Mina burrowed further under the covers of Bob’s bed, leaving Greta’s hand in midair, holding out the mug of chamomile tea.
“Just a sip or two? You haven’t slept at all. You need to sleep, Mina.” There was no answer from the covers. In fact, she hadn’t said a word since Greta had to leave the cops in the living room, walk up to Mina’s childhood bedroom, and inform her that she no longer had a living parent. That room might hold memories of happiness before, but now it was also going to be inextricably linked to the news that her father was dead.
Greta knew that if she lived to a hundred, she’d never forget the look on the little girl’s face. Disbelief, horror, and most of all, despair.
Mina had often expressed her frustration that kids had to just do what everybody said, go where they were told, eat what was put in front of them. Now she wouldn’t even have the familiarity of routine. Greta had no idea what to tell her, because she had no idea what was going to happen next.
“Please just one sip? For me?” Tears continued to roll silently onto the already-soggy pillow as Mina shook her head. Greta was swallowing past a lump of her own at this point. She would have done anything to protect Mina, but no one can protect anyone from death. Watching the pain rack her ward’s tiny body hurt her too.
More than she knew you could hurt for someone else.
She sent a quick text to the girls.
She still won’t talk. At what point do I call a professional? Greta had no idea where the line from grief to medical shock was drawn. She never felt this type of fear before. Mina had been in her care for a long time. It often felt like she was a parent, but she wasn’t. And even if Bob wasn’t the best, he was always a safety net. Now he was gone and she didn’t know how to make this better. She was helpless.
It’s a fresh wound. Give her time. Thank God for Summer. The girls had offered to come over immediately, but Greta thought Mina probably didn’t need anyone else around. She felt like she was intruding on the little girl’s grief enough as it was, but she didn’t know what else to do. Helpless was an understatement, actually.
Mina had been crying into Bob’s pillow for almost five hours. Dehydration was a danger. She could work with that. She could fix it. If she focused on the physical symptoms, maybe she wouldn’t have to think about the broken heart underneath.
Because that was something she’d never learned to fix.
“Mina, you’re going to have to drink something, or else we’ll have to get you on an IV,” she said firmly. She didn’t want to be mean, but maybe being told what to do would be a little less scary for the kid.
After a long moment, Mina struggled to sit up and drank the cup of tea. Then she lay back down and resumed her silent vigil, staring at the photo of Bob and her mother on his bedside table.
Greta’s own tears started then. Nine was too young to be alone in the world. There never was a good time, but nine. Geez, Mina was an orphan at nine.
M slp yt? Amy would let not death nor destruction force her into spelling and grammar rules. Greta reached out to smooth the hair back from Mina’s face and saw that her swollen eyes had actually closed. A moment later, as Greta stroked her arm gently, her breathing evened out.
Yes. Thank God. You guys I am at such a loss.
Go through his shit. In fact, I’m coming over now she’s asleep. We’ll go through his shit together. Greta felt marginally better. Summer was better at … things than she was. Grownup things. Greta was ready to go cry under the covers with Mina and let someone more grownup handle the whole situation. The prospect of uncovering all of Bob’s dirty secrets was the only thing that kept her out of bed and downstairs waiting on the porch when Summer finally arrived in a cab.
“First things first. Has the rest of the family been informed?” Straight to business. It was comforting.
“I’m not actually sure. I always had the impression Bob wasn’t close to his family, he never talked about them. The police gave me his phone, it somehow just got a cracked screen, and nothing else. But I just don’t know who is who on the contact list. And I don’t know if I can be the one to break the news again. And again.” The feeling of being completely out of her depth threatened to overwhelm her again, and tears pricked yet again. She had to do this stuff for Mina, no one else was going to do it for her.
“Photo albums?” Summer asked. “We can match up names to contacts that way.”
“Yes. Yes, Mina’s showed me a couple in her room. I’ll go get them.” Just moving around with a purpose felt like something was happening. It felt better. She peeked in on Mina as she grabbed the albums—still sleeping, but as Greta watched, she let out a little moan and a few more tears slipped from beneath her closed lids. Even in slumber, she was hurting. Greta’s heart wrenched.
She had no clear answers on what would happen next. Mina couldn’t go to the state. But who would take her? Until they knew, she wasn’t going to leave her side. Not for one second.
