Wine bottle open and now half empty, I stood motionless in the kitchen. The timeless clunk of the hands fixed to the clock above the fridge told me that I hadn’t moved for several minutes. My eyes were glued to a small chip on the island bench as my mind spun a series of memories in which mum cooked and cleaned in that very spot. I could almost smell her smoked rose perfume wafting through the room as if she had only passed by just moments prior. The thought was interrupted when the chime of the doorbell rang throughout the house. Upon opening the door, I found Elizabeth Porter standing there with a bouquet of hydrangeas in her hands. Two years below me at school, I knew Liz because I had briefly dated her brother back when I was sixteen. Short and pale, with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, she was nothing like her older brother who, at the time, had been tall, dark and handsome. Stunned into silence at her arrival, Liz spoke first.
Hi there, I have a delivery for the Ellis family.
She stepped forward hesitantly with the bouquet, so I reached out to take the flowers, saying thank you in the process. She wore an apron with ‘Porter Floristry’ printed on it, so it seemed obvious that someone had placed an order with her shop. As I moved to close the door, Liz quickly said: I’m sorry to hear about your mum. Those blue eyes of hers filled with genuine sympathy and she shuffled awkwardly from one foot to another. I smiled and replied: Thanks Liz, I appreciate it.
Shocked by the fact that I remembered her name, she returned the smile before I inclined my head and closed the door. With the hydrangeas placed on the dining table opposite the kitchen, I pulled a card from the flowers and read:
Grace and Marlene,
Our sincere condolences at the loss of your loving mother Anne.
Warmest regards,
Frances Family
Not surprised by the workings of a small town, I assumed that something as quick as a flower delivery would occur within hours and it did. Before I had the chance to place the card down, the faint rattling of keys in the front door caught my attention.
Grace walked into the kitchen, still wearing the same black trousers and coat from this morning. However, this time she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses, leaving me to absorb the dullness that swam through her eyes. Eyes that were usually a mesmerising green were now red-rimmed and hidden behind noticeable bags. A result from a night of no sleep. She threw her keys down on the bench as she walked past me, grabbing the home phone from the counter and propping herself onto the sofa in the living room.
Who are the flowers from? she asked.
Knowing who they were from and remembering my conversation with Sophia this morning, I asked: Since when are you and Sophia friends?
Glancing over her shoulder towards where I stood, Grace shrugged.
Since she helped me find a place of my own.
The card from Sophia’s family was now back on the table and I was walking over to the living room, wine glass in hand, when she continued: I take it they’re from her? Her head tilted towards the flowers.
Yep, was all I dared to reply.
I sat down across from Grace and saw a ghost of who she used to be. Confident, incredibly intelligent and fiercely dedicated, she was now reduced to a vacant body as her mind wondered elsewhere.
Nodding towards my glass of wine, I asked, did you want something to drink?
Grace snapped out of her trance. Her hollow eyes locked in on my face as her mind replayed the question.
Do I want a fucking drink? she spat. Like a snake pulling back before it sprung, the venom in her next words hit home. How dare you sit here like this is your home? She veered towards the edge of her seat as she continued: How dare you act like nothing happened? Like you didn’t just pack up and leave mum and I alone? I opened my mouth to speak but Grace interrupted. You weren’t there! Her voice cracked at the end, letting out a painful sob. Tears streamed down her face and I let her continue to speak. In case you didn’t realise Marle, it was her birthday yesterday. Placing her head into her hands, Grace wept and her shoulders shook in uncontrollable shudders.
All life drained from my face as I became aware that I missed mum’s birthday.
I am so sorry, I whispered, acutely aware of the huge mistake I had made by forgetting. A mistake I would, regrettably, have to live with. Grace looked up from her hands and shook her head.
No, you don’t get to apologise, she said, taking another deep breath. You will never understand what it was like to see her fall down. To be the one who had to do compressions on her own mother’s dying body as everyone around me screamed. Tears rolled down her eyes. She made no effort to wipe them away as her hands gripped the sofa’s edge helplessly. You weren’t the one who rushed to the hospital after the ambulance, only to find the paramedics waiting at the entrance. Waiting to tell you that they lost her. You weren’t the one who had to remove the jewellery from her fingers, her neck. Grace eventually wiped her eyes. I did! she yelled. I was the one who sat there, in the hospital, all day yesterday. Crying next to her dead body. That was me, she said. Gulping for air, only me.
I could feel the tears slide down my face. I stood sombrely and walked over to her. Like the first sip of tea, I cautiously sat down beside her before I wrapped my arms around her and cried. Cried for our mum who had passed. Cried for the guilt I felt over my absence. Cried because, despite running away, I loved my family deeply and I felt the hurt that Grace was expressing just as deeply in my own chest.
Whilst we sat there curled up and crying together, I realised that my absence had been selfish. I was young and self-centred, not thinking to care about how my actions would impact others. I knew that I would never be able to take away the pain that I caused my mum. But leaning against my sister, I realised that I could try to do so with her. I knew that she may never forgive me for leaving and ignoring our mum. However, I knew that I had to start with, at least, the smaller things first and see where it might lead.
Her head rested against my shoulder.
I’m sorry for pushing you into the glass shower screen, I said.
Her quick and shallow breaths came to a halt and she slowly raised her head to look at me. She sat there in silence, staring at me for two seconds before she laughed with exhaustion.
Yeah, I forgive you, she replied and a smile slowly appeared in the corners of her mouth. She sat up higher and wiped the leftover tears from her eyes.
Just like that? I asked.
Well, she replied, if my memory serves me correctly, mum gave you a massive hiding and banned you from watching TV for a week. So yeah, we’re even.
Falling back into the sofa, I laughed at the memory once again until Grace started dialling on the home phone.
What are you doing? I asked.
The phone balanced between her shoulder and cheek, Grace replied: I spoke to Father George this morning after I dropped you home. We set an appointment for tomorrow to discuss the funeral. She paused before she looked over at me and added, I would appreciate it if you came with me.
Nodding my agreement, I watched her in awe and marvelled at how Grace was still able to pick herself up and keep going even in face of so much grief and anguish. My thoughts were interrupted as Grace spoke through the phone.
Hi David? Yes, thank you, I appreciate it. Well, today would suit us better. Yes, perfect ,we’ll see you shortly. You, too. Thank you.
I waited for Grace to end the call before I asked: David? As in David Longmire?
The one and only, she replied.
Confused, I questioned her further.
Since when does he run the funeral home?
Grace rolled her eyes at my ignorance because, had I returned home or called every once in a while, I would have known the answer.
Since his uncle Matt passed away and left the business to him, Grace supplied.
My brows pulled down as I tried to remember David’s uncle Matt, but my attempt was stopped short when Grace slapped me on the knee and said: It doesn’t matter because we’re heading there now. Grace fished through her pockets and pulled out her car keys. I was walking behind her when my stomach rumbled in protest. Grace stopped to look at me and asked: Have you eaten anything today?
Um, no, because you stormed inside before I had the chance, I answered hesitantly.
Unimpressed, Grace turned back around and kept walking to the car.
Right, well, we can grab something on the way home.