Bookish (24 page)

“How tragic is that?” Jane leaned in and said, “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 Abby 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 Abby?” 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 Abby?” 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 Abby’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 Abby. 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 Isaac was back, I no longer thought the world could be a good place. After finding Auntie Abby 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 Abby’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 Isaac 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 Abby just hours before.

Took the first sip and broke down sobbing.

Chapter Thirty One

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 Abby 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 Abby’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 Abby 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 Abby 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, Drake was absent. The hot yoga group was there, along with hundreds of people Auntie Abby 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 been clogging up my heart.

It didn’t replenish my well of positivity though, and I knew Auntie Abby 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 Abby 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,” Drake said and smashed the side of my head.

I woke again, this time a lamp was on and Drake 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, Aubrey,” he said again, “but I need information.”

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

“Drake, 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!”

It dawned on me what he was saying. He’d been here looking for the jewelry, of course Auntie Abby would have let him in and even taken him to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a chat.

And Auntie Abby hadn’t told him where the jewelry was because a lot of it was from my mom. She probably thought she’d be saving it for me. If only she had given in and given it to him, she’d be alive today.

“Did you hurt my Auntie?” I asked him slowly.

He turned and stared at me, his eyes black expressionless pits. “I did, bitch. And I’ll hurt you too unless you fucking tell me where I can find it!” He charged me and I screamed. He straddled me and wrapped his hands around my throat. I choked and cried against him, but couldn’t gasp enough air into my lungs to make a sound.

I felt the edges of my vision grow dark, and my head began to feel light, as though no longer tethered to my body.

“Drake” I desperately tried to say as he choked me harder. His face wasn’t even human at that moment, he was unrecognizable in his rage.

“Tell me where the jewelry is!” he roared.

I couldn’t tell him anything though, and this seemed to anger him more. He squeezed tighter until my eyes felt as though they were popping and I heard the blood rushing in my ears.

I slowly lost consciousness as I felt myself slip away.

Chapter Thirty Two

“I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Isaac sobbed and held me against his chest. I began to gain awareness as he rocked me gently, stroked my hair and begged me to come back to him.

I tried to smile and tell him I was okay, but I couldn’t quite move my mouth. I vaguely remembered Drake being torn off me, gasping huge gulps of air, and seeing Isaac pummel Drake mercilessly.

I struggled up and looked at the corner. Drake was lying in an unmoving heap and I felt myself locked in Isaac’s embrace.

“Aubrey?” he asked in a harsh voice, “Will you ever forgive me?”

My mind scrambled wildly trying to figure out what there was to forgive. It came back in a flood, the blog post, being booted from the hotel, my overwhelming obsession with Isaac when I’d returned home.

It all felt so meaningless now, as if it had lost all significance in the time it took me to find Auntie Abby’s body to the moment Drake had locked his hands around my throat. I didn’t know what my reaction should be, but I did know I barely felt a thing at that moment. Not for Isaac and not for myself.

He rocked me and I heard sirens in the distance. They grew louder and I shut my eyes, letting myself fall back under the darkness that had claimed me.

The darkness that felt so damned good.

***

“Is she going to live?”

I heard Isaac’s voice, the rhythmic beeping of machines, and a hushed background noise.

I was in a hospital.

“She will be fine. She lost consciousness, and I believe she was hit in the head, but we are expecting her to make a full recovery,” a confident man’s voice sounded from near my feet.

“Thank you,” Isaac said. I felt him take my hand in his and put it to his forehead.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” Isaac said quietly, gripping my hand tightly.

“It wasn’t me,” I mumbled, my voice thick and hoarse.

He froze and seemed to be listening. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt as though somebody had glued them shut.

“It wasn’t me,” I whispered, barely getting the words out.

“Aubrey,” he said, his voice cracking, “Oh god, love. I thought I lost you. When I came in and saw him…fuck…I’ll never leave you again.”

I was confused again, I didn’t know why he was in the hospital.

Or was I in the hospital?

I struggled to get up, pushing against him in the process. He mistook my meaning, pulled back and said, “I understand how you might be upset with me, love, but I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”

He took my hand, clutched it to his chest and left it there. I could feel the beating of his heart and with each pulse, it all came back to me.