, I let the ends fall to the side and push the top of the box up to reveal a rose gold necklace. My lips part on a sigh. It's two rings, one large, one small, intertwined and attached to a thin chain.

  "It reminded me of us. We've always been attached at the hip, well, until you went off to school. I'm the smaller circle, though. You've always had a larger-than-life personality."

  Tears blur my vision. "It's beautiful… I love it. Thank you so much."

  "I got that color to match your mother's necklace. I thought you could wear both of them together."

  My fingers run along the chain I'm wearing. "Grammy, you didn't have to get me this."

  "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."

  I smile at her. Picking up the card it's attached to, I read the printed letters. "Oh, the places you'll go," I read aloud. There's a longer message at the bottom and by the time I'm done reading it, there are tears in her eyes, which only make my already unstable emotions worse.

  "Put it on," she says quietly, and I do.

  The horseshoe necklace my dad gave my mom fits in the center of one of the circles. It's like we're all together again.

  "Wherever you are, wherever you go, you'll have all of us with you."

  She's right. It reminds me of us too, and it makes it that much more special to me.

  "I'll cherish it forever."

  Grammy smiles but I can see the fatigue in her eyes. She lets out a heavy breath.

  "It looks beautiful. Exactly how I imagined it. I can't wait to see you graduate with it."

  Fifty-Nine

  I decided to stay with Grammy all night. I cleaned up her litter boxes, something she fought me tooth and nail on, and then I made her dinner. She was only able to take four bites until she refused any more, saying she was full. She fell in and out of slumber, and when she'd wake, she'd look for me. Something in my gut warned me not to leave. Ms. Shelly set up the oxygen tank for her, and we fell asleep side by side holding hands with her cats surrounding her.

  I'm so glad I listened to my gut.

  Grammy died peacefully in her sleep.

  I knew before I opened my eyes she wasn't here anymore. I laid in bed praying I wasn't right, but when I heard the soft sound of one of her cats crying, my worst fear had been confirmed.

  Ms. Shelly allowed me as much time as I needed to say goodbye, and when hospice came to take Grammy's body away, she held me tight in her arms and let me cry on her shoulder until there were no tears left to give. It felt like a part of me left the world when she did.

  Then, Ms. Shelly handed me an envelope.

  An envelope I'm staring at while I sit by myself in my cap and gown with a diploma in my hand. I've brought the envelope with me everywhere since that day, but I just haven't been able to bring myself to open it. I know what will be written inside, and I'm not ready to read her handwriting or feel her words just yet. It's too fresh. Too real and too heartbreaking.

  Ms. Shelly offered to come to my graduation, but I told her she didn't have to. She surprised me right before I left with flowers and a heartfelt card with some encouraging words. She gave me her phone number and told me to call her whenever I needed her. I thought it was incredibly sweet.

  Now I'm sitting in a room with other graduates and their smiling and laughing families. I'm not crying for once because I know Grammy wouldn't want that, but I need to get out of here before I lose it. I've yet to go a day without tears, and today has been by far the hardest for me.

  Standing, I take off my cap and gown and fold them into a bag. I switch my high heels to a pair of flats so I can walk comfortably to the train station. Just as I'm about to place the envelope in my bag for safe keeping, I feel a vibration. Frowning, I retrieve my phone and look down at the screen.

  Blocked Caller.

  My heart clenches. I swipe the screen open and read the text message.

  Blocked Caller: Congratulations, Aubrey. The offer still stands for your nonprofit when you're ready.

  Those damn tears fill my eyes and I sniffle. I shove my phone back inside my bag and grab the rest of my stuff. My jaw trembles, my chest tight once again. James has been relentless with his calls. My life is in shambles and I'm not trying to complicate it further by talking to him. When I decide I'm ready to open the foundation, I'll do it on my own.

  Swallowing back my emotions, I glance up, and for a moment I meet Natalie's gaze.

  My lips part at suddenly seeing my best friend. She's not staring at me with harsh blue eyes like she's done over the past couple of weeks, she's looking at me with confusion. Her gaze shifts around me. I turn away. I've been completely alone and in the dark about Grammy's death, and seeing Natalie brings too many feelings back to the surface.

  As fast as my legs can handle, I'm rushing from the congested room in desperate need of fresh air. I step outside and power walk a few blocks before I'm on a train and headed back to Queens. The moment I step inside Grammy's house, I do exactly what she’s planned to do and pour two shots of her favorite sambuca. I inhale deeply, then lift one of the glasses to my lips, my hand shaking a little.

  "Cheers, Grammy," I say to myself, then take her shot as well. I grimace over the gross black licorice taste then slam the shot glasses to the table. Goose bumps break out over my arms.

  I glance around the quiet kitchen. The fucking tears start again, and my heart can’t take anymore. I break down and cry hysterically. I'm sobbing harder than I have yet. Fat tears drip down my cheeks and into my mouth. I feel like I'm dying inside, and it'll never get any better. I don't understand how I'm supposed to go on with life like everything’s okay. It's not okay. Nothing is okay. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She should've been here with me. I should’ve been celebrating with my best friend. But now they’re both lost to me, and I’m alone.

