Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
A single tear trickled down my cheek.
“I can do this.”
We arrived early. I had this thing about being early. I had to be early. If I wasn’t, the ever present weight on my chest got heavier, the later it got, the heavier the pressure was. Which was funny, considering my mom was always late. No one got annoyed with her whenever she finally arrived, smiling, beautiful, and full of life. I spent most of my teenage and adult life hurrying her, dragging her along so we’d be on time. She’d always said she’d be late to her own funeral. It was some kind of sick irony or cosmic joke that she hadn’t actually “arrived” yet, considering the hearse was running late.
“They should fire the dude,” Bex declared from beside me, her dark glasses obscuring her face. “I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stressful day to begin with. You’ve got people like ... fucking mourning, ready to say their last goodbyes, and it’s like … sorry peeps had to stop for a latte. Body’ll be here soon,” she babbled, sounding disgusted.
I failed to be offended by her demeanor. It was Bex. She didn’t have a filter.
“There’s no one here, Bex. We’re good,” I reassured her, squeezing her arm.
She pushed her glasses up, revealing her kohl-rimmed eyes which narrowed on me.
“You’re here, Lil. The grieving daughter. I’m giving that guy a piece of my mind when he gets his creepy ass here,” she declared angrily. “Anyone driving dead bodies for a living’s got a screw loose,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
I smiled, something catching my eye. I held out my hand. “Look he’s here, and she’s here,” I choked up when I realized the “she” I was referring to was my mother’s body. It wasn’t her. Her soul. That was gone, I knew. Squashed out like a burnt out candle. This was just the shell that was left.
Bex squared her shoulders, her eyes narrowing. “Right.” She looked like she was going to point her combat boot in the direction of where a thin looking guy was getting out of the driver’s seat. She could definitely take him. Though she may have been short and skinny, she was a fighter. She had to be, the way she’d grown up.
I reached to grasp her hand, stopping her. I was about to calm her down when Aiden, who’d been silent, cut in.
“I’ll go talk to him, sort things out,” he muttered. He focused on Bex. “Stay with Lily,” he ordered tightly.
Bex looked like she was going to say something, then her eyes met mine and she nodded.
Aiden kissed my head, then left.
Bex and I silently watched him walk over the grass, holding hands.
“She’s really gone isn’t she?” I asked the air, my eyes glued to the vehicle holding the last physical remainder of the woman that raised me. Saved me. Saved us.
Bex’s hand squeezed mine. “Yeah,” she replied quietly.
I nodded. Yeah. She was gone. I felt the pins and needles threatening to bring back the feelings. That big sadness that lurked in the corner of my mind, like some kind of assassin, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Nice place for Faith to catch her last sunset,” Bex said finally.
“Yeah,” I agreed, watching the sun move closer to its hiding place beyond the horizon. “She picked it,” I continued.
“Of course she did,” Bex smiled at the horizon.
My eyes prickled as I thought back to that day, that conversation.
I’d been reading one of Mom’s favorite books to her, she was losing the ability to grasp the edges, focus her eyes on the words. Her ability to hold a paintbrush had long gone, I think a piece of her heart went too, not that you’d ever know. Not that her cheerful smiles would betray a hint of sadness, or of defeat.
“I want to see the sunset, on my last day on earth,” she said suddenly, interrupting my sentence.
I looked up from the book, failing to stop my inward flinch every time I laid eyes on my fading mother. Her hair was gone, a tie-died head scarf fastened like a turban around her bald head. Her skin was yellow, a sign of her organs shutting down. Black circles rimmed her eyes. Her cheekbones protruded, she was a bag of bones underneath the thin polyester blanket. She looked like a skeleton. Her eyes never lost their sparkle, though, or their vibrancy. The one thing cancer couldn’t steal from her. It was robbing her of her life, it was yet to rob her of her soul.
“Okay, Mom,” I said, choking on my words slightly. “We’ll watch the sun set every night,” I promised. “I’ll make the nurses wheel you out,” I added, knowing it would be a feat, but I’d make sure it was something I’d get done.
Mom smiled warmly, the expression the only familiar thing on the alien face apart from the eyes.