I’m camped in Papa’s room, holding the crystal. Now that the balance has shifted back to a more normal equilibrium and Mom’s etchings aren’t in this room, it feels more magical than it has since before Papa died. If Jasmine is going to show me something, I figure it will happen here.
But nothing does.
My body is starting to adapt to the stiffness of Papa’s floorboards when Mom walks in and says, “Come on. Let’s go outside.”
There’s a cool breeze, but I wrap Papa’s tapestry around my shoulders and kneel beside her. She says a prayer in Tagalog, and we sit with him while the sky grows dark. “I took his space for granted,” she says, “but in my mind, I talked with my father every day. Especially on the hard ones.” She turns to me. “Just because you don’t feel her spirit, doesn’t mean she’s not in heaven listening.”
Mom’s right. And maybe Jasmine intended for it to be this way. Maybe she didn’t want me to find her space because she knew I’d be consumed with the energy and never let go. I close my eyes and talk to her. I want to say nice things, but I tell her how pissed I am. I tell her she should’ve never come looking for me. I needed space, but not this much space. Not forever. I tell her she ruined us. I tell her she left me. I tell her I’ll never forgive her. I shudder from the pain. I sob. And then … then I tell her I love her, it’ll be always, and her love, the way she loved, was enough for me. That I’m so sorry for leaving her feeling like it wasn’t.
Memories of her and me move through my mind, spread through me and fill me up, and when I open my wet eyes, Mom’s still right beside me. She stands, and I follow. She wraps her arm around me, points out a few stars in the sky, then leads me inside.
Mom brings down blankets and pillows from the bedrooms because I told her I didn’t want to sleep upstairs. She sits with me on the big couch. I watch her when she’s deep into Valentine (probably trying to figure out why I find it any good, and not flinching at the parts I find terrifying). She’s really here, laughing freely during chase scenes, smiling and rolling her eyes, reaching out to squeeze my hand when I don’t speak for a while. Midsqueeze, a knock comes at the door, but she doesn’t let go to answer it. She laces our fingers, fills me with so much warmth I feel my tears form.
But when the knock comes a second time, she leaves me sitting here wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie and wondering if there’s a chance Auntie’s at the door.
But instead, Inez yells, “Surprise, bitch,” and she and Nat launch themselves at me.
They splay me out on the couch. Give me too many sloppy kisses.
We are a meld of hair and limbs and warm bodies.
I groan under the weight of them. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mom called.” Inez lays her head against my outstretched arm. “Let us love you.”
My heart stings; my eyes sting too. “It’s going to be so hard to let her go,” I say.
Inez touches the crystal as it dangles on my neck. “We know.”
“But you’re not alone,” Natalie says, cupping my cheeks with her hands.
I nod, and then I cry. They cry too. We press our faces together. We talk. We laugh. I peek out from under Natalie’s arm to see Mom heading up the stairs with a cup of tea. She turns when she feels my gaze. Thank you, I mouth. She smiles, and then she goes.
We spend the night watching slasher flicks. Scream 2 ends as the birds start to chirp outside the window, with my birds following from the kitchen. It’s been a good night. So good I suddenly feel guilty Jas is not here. She’ll never be here to share one of these nights with us again. But I think she’d want us to be happy. She’d want me to be happy. I tell my friends we should do the water ritual, and Nat heads to the kitchen for a bowl of water.
When we settle, I hold the bowl in my hands first and look inside. “Nat, I see you as an extremely successful photographer, but not too bougie for your friends. Jas will be proud to see it.” I pause while she cries. “And you’ll have too much great sex and go skydiving and snorkeling.”
She shoves me and takes the bowl while we’re all laughing. She looks into the water. “Inez, you’ll find some damn joy that’s yours to keep, which might mean finding a new church too.” Inez smiles and nods. “And you’ll give me back the sweater you borrowed last year.”
“Shut up. It’s my favorite sweater,” Inez says, snatching the bowl so some water spills over the side. “Miliani, I see you discovering new species and even new magic. I see you beaming with light. Happiness all over you. Healing and free with us right at your side.”
I choke on my cries. They both reach out to hold me. We listen to Petey and Octavia’s sweet songs.
I wipe my tears and pick up the bowl again.
“And Jasmine,” I say. “Our dearest Jas. I see you at peace, energy glowing and wild, wherever you are. Maybe taking peeks at us to make sure we’re living a little recklessly.” I inhale, exhale deep, try not to tremble. “When you do, you’ll feel how much we all love you, and you’ll know we will be thinking of you every single day, until we meet in the afterlife.”
“We’ll miss you,” Natalie adds. “So, so much.”
“Always,” Inez says.
I twirl the water with a finger. For a moment, my entire body vibrates with feeling.