  I'm sliding to the ground crying my eyes out with her cats all around me like they know I need them. Maybe Grammy was right. Maybe her cats needed her as much as she needed them, because I sure feel that way right now. I don't know what I'm going to do, but whatever it is will involve her fur balls. She'd want that, even if I do suffer from severe allergies.

  I'm pretty drunk by late afternoon when my cell phone rings. I'm in no mood, and if I see Blocked Caller, I just might lose my shit altogether.

  Reaching into my bag, I grab my phone and see it's a number I don't recognize. I'm a little relieved it's not him.

  "Hello?" I say.

  "Ms. Abrams?"

  I frown. "Yes, who's calling?"

  "This is Nicholas calling from the funeral home to let you know your urn is ready a little early."

  I clench my eyes shut. Today is just not my day.

  "Thank you," I say quietly.

  "I understand there will be a small service held here a few days from now. You can come in whenever you like to spend time alone with her. Otherwise, please come in a few moments early to discuss the final payment. If there is anything you require, let us know so we can accommodate you during your time of need."

  I nod, more to myself than anything, and tell him I'll be there an hour early and hang up. I wasn't going to hold a funeral, but Grammy had friends who would want to say goodbye, so I opted for a small celebration of life.

  Exhaling
a heavy breath, I place my cell phone on the table and spot the envelope hanging out of my bag. I blink, debating whether I want to open it. One of the cats rubs up against me, its tail wrapping around my leg. I glance down as it looks up at me. I swear it's telling me to rip the Band-Aid off and just open the damn letter already.

  Taking a seat on the plastic-covered chair, I pour another glass of the licorice-tasting alcohol, then run my finger under the seal. My stomach is a knotted mess of nerves as I pull out the letter and flip back the folds.

  I reread the letter multiple times until the words are blurry and there are teardrops on the paper smearing the ink. I place it on the table and drop my head into my hands. I'm nauseous and I can't seem to catch my breath, like I'm going to have a panic attack and vomit at the same time. Her will is enclosed, and so is the original diagnosis.

  Grammy had cancer much longer than I was aware. She said she knew I had a lot on my plate and didn't want to add more to it, so she kept it a secret. She felt it was the right thing to do. Apparently when she found out about the cancer it had already spread to multiple parts of her body, but she wasn't going to treat it because the survival rate was still too low. Grammy said she hopes I'm not upset with her and hopes one day I can forgive her for keeping the illness from me. She said she's going to miss me so much, that I was the greatest thing to happen to her, but that she's happy she can be with my parents again, and how all three of them will be looking down watching over me.

  Oh, and she wants me to watch over her babies. Like she even has to ask that.

  I'm both upset and so angry that I stand and throw everything off the table in a rage. The cats scamper away in a panic. I scream, letting it all out. If I had known any of this, I would've done what I could to help her. I would've spent more time with her. I would've talked to her more, tried to be around to help more. Hunted down the best doctors. Anything. Now the guilt is eating away at me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I thought she looked sick, I thought something was wrong with her, but I didn't push the issue because she’d insisted she was fine.

  I'm crying and crying, hugging the cats and sneezing, when I hear a ding come from my cell phone. I get on my knees and scrummage for it, looking underneath everything I’d tossed to the floor to find it. I'm a little drunk, but need more to drink. I don't want to feel anything more for the rest of the night.

  Locating my phone, my heart sinks when I see Natalie’s name on my screen.

  I swallow hard and swipe a shaky finger to open her message.

  Nat: Hey.

  Hey. Three letters that have the power to make me want to respond. Three little letters that have the power to make me feel all sorts of ways. Three stupid letters that make me miss my best friend so damn much.

  But I don't respond. I know if I do, I'll just end up opening up to her and crying even more. She won't want to hear it, though, because she hates me. And since I know how mad she is, I'm sure she's wondering when I'm going to move my stuff out.

  Instead, I just close my phone and attempt to clean up the mess I made. An hour or so later, after everything is locked up, I climb into Grammy's bed with her cats and cry myself to sleep.

  Sixty

  The celebration of life felt a lot longer than the two hours it was. The smiles and stories I heard about Grammy made me happy but also filled me with a deep sadness unlike anything I've ever felt. She didn't have a lot of friends by any means, but she had so much love surrounding her I wasn't aware of. For that, I can find a little reprieve.

  I've been sitting alone for about an hour now in the front of the room staring at the best urn the funeral home had and a picture of Grammy. I take a tissue out of my purse and wipe my tears away, then crumble the tissue in my hand. My jaw quivers a little. I'm not ready to leave. When I step outside those wooden doors it'll feel like I'm leaving her behind. I'm not ready for that. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, so I stay longer. Another round of fresh tears slip from my eyes. Just as I'm patting them away, I hear the door open behind me. I'm sure the director is here to tell me it's time to go.

