serenity
26 YEARS OLD
What am I doing?I step inside the cabin, with Ashley behind me, and it’s exactly the same as it was eight years ago. Or so I thought…
Above the fireplace is a giant photo of Fran and me the summer I was here. We’re smiling at the camera with our sun-kissed skin and freckles along our noses. My chest tightens at how beautiful and memorable the photo is. Guilt eats away at me for not returning her calls, for letting my anger and hurt stew over the years. If she’d told me she had cancer, I would’ve returned.
“I would’ve been here. She didn’t have to do it all alone.” I fall onto the couch and bury my face in my hands. Ashley’s strong arms wrap around me.
“Hey, hey. Listen, she knows you would have. She didn’t want you coming back here.”
“I’m here now, so what difference did it make?”
“Fran wanted you to finish college. Make a life for yourself and not come back and get mixed up with Adam again.”
I wipe my eyes and stare at Ashley. “I guess you two talked about me, then? What you both thought was best, I’m sure.”
“She was sick when you got here. That’s the only reason your mama let you come in the first place.”
“She’d been sick the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“How’d I not know?”
“Because she didn’t want you to know. She wanted a normal, fun summer with you. And she got that. She died happy. Those were her best memories.”
“It ended so horribly. I was horrible.”
“Listen, Adam admitted he was high and crawled into your aunt’s bed. She never betrayed you. She should’ve told you she’d had a thing with Adam but didn’t want shit to get weird. It did anyway, but she didn’t push things because she thought it was best to let you go. And maybe if you hated her enough, you’d also stay away from Adam. We all knew he was trouble and would’ve caused you more heartache.”
“When I left, my heart wasn’t breaking over him.”
Ashley studies my face, and he reaches up to cup my cheek. I want to lean into him, but I feel too raw. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull his hand away. “I need to unpack and then work on the funeral arrangements.”
I leave him in the living room, closing the door to the bedroom behind me. My eyes meet the paintings on the wall and I smile. All those times I’d fall asleep to these paintings, thinking about the boy who was much too old for me, and all along, he was the artist. I have the painting I took from his room hanging in my apartment bedroom. Even though there’s heartache tied to it, it still gives me comfort.
* * *
Since Aunt Fran knew she was dying, all the funeral arrangements have pretty much been made. My mother hasn’t offered to help and isn’t planning on attending. She’s now holding a grudge that my relationship with my father has been strained and continues to be since that summer. What he did was wrong, and I can’t dismiss that. I’ll never view him the same way.
I begged my parents to come here for me. To do this for me. But they flat-out refused. So now I’m walking into the funeral home alone and unsure who will be in attendance. I’m surprised to see most of Egmont has shown up. The room is full of people. A beautiful woman in the front stands and holds her arms out toward me. Then I see Ashley sitting next to her spot in the pew.
“Zuri?”
“Yes,” she cries.
“Wow. You’ve really grown up. You’re gorgeous!”
“I had braces and got highlights.”
Ashley stands and wraps an arm around her. “Stop it. You’ve always been pretty.”
His eyes are warm and loving on his baby sister. Then he turns to me and they become sympathetic. “We’re here if you need us.”
“I do. And thank you.” I don’t think I can go through this alone. I have so much guilt. I wish I’d made things right. I was so stupid and too quick to lash out. Why didn’t I believe Fran? Why didn’t I stop and listen for five minutes? I harbored that hate for eight years, and now I can never make it right. It’s over, and I’ll never be able to forgive her or receive her forgiveness. Even if I know, deep down, she would’ve forgiven me, it still hurts. It’s left something ugly inside me because I know it was all my fault. My own doing. I behaved like a spoiled, immature brat. My aunt is dead, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be at peace, or if I even deserve it.
A few members of the community come forward and speak about my aunt. Everyone mentions how much she loved me. They all offer loving and adoring words, tell funny stories, and praise the wonderful woman Fran was. And she absolutely was. Yes, she fell in love with the wrong guy and made some poor choices, but she was a good person. She lit up every room she was in, as cliché as that sounds. She had a loud and contagious laugh and was always up for some fun and mischief.
When it’s my turn to speak, my hands shake so badly that I can’t even hold the microphone. I look out into the audience, only able to recognize a few people. Ashley’s kind eyes are on me, and Zuri’s glassy one blink away a few tears. Then my gaze lands on another stunning blown-up photo of Fran and me during our summer together. It’s on display next to some of the flower arrangements.
“Push the limits and live for the minutes.” I say it again, into the microphone this time. “Push the limits and live for the minutes. That’s what Fran taught me during our summer together. It was the only summer we spent with each other, but it was one for the books. She’s the first person to ever get me to go skinny-dipping. She took me out to the rapids, hiking, and… she brought me out of my comfort zone. She taught me how to live. To live for the minutes and every little moment in life. More than anything, Fran taught me what it was like to be loved without even knowing someone. Because she loved me. She didn’t know me when I visited that summer, but she loved me anyway. And I did feel her love.” A cry bubbles in my throat, but I push it back. “I only wish she could know how much I love her and that, in her honor, I plan to continue to push the limits and live for the minutes.”
Ashley comes up and helps me back to my seat. I cry into his shoulder through the rest of the service.