The Summer the World Ended (5 page)

“Yeah… screw what they think.”

“You’ll be okay, kid… I got a feeling you’re tough inside.”

Riley looked up. “So… You really found my dad? He wants me?”

“Yep.” Mina grinned. “I got in touch with your mother’s attorney, he had the contact information.”

“What?” Riley blinked. “Mom knew where he was this whole time? She said she had no idea.”

“Well, that could be true. His ‘contact information’ was an email address… that doesn’t mean she knew where he was.”

“Why did he leave?” Riley bit her lip.

Mina’s eyes widened and rolled as she pursed her lips. “That’s something for you to ask him. I honestly don’t know. However, I
do
know that he is
very
keen on having you back. He asked me to make sure you understood he never stopped loving you. The man got himself so worked up to get out here, he hung up on me before I could ask him if he wanted to talk to you. You know, I think the man ran right out his door.”

“I was eight. He didn’t come home from work one day. Mom was all normal and stuff until I asked why Dad wasn’t home yet, and then she cried. She said was I was too little to understand. The best answer I ever got was they decided it was in everyone’s best interest to separate.”

“Not every marriage works out. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to him about that. It’s really not my place to speculate what happened.”

He wants me?
She bit her knuckle and sniffled.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know… I thought he hated us.”

“Okay, enough negativity.” Mina tucked a finger under Riley’s chin and lifted her gaze off the floor. “Grab clean clothes and I’ll show you where you can take a shower. After that, you are eating dinner. Toya isn’t kidding. She will strap you to a chair and spoon-feed you if she has to.”

Riley slid to the edge of the bed, kicked off her sneakers, peeled off her socks, and stood.
Dad’s coming for me.
Dark orange light shimmered through the tiny, prison-like window.
I’m getting out of here.
She shrugged off the sweatshirt and threw it in a ball to the ground next to the bag. After pulling a clean set of clothes out of the small suitcase she’d brought from home, she managed an almost-smile at Mina.

“Thanks for finding him.”

“You’re welcome.” Mina draped a metal bead chain over Riley’s head like a necklace, with a key on it. “This is for your room. Lock your door on the way out.”

She crept out after Mina. The smell of turkey and mashed potatoes flooded the corridor. The dormitory area seemed quiet at this hour, most likely because everyone was already eating. After stooping to lock the door without taking the key off, she followed Mina to the bathroom at the end of the row. She’d been terrified the showers were public, but breathed a sigh of relief at finding private rooms.

“Need anything?”

“Uhm, towels?”

“Inside on the shelf.” Mina gestured at the door. “Put them in the bin in the corner when you’re done.”

Riley slipped inside and locked the door. The plain bathroom area looked like something you’d find in a hotel, complete with a stack of tiny one-use soap bars and shampoo bottles. She felt vulnerable enough being in a strange environment without her mother; the idea of taking a shower here felt wrong… as if to do so would accept that the house she grew up in was no longer her home.

After a few minutes of staring at her toes, she pushed her pajama pants off. The soft, red fabric gathered atop her feet. She scowled at the grinning bears, and kicked them across the room. Her PJ pants hit the wall and snagged on a hook. The sight of them dangling and the thought of how angry she must look brought an unexpected chuckle, though her mirth was short-lived. With a sigh, she shed the rest of her clothes and stepped into the tub, trying not to pay attention to the sobbing woman on the other side of the wall.

One thought kept her going.

I’m not an orphan.

resses had never been high on Riley’s list. It’s not that she disliked them; in the summer, she was more of a shorts and flip-flops girl. Special occasions, and Mom, had sometimes demanded them. Since this unwelcome
special
occasion was all about Mom, she decided to wear one without protest because it’s what her mother would have asked her to do. Another trip to the house, again ‘under guard,’ led to the realization she had no dresses suitable for a funeral. The blue one she’d worn for graduation was too cheerful, and it made her think of her mother’s smile too much.

In Mom’s closet, she had found a plain black dress that fit, albeit the way a sleeping bag fits a broom. Mom probably wore it to some boring office party at the bank the last time it saw the light of day. Mina helped with a couple of safety pins in spots she couldn’t reach and got the dress to a point where it looked reasonable.

Riley occupied the center of the front row of folding chairs in a dim, burgundy room at Samuels Funeral Home, the only person present aside from Mina. Two floral arrangements flanked a white casket. One bore a card signed by the people who worked at the bank branch Mom managed. The other one was from Mina, who lurked by the door out of respect for the family.

What family?
Riley frowned at her kitten heels.
It’s just me and Mom. Aunt Bea won’t show up. Guess I know what the B stands for.
Mother’s old joke sent a lone tear sliding down her cheek.