She wasn’t going to be another person that left.
It only took a few minutes to figure out that Bob’s older sister was Janice in New York, and a few more after that to realize—well, for Summer to realize, she was the one to call—that Bob had been dead to her for some time. She didn’t even ask about Mina. There were no living grandparents. There was nothing about Mina’s mother’s side of the family.
Summer broke the lock on his filing cabinet and they started the process of looking through all his legal documents. That was a little easier said than done, as neither of them had the slightest clue about what they were even looking at half the time.
Articles of incorporation were jumbled together with birth certificates and contracts and old bills and who knew what else. It felt like everything under the sun was in there except what they really needed—a will. Something with the legal directives of what on earth Greta should be doing.
She could tell the cops were totally annoyed when she’d told them she didn’t even know what funeral home the body should go to. She had just finally yelled at them that she was just the goddamn nanny and she couldn’t make those decisions before starting to cry. They’d taken pity on her, finally, and said she could call in the morning with what she wanted to do.
With all the other things that had likely happened to Bob’s body, a night in the county morgue wasn’t going to make anything worse. She fought a wave of irrational anger at him, for dying and leaving her with this impossible mess. He couldn’t even be bothered to clean up his damn paperwork.
“Okay, the same guy’s name is on all of these contracts and stuff. I bet it’s his lawyer. Let’s call him.” Summer pulled up Bob’s contact list. “Yep, home, business, and cell listed. It’s basically 6 am at this point. I’m calling.”
Greta leaned against the wall and listened to her friend explain the situation. She felt bone-tired, not just from the all-nighter. The weight of responsibility just kept getting heavier and soon enough Mina was going to wake up to her first day without her dad and Greta still had no idea what to say to her. How to make it better. You couldn’t kiss this kind of owie away.
“Okay, he’s going to go through his paperwork and get back to us in the next day or two,” Summer reported, snapping the phone shut.
“So … what do I do for the next day or two? I don’t even know who’s supposed to plan the funeral.” Greta blew her nose. “God, I’m so pissed at him.”
“He’s on ice, girl. He’ll keep until we figure this out. And speaking of ice, you need a drink. And I’m going to make you guys some food. You just sit for a few minutes. You’ll need your energy for the little one.” Summer decamped to the kitchen.
‘Little one’ reminded her that she should probably text Jon again and give him an update. The thought of collapsing into his arms sounded better than anything else in the world right now, but this wasn’t about what she wanted. She pushed away the selfish whisper telling her to invite him over and let him shoulder some of the burden.
Mina had just lost her father, it would be cruel to get the pretend family together and show her what she was missing. At least that’s what Greta told herself.
A couple of days passed in a haze of tears, casseroles, and phone calls with Janice. There was not enough wine in the world to deal with her, it turned out. She came to every conversation as though Bob had arranged to get himself killed just to inconvenience her. Never mind that Greta felt the same way. Janice had an extremely busy schedule, evidently, all of it revolving around her four Yorkies.
After quite a bit of complaining, Janice had finally made it clear that she did not see it as her problem to deal with the funeral or the child. That was what she called Mina—the child. Greta’s heart broke a little more every time she thought about how unwanted this amazing, talented, intelligent little girl was. No parent could possibly hope for more. If she was Mina’s mom …
The thought had come in unbidden more than once. She had no idea how it would work, but maybe she could adopt the little girl. The idea was still germinating, though, so she hadn’t run it past the girls yet. Or Jon. He kept asking to come over, and she kept putting him off. It was weird how hard that was to do. That morning, she’d caught a whiff of something that reminded her of his leather-and-sea scent and she almost moaned out loud at missing him.
But this was her problem, not his.
The doorbell rang. There was no noise from Bob’s room, where Mina had basically moved in. No surprise there. She was no longer catatonic, but the only words she’d spoken were to ask for more tea and to politely refuse all but the barest minimum of food.
Meanwhile, Greta was stress-eating everything in sight.
“You must be the lawyer,” she said to the tall man in the suit standing on the porch, holding out her hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“I wouldn’t say that quite yet, young lady. May I?” He walked in and started spreading out folders on the kitchen counter. “I’m afraid I have quite a bit of bad news here for you.”
