“Aw.” My lips slide into a knowing angle. “I get it. You’re trying to brainwash my daughter.”
“There’s no brainwashing. It’s a perfectly legitimate clothing option that also happens to level-up her coolness points.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes that’s oddly alluring. I try toavoid direct eye contact as he goes on, “Now she has something to wear to the games when you guys come cheer for me.”
“I love my new hockey shirt.” Bella beams at me. “Jackson said I can wear it to his game tomorrow.” It isn’t lost on me that Bella’s smile is the widest I’ve seen in a long time. It might be skipping school, or maybe the excess candy, but whatever it is, it fills my heart. Today has been stressful enough, I’m just relieved she’s not stressed anymore.
I return my gaze to Jackson as a warm feeling seeps into my gut. On any other day, I would never trust my kid with a near stranger, but it worked out well. Oddly, he did a nice job with the kids. “Uh, we’ve never been to a hockey game.”
“You should try it sometime. One of our biggest games of the year is tomorrow night. Game starts at seven.” He meets my eyes with a new look. The worry line that sat above his brow all morning has faded. I like this expression. It makes me believe he’s genuinely serious about the invitation.
“We’ll see.” I shift my weight from one leg to the other and check the time on my phone. “I suppose we’d better get moving. I want to look at the purses, and then we must get to the funeral by three.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about the funeral.” His playful smile disintegrates into a serious line. “Was it someone close to you?”
“No, I actually don’t know them at all.” I lift one shoulder into a confused shrug, because I always feel weird confessing this next part. “I’m a funeral singer.”
“A funeral singer?” His eyes double blink. “I’ve heard of wedding singers but never a funeral singer. Isn’t that depressing?”
“Not really. I feel useful. I used to sing at weddings, but those are always on weekends. I either have Bella on the weekend and refuse to miss my time with her, or I’m scheduled at my waitress job. Funerals are an odd side hustle, but they’re insanely flexible,and bring in extra cash. I can book when it works for me during the week. Usually Bella’s in school, so I can attend the service for an hour and there is no extra time commitment.” My gaze turns to the kids near the candy machines. They are turning the knobs to see if more candy comes out. Sure, it’s sort of like stealing, but what adult doesn’t have that childhood memory? “I’m not sure how it’s going to go with two kids with mustaches in tow, but I owe you one.”
“No, problem. I owe you. I could never bring Rigsby to my press conference. Speaking of which, I need to run or I’m going to be late.” Jackson pivots, waves goodbye to Rigsby, and moves toward the door while calling back, “I’ll text you as soon as I’m done.”
“Thanks again for the mustaches.” I smirk at him until he turns the corner then I step between the kids to reestablish control. “Alright kids. I hear you got into a mess at the art place. Consider that your one chance for the day. We are going to a funeral and it’s in a church. I need you to be on your very best behavior. No running, no talking—just sit in the very back of the room until I get you.”
The dual set of innocent eyes flashing perfect gazes at me doesn’t fool me for a second. It’s a little bit horrifying as I consider all the ways they can get into trouble, but I don’t have another option. I point to the back aisle. “Before we go, I need a new purse. Just something cheap that has a working zipper.”
The kids stumble forward, like they forgot how to work their feet, and I walk slowly in front of them so they don’t get lost. In the middle of the center aisle is a table with clearance perfume boxes. A soft peach box catches my eye, and since the kids are moving insanely slow, I pause in front of it to wait.
Chloe.
I’d know that box anywhere.
My mother was once gifted with the bath talc. She wasn’t one of those moms who spent much time getting ready, but she used that powder. I loved walking into the bathroom after she’d shower while the musky scent lingered. It was only natural that when I was old enough to wear perfume, Chloe was one of the first ones I “borrowed” from her. I actually remember putting it on for my very first date. A shy kid from my English class who took me to a school dance. I’d never felt prettier than when I put on my mother’s signature scent.
I think it worked too, because when I opened the door to meet my date, his eyes sprang wide. Instead of saying hi, his jaw dropped and he said, “Wow.”
It’s funny how memories remain vivid. For some reason, this one is especially clear today, causing a reminiscent smile to tug at the corners of my lips. I pick up the lovely sample bottle, spritz it into the air, step into it and inhale the floral notes, hoping to relive that moment of feeling beautiful.
Something else rings in my ear.
You smell like stress and dirty dishes.
I instantly put the bottle down, my fingers actually tremble as I align the bottle back into a perfect row with the other samples.
“What are you doing, Mom?” Bella’s eyes lock on my shaking hand.
I lift my hand to scratch my ear and turn my back to the table. Hanging my head a little low and feeling silly, I say, “I was just remembering someone I used to know.”
“Who was she?” Bella’s brows furrow into a contemplative position as she stops behind me. I walk to the single rack of purses. There isn’t much to choose from, just two color choices—tan or black. I don’t need to check the price. I can tell from the plastic hardware and unbendable fake leather that they don’t cost much. I double-check the zipper, and glance at Bella. Instead of answering her question, my lips part.
It's a rarity that I think she looks like me, but from this angle, her eyes shine with so much interest, I’m flooded with a flashback to the days when I was filled with curiosity and zest for life. I used to marvel at things with awe. Now I’m in just a state of survival, I don’t even try on a purse before I grab it. Everything is always a rush.
Maybe I’m still stressed from this morning? I’m not usually this emotional but getting a rare bird’s-eye-view of my life, I’ll be honest, I hate the clarity.
How did I get to this point of life where I’m merely existing in survival mode? An overwhelming sadness floods my heart. I could tell Bella thatShewas nobody special, because I don’t want to talk about it. She’ll drop it, but that only makes this sting so much worse.
And it’s not true.
I raise my chin higher. “I was remembering how I used to be when I was younger.”