For over an hour and a half, she sat alone, clutching a tiny purse in her lap and staring at her mother’s body. The mortician had brought the color of life to her face, but Mom looked as though she were made of wax.
She seemed more alive at the hospital.
The wig wasn’t too awful, though the body lying in the casket didn’t look like Mom anymore. Long, straight sand-brown hair gave her the appearance of a forty-year-old, taller, thicker version of Riley. A dark-brown pixie cut had been the norm for at least four years, but she couldn’t find a decent photo to give them.

When she was in sixth grade, one of the tellers had passed away and Mom brought her along to the wake. She couldn’t wait to get out of there. Now, she didn’t want to leave this room.

Bustle by the door preceded an older couple walking over to the casket. They paid their respects and paused by her chair on their way past.

“We’re so sorry about your Mother, dear,” said the woman. “We worked together for ten years. So tragic.”

“So young.” Her apparent husband bobbed his head, looking much like she must’ve looked at the teller’s wake… eager to skip out as fast as possible.

“Thank you,” said Riley.

A few minutes later, a disheveled man about twenty stumbled over to the casket in a t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, and a jacket that belonged to a dress suit. He blinked at the body and wiped his face with one hand, sniffling.

“Whoa… Damn, missus M. That sucks.” He fumbled around as if not sure what to do, knelt on the padded bench and bumbled his way through a few minutes of prayer. He made eye contact with Riley as he stood to leave. “Oh, hi. I’m Scott.” He sniffled again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I work at the bank. You’re the kid, right? She’s got your pic on her desk.” He fidgeted and hurried away, as if expecting her dead mother to lunge up and grab him. “Uh, sorry.”

She watched him walk to the front door, hesitate, and circle back to a seat in the last row.

Another old man stopped by, wan and rickety. He flashed a dour, disapproving expression at Riley before aiming it at Mom. He grumbled as he ambled over to the casket and took a knee, making the sign of the cross as he continued to mumble too low to hear. The longer he muttered, the less Riley cared for him. By the time he’d finished whatever he’d wanted to say and braced a shaking arm on the coffin to stand, her glance had become a glare. He whirled about and toddled right up to her. It appeared to take great effort on his part to present a neutral mood.

“Here you go, child.” He held out a small, rectangular object, which she accepted out of reflex. “I pray you don’t make the same mistakes your mother did.”

Once he walked around to the bank of chairs behind her, she glanced down and discovered the gift was a pocket Bible. She put it on the seat to her right, not too worried if she forgot it there.

A slender woman with deep wrinkles on her face and hair too black to be natural walked by as if Riley didn’t exist. Her outfit and makeup seemed more suited to a college co-ed than someone old enough to be a grandmother. She spent ten minutes talking at Mom as if she were alive. Trivial questions flowed from one to the next without a pause to slip in an answer. Riley wondered if she always did that to people. All Riley got was a two-second wave as the mourner teetered past on extreme heels that made her calves look like dead guinea pigs stuffed into socks.

Eleven more visitors, three married couples, three men, and two women, arrived over the next fifteen minutes. Riley remembered a few of them from bank parties Mom had brought her to. Mrs. Harris was the head teller. Mr. Eaves was the district manager for the security company that handled the bank’s account. The rest all worked at the bank or in the building across the way. Her mother’s former coworkers trickled past one by one, spending a moment to talk to Riley and offer the usual condolences, as if they’d all rehearsed the same lines ahead of time.

I swear I’m going to scream if one more person says she ‘looks natural.’

The dull murmurs of her mother’s former employees and a few regular customers lent a heavy presence to the room behind her. Conversations about work, relatives, pets, and the weather went on for-seeming-ever.
That bald guy didn’t bother to show up.
Riley shifted in her seat, peering over the crowd behind her. No one from the big corporate Christmas party was there, and none of Aunt Bea’s people could be bothered.
Good. She never liked me anyway.

Riley faced forward again, gazing at her mother in hopes of finding a sign of life. Maybe they’d all made a mistake and Mom wasn’t really dead yet. Despite the crowd, she still felt like the only person there.

Metal clanked to her right as a gaunt man in a maroon flannel shirt over a white tee, plain blue jeans, and brown work boots bumped the front row of chairs. A store tag still dangled from his left sleeve. Dark rings lined his eyes, and a few days of beard shaded the lower parts of his face. He didn’t approach the casket, or even look at it, keeping his gaze down as he drifted closer. When he made eye contact with Riley, it lasted all of two seconds, and he seemed almost afraid of her. She squeezed the little purse in her lap as he lowered himself into the seat beside her. An instinctual urge to lean away from him gripped her. Something about him seemed… not quite right. Riley peered over her shoulder, searching for Mina with a ‘help me’ stare.

The man looked at Mother with an expression more tired than grieving. Riley gave up hunting for Mina in the crowd and faced forward.

Who is this dude? Oh, this must be that homeless guy Mom bought lunch for.

She sat stiff as a board, trying to ignore him and force life back into Mother with her eyes.

“You sure got big, Squirrel.”

No one’s called me that since…
Her head popped up, mouth agape. “D-Dad?”