  Only it's not the director. It's Natalie. And a whole slew of fresh tears fill my eyes when she takes a seat right next to me and holds my hand in hers. She doesn't say anything and neither do I. She just sits with me and allows me to silently cry.

  "I thought it was strange that I didn't see Grammy at the graduation," she finally says, her voice quiet. I can tell she's crying.

  "She died a little over a week before graduation."

  Natalie tightens her hand in mine. "You should've told me."

  I flatten my lips. I don’t say anything. It's hard to find words when I'm struggling inside with all the wrong turns I've made and the people I've let down. I couldn't call her and tell her, not after everything that's happened.

  "I'm not okay," she continues, and my heart breaks a little further. "We're not okay. We're not friends, but I loved Grammy too. I wanted to be here for both of you."

  I nod over and over. I won't argue with that.

  "Thank you."

  I take out another tissue and hand her one, then I take one for myself. We wipe our tears and sit quietly for a little while until the director does come in and tell me it's time to close up. He informs me I can make arrangements to come back and pick up the flowers and photo tomorrow if I like. Since it's already so late, I agree to do that, thank him, then take the urn and walk outside with Natalie.

  As we step near the curb, I can barely make eye contact with her. My guilt is worse than ever knowing she still came here for me.

  "Thanks for coming," I say, then exhale a heavy breath. I look at her. "I'll make plans to move my stuff out of your apartment soon. Just give me a little time, please. I know I have no right to ask for anything, but I am for this."

  She bites her bottom lip and looks away. She hesitates. "Do you want to get coffee?"

  "Really?"

  She nods, her lips pressed between her teeth, and we start walking side by side.

  I take her to a little café around the block and we order two cappuccinos. We're sitting across from each other, stirring the light brown foamy liquid. I know she wants to talk but getting the first few words out are always the hardest.

  "Natalie," I start the conversation. "You have to know I never meant to hurt you."

  She inhales deeply, then looks at me. "It's a strange feeling. I don't think you meant to hurt me, but you did. You hurt me more than anyone ever could. I want to come back from that, but I don't know how I can."

  My jaw trembles and I bite down on my lip. "I know. And for that, I'm so sorry. It's the last thing I wanted."

  She takes a sip then places her cup down. Natalie looks me directly in the eyes. I hold my breath.

  "Why? Why did you do it?" The anguish in her voice crushes my heart. "Please, give it to me real and don't bullshit me."

  I shake my head. "I never bullshitted you, Nat, I didn't. I was telling you the truth when I said we were paired for a job through Sanctuary Cove. I didn't know James was your dad until I met him at the charity function."

  "So the guy from the club you were falling for, the one you liked too much, it really was about my dad?"

  I nod and she scowls, so I quickly continue, hoping it defuses her temper, "But I didn't know it was him at first, I swear. He'd been a member of the club for a while."

  "But you didn't actually sleep with him when you were on the job. You slept with him afterward, after you knew he was my dad."

  I nod and try to speak, but she puts a hand up to stop me.

  "What was the turning point? What made you go through with it and keep seeing him? Didn't you ever think about how much this would hurt me?" She's not angry. She's genuinely upset and wants to know the truth. Her jaw is trembling and that causes more tears to fill my eyes. "You have to know I'd never do that to you."

  I flinch. The worst part is, I do know she'd never do that. But then again, I didn't think I would either.

  "
Just fucking say it, Aub, Tell me the damn truth. I deserve to know."

  So I tell her.

  "You knew I connected with a client. You knew how he made me feel. He tried to see me over and over until he outwitted me."

  I tell her about the night with Reece, how James tricked me, how he said he was already falling for me. She's as pale as a ghost and looks like she's going to vomit.

  "I went to Christine that same night. Just because I ended it doesn't mean I ever stopped thinking about him, just like you never stopped thinking about that other guy either. Did I ever think I'd see him again? Absolutely not. So imagine my shock when I meet him standing next to you. Why do you think I left?"

  "You were going to see Daniel."

  "I never made it there. I went home, but James followed me."

  Her jaw drops in disbelief. Eyes wide, she says, "He was there with you while I was at the event with my mom?"

  I nod.

  "Un-fucking-real."

  "I told him to leave, to go back, but he pushed…and I missed him." A tear slips out and I quickly wipe it away. "He thought it was some weird way of fate working out."

  "But you had a boyfriend," she reminds me.

  I take a sip of my coffee, feeling bad for how Daniel found out. He didn't deserve that.

  "I didn't love Daniel and it was wrong of me to lead him on. You knew he was more of a thing to help keep my head on straight and accept the fact I was a prostitute."

  She bobs her head to the side, agreeing with me.

  "Anyway, James was relentless and told me to name my price. I won't lie, I liked being around him, I liked our conversations, I liked that he was persistent. He'd been telling me for some time to name my price, before we knew the truth. I always said no because I knew where it would lead. Then he said it again in our apartment that night. I was so worried you were going to come home that I finally caved and threw out that ridiculously high fucking number, assuming he'd say no."