“Well it can’t get worse than dying, can it?” She wasn’t sure if she was making a joke or stating a fact. The lawyer made a noncommittal hum. Oh, shit.
“The long and short of it is, Bob’s company went under almost a year ago, and his savings are entirely depleted.” He tapped a few papers with the end of his pen. Greta’s jaw dropped.
“But—no, it didn’t. He went to work all the time! He had meetings! He didn’t go to his daughter’s piano recital because he had a business trip!” This couldn’t be true. Even Bob couldn’t be that guy.
“I’m afraid it did. He’d been working very hard to land a big new client,” here he tapped another set of papers, “And borrowed a significant amount of money to woo them. We’d both hoped this would work out before any of his living circumstances would have to change. I am sorry Bob didn’t confide in you, although as his employee I can see why he didn’t.”
“I can’t believe this. I need to sit down. When you say savings depleted, you mean…?” Greta’s hand was over her mouth. She thought she might actually throw up. So many things were coming together—how he could never seem to pay her on time or her full salary, or why he’d stopped wearing a tie to “work”.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this—” Oh God that was exactly what the cop said before he broke Mina’s world apart. “But there is nothing here. The house was double-mortgaged already, and the past several payments weren’t even made in partial. I spoke to the bank just before arriving. You really probably should sit down.”
She obeyed numbly.
“There isn’t a gentle way to say this. You aren’t the next of kin. You aren’t on the deed. The bank is going to be repossessing this house within the week. I’m so sorry.” He did look genuinely sorry, but that was no comfort at all.
“But I’m the primary caregiver for his next of kin! She’s only nine years old! They’d just kick her out?” It just didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.
“I’m sorry. Even if you were a relative, without your name on the deed, everything would go into probate regardless. Unfortunately, nothing about this process is smooth. You should start packing as soon as possible.”
Greta leaned across him and threw up into the sink.
* * *
The house was quiet except for the muffled sounds of sobbing. Amy’s sobbing, not Mina’s or Greta’s.
Summer poured more wine from the box. This was no time for mere bottles. If she’d had access to a cask, she’d likely have brought that instead. Greta had divined that when Summer had said, “I wish I’d had a cask.” That was as intuitive as she was right now.
How on earth had she not seen Bob’s figurative crash and burn happening?
“I was always looking at the symptoms and not the cause,” she said.
“Looks like you just didn’t know him as well as you thought you did,” said Summer.
Amy had assured her over and over that there was nothing she could have seen, and if so, nothing she could have done anyways, but Greta wasn’t inclined to believe either of them. She should have known. She could have helped, somehow. Done something. Anything.
He’d been off since he’d stopped paying her on time. She just hadn’t wanted to delve any deeper, too wrapped up in living her own life which wasn’t even her own life: too wrapped up in stagnation. In her cocoon. And now it had burst from around her too soon, her wings too wet to fly.
And Mina? Mina was too much of a baby to even consider a caterpillar. She could no longer remember a time when her tummy didn’t feel like a rock tumbler, but more pebbles appeared every time her ward asked what was next.
And ward was officially the term now. It had started as a joke, like how Robin was technically Batman’s ward, but mostly a sidekick. In the good old days, the so-recent days, Mina really was. Painting together, watching shows together, freaking dating together. Instead of cookie-baking extravaganzas, now there was just Greta heating up soup and pleading with Mina to swallow just a sip, just enough to make up the calories it took to cry. Robin was an orphan too, she remembered now.
Although technically, so was Batman, so at least he knew what the hell he was doing.
“For someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’ve held everyone together pretty effing well,” Summer observed.
Amy cried.
“It wasn’t your dad, Amy,” Summer reminded her for the third or fourth time, to less avail than before.
“She’s sensitive,” Greta said, somewhat doubtfully. “But I’m sure as hell glad Mina isn’t awake to see this hot mess.”
“Do you think she’s just projecting a little since she did get made redundant at work?” Summer asked.
“Makes sense, I kind of want to sob for a similar reason. If you pinch really hard right between your first finger and thumb, they dry up. Learned that little trick when I was a kid.” More tears might relieve a little of the hot, dry pressure on the backs of her eyelids, though. After all, she and Amy were both homeless jobless wretches now.
