Chapter 22
Oliver
When I woke up alone in the unfamiliar cabana bed, my arms were empty, and my heart was full. A second later, my heart caught up with the emptiness and missed the woman who had become a physical necessity, the woman I had to restrain myself last night from taking more of.
She did the right thing to leave while I was asleep, because if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have let her go. And that wasn’t in her best interest.
Just as an instinct had brought me here twice, the same one now told me to run, to let her go, for her sake. But not yet.
Years ago, she had come back to check in on me and make sure I was okay, and we had shaken hands and said goodbye. Our tables had turned, and it was now my turn to make sure she was okay first, then shake her hand and leave.
So, I had to stay a little longer to make sure she was okay.
She was taking care of everyone, and maybe by that, filling a void in herself, curing her own need for someone to take care of her. But no one did.
I had seen the desperation, pain, frustration, need, hate, love that had raged inside her, that needed a shore to crash upon. I had let my body, my arms, my chest be that shore.
I would do it for eternity, I would be her shore, for as long as she’d need it or want it …
If I wasn’t afraid I would drown her.
I loved her too much to risk that.
Chapter 23
January
Walking down Ocean Avenue, toward the promenade that gave the town its name, I passed by Sarah’s pharmacy, outside of which I had stumbled upon Oliver years ago. My sister’s shop was on the other side of the street.
Continuing, I passed by Breading Dreams and Books & More, places that reminded me that Iwashome, even if I didn’t have a mailing address yet.
Not too far behind were the condo buildings that, in the eighties, had served as little hotels and later turned into cheaper apartments, the kind my mother had rented and that I had lived in with my children.
Tammy’s house was on the other side of town, where the newer constructed houses were built during the town’s expansion several years back. I still treated Tammy as the little sister who needed me to shelter her from ugly realities and truths, though she ran her life beautifully with her husband and three children, and a job and errands, and everything that a normal family had.
By the time I arrived, everyone in Sandy Hills already knew about Vi.
“Hey, I tried calling you. Are you okay?” Sylvie came out of her office when I appeared at the door on my way from reception.
“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t respond.”
“I figured you needed a moment.”
“Yes.” I thought about what that moment included last night. “I want to organize her funeral. We need to talk budget. I know she put money aside for it.”
“She did. I have everything here,” Sylvie said, inviting me into her office. “She left this for you.”
I opened the sealed envelope addressed to me that my manager handed me over the desk.
January Raine, my sunshine, I hereby am telling you what to do once I’m gone. No eulogy. Do you hear me, January? Just play Ruby Tuesday, make them sit through it as this song and I deserve, then burn me, and serve them cake to celebrate me at Sandy Hills. Short and to the point. I hated the long-ass funerals that praised the dead, although they were less than worthy, that I’d been to. I swore mine would be different, and I order you to respect that, or I’ll haunt you, and not in a good way.
I laughed and cried as I read the hand-written letter. I could practically hear Vi while reading it, including the P.S. that read:
When all is done, call this number. It’s a distant relative I don’t care about, but you can tell him I died. Just do it after my funeral. I don’t want him there.
After discussing everything, Sylvie let me use her office to make the phone calls to arrange the funeral. Vi had ensured to keep me busy so I wouldn’t wallow.
When I finally reached the common room, I went straight to Sue. Everyone said, “Sorry about Vi,” but Sue seemed to feel it the most.