Guilt immediately set in at the thought. Greta might not have any idea what she was going to do, but she wasn’t the delicate flower Amy was. Commercials about animal abuse would have her concerned, and considering writing a check. For Amy they were tantamount to miniature holocausts, every viewing resulting in fresh waves of hysteria, phone calls, internet research, and in one memorable case, late-night ninja freedom work.
That had been her first arrest, and Amy was still very proud of it.
No, Greta was already on better footing, because she wasn’t losing it, and she had no criminal record to screw up any sort of future lease.
How did you get a new lease with no income and a kid that wasn’t yours?
“Can I live with you, Summer?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Well, that was abrupt.
“The Frenchie?” Greta confirmed it was his room-confining things and not any sort of character flaw of her own which had caused the negative.
“Yep.”
She nodded, feeling better but not actually better.
“Can we live in your office, Amy?” This was bottom of the barrel, but what else was there? A women’s shelter, she supposed. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the idea, but Ang was in social work, and she had repeatedly assured her sisters that death was probably preferable to a lot of the city’s shelters.
For such a progressive place to live, there was always more work to be done.
“You may,” Amy sniffed out. “But it’s a bring your own sleeping bag situation. Also I think the building is haunted. Also there’s no shower. I brought a pretty big bucket though, so we can all take turns standing in it and pouring water over.” Oddly, this seemed to cheer her. “It’ll be like Little House on the Prairie. The biggest will go first. Oldest, I mean. Me. You guys can bathe in the rest of the water.”
“Sweet Jesus, Amy, you guys are moving in with me, I guess. I cannot allow this,” Summer said, eyes wide. “All of you. I have running water. Electricity even, for those who don’t prefer an Amish lifestyle. We can just … squeeze.”
“Bless you,” Greta collapsed into Summer’s thankfully strong arms. Amy’s office was starting to sound less civilized than a tent in the redwoods would have been. Now that she’d thought of it, though, that wasn’t the world’s worst backup plan. They could study nature, live like nature intended, just worrying about nothing but their next meal.
That would probably mean foraging and hunting though. Never mind. Fuck that.
But now that Summer had offered, they could all just crowd in there. Live like a weird little family, under one twelve-by-twelve roof. Amy could keep on volunteering, and Greta could check online for other babysitting jobs while Mina was in school.
They could make it work. Through the sheer force of her will, she’d make it work.
“Birds?” came a tentative voice, accompanied by the front door’s signature squeak.
“Jon?” Greta didn’t know it was possible for her heart to leap so high while still remaining contained within the safety of her ribcage. “Jon!”
He held his arms out straight, holding a wine bottle in each, while she grabbed him as though her life depended on it. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed him, his warmth, his strength, his goddamn smell. Nothing was as good as this. Not even Summer’s veggie lasagna, and that was amazing.
“I missed you I missed you I missed you,” she muttered into his chest, crab-walking along him as he divested himself of the bottles and grabbed her close at last.
“I missed you too,” he said into her hair, kissing the top of her head in the same way she’d kissed Mina’s a thousand times, comforting her the same way she’d tried with Mina. If Mina felt even an ounce of this relief from her own lips, she’d kiss the poor girl a thousand times more, a million even. Because right now, there was no over-estimating the relaxation of every muscle in her back, her neck, every thought in her head.
She should have asked him over sooner. She should have but she didn’t, because she was a good surrogate mom. It was just the right thing, to keep him away.
Now that he was here, though, she did feel lighter. Selfish or not, it was nicer to wallow in a pond other feet were in.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, meaning every unworthy word. Every moment she’d sat by Mina, she’d wished he was beside her. It was for Mina’s good she hadn’t just picked up the phone. Right? Not because admitting to herself that she was becoming dependent on him would have forced her to have a long think she didn’t have time for.
Being near him now, breathing in his scent, she realized she wanted him with a fierceness that shocked her.
And scared her.
Greta was not in a headspace to deal with him, to think about her emotions. Grief and anger and confusion and fear were a potent enough cocktail without adding him to the mix. And he had to know the way he affected her. It was so obvious. Just look at the way he’d walked in the house and immediately reduced her to a clingy mess. Of course he hadn’t called first. He just showed up, knowing she’d never refuse him to his face. Using their chemistry to get his way. It was downright manipulative.
“Why are you here, anyways?” She didn’t mean it to come out as combative as it did, but then she also hadn’t expected him, welcome as he was, to show up unbid in the midst of the mourning taking place in this newly bereaved home. He blinked a couple times, clearly not expecting this sort of turnaround. Greta felt a twinge of guilt but squelched it, because this was her problem and her place and her ward and he should have waited for her to give the all-clear.
“Amy texted me, then, didn’t she?” he replied, as though it should have been so obvious but it wasn’t, and suddenly there was a flutter in Greta’s chest. It wasn’t affection, this time, it was anger.
“This isn’t Amy’s problem! That wasn’t fair!” she cried, hearing the silly frustration in her own voice. Her fists clenched and released, clenched again.
“I can leave…” he said, Amy that bitch of a traitor and Summer another one, both stumbling over themselves to stop him. All the warmth he’d brought to her chilled when she thought about how he’d insinuated himself into her life via her friends. He was just like a teddy bear they’d pulled out for her. But worse, because he’d asked them to put him in when she hadn’t wanted him, hadn’t wanted anyone at all.
Amy and Summer were staring at her strangely. But of course, why wouldn’t her friends call her boyfriend? Why wouldn’t she want him there? The futility of the entire setup was suddenly overwhelming.
She’d been happy before him. Why didn’t anyone see that but her? She had been happy alone. She and Mina against the world. It had become a mantra as of late, she’d found herself repeating it at odd intervals. Again, now, they were against the world.
She just needed a plan. Everything would be better if she just had a plan. Something to tell Mina. She relaxed her fists and counted to ten. It was fine. It was okay.
“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about upsetting Mina, is all. And the news about the house is a blow. I’m sorry I yelled.” She gave a half-hearted smile to everyone, her eyes lingering on Jon’s bright green ones. They were filled with compassion, and she felt more conflicted than ever.
“Okay, well, I’ll call about a storage unit tomorrow, and you and Mina can take the flip-couch. Amy—I’m sorry but you seem best equipped to handle extenuating circumstances so I’m going to let you go ahead and sleeping-bag it up wherever you can find room.” Summer looked extremely pained, but after Amy’s offer in the office, Greta understood why she’d jumped in.
Smashing three besties and kid into a single room was still probably preferable to letting everyone you cared about smash themselves into a squat. God love Summer. Her own room was about to turn into a shelter.
“You’re all moving into Summer’s?” Jon looked confused. “But … why?”
“Because we’re all homeless,” Amy sniffed. “So we’re going to move into Summer’s studio and live the tenement life.”
“You’re all moving into a studio apartment?” He sounded horrified. “But … how?”
“I have no clue, Jon. Everyone has stuff and there’s not even enough room for a cat in there. We’ll work it out. We’ll get storage units, and new jobs, and get really good at ignoring each other, I suppose.” Summer clearly already regretted her offer, but it was too late to take back.
“But … why wouldn’t you just come live with me?” He asked, staring at Greta with a look of confusion on his face. “I’ve two bedrooms, the second is just my studio. There’s more than enough room for Mina to stay in there. It makes a lot more sense than piling in like sardines at poor Summer’s.”
There was a note of hurt in his voice that she wouldn’t have asked him. Of course she wouldn’t have asked him. It would have been crossing an imaginary Rubicon, admitting she needed him.
But now that the offer was on the table …
“Summer, I’m afraid I must decline your offer. You see, Mina and I are moving in with Jon.”
Summer couldn’t hide her look of relief.
“That really does make more sense. Okay. I accept your declination.” She turned to Amy with a hopeful glance.
“Oh, I’m still moving in,” Amy assured her.
“Can’t win ‘em all,” Summer muttered.
“I’m going to go tell Mina. Save me that bottle of Pinot,” Greta said, and mounted the stairs to break yet another piece of life-changing news to Mina.
She found herself more surprised than ever to discover that Mina’s tears at the news were of happiness. “If I can’t be home, I’ll be with you guys. That’s okay, Greta.”
How come every single time Greta thought she knew what was going on, she discovered she was wrong all over again?