Twenty minutes later, the paramedics have left, and I’m sitting on the couch with Jenna in my arms. She’s staring up at me with her big brown eyes. Her tears have dried. I guess I’m crying enough for both of us.
It’s hard for me to look into her eyes. If it weren’t for me, her mother would probably still be alive. I should have been smart enough to know that Lavinia was too weak to get into a tub full of water, and she smelled like she had consumed alcohol.
I thought that was what she needed, something to relax her. I never once thought it would be the end of her. All I can do now is take care of her daughter.
The little girl will grow up without a mother and with a father in prison.
When Jenna falls asleep again, I take her back to the crib and tiptoe out of the room. Outside the nursery, my back hits the wall and I let myself grieve properly for my friend.
Exhausted, I finally make it to the guest room. It’s as much of a mess as the rest of the house was before I started cleaning.
I crawl into the bed and under the covers. When I pull the comforter over my head, I wish I could sleep and never wake up, but until other arrangements can be made, I’m responsible for Jenna.
I can’t handle the pain on my own. I need to speak to someone. That person used to be Lavinia or Alex.
Unable to stop myself, I throw back the comforter and get my phone. I return to the guestroom and dial Alex’s number. He’s still my husband, and I need him so much right now.
The phone rings. It doesn’t go to voicemail, but he also doesn’t answer.
I hang up and try again. He still doesn’t pick up. When I’m finally asked to leave a message, I do.
“Alex,” I say. “Lavinia is dead.”
I hang up, expecting that as soon as he listens to the message, he’ll call back.
I lie in bed with the phone next to me, waiting. Half an hour goes by and the phone stays silent.
Instead of lying around doing nothing, I get out of bed and go to Lavinia’s room. I need to find a way to reach her mother. She would want to know that her daughter has died.
Chapter 24
Lavinia lied when she said she didn’t know where her mother was.
She kept her letters and postcards, sent from around the world, inside a shoebox on top of her closet. Most of them have not been opened. After turning her bedroom upside down, I found a letter from her mother. Even though the envelope was sealed, a return address was written on the back.
Nairobi, Kenya.
I had to open the letter to look for a contact number. I found it written at the end of the page.
When I told Carmen about the death of her daughter, she seemed upset, but not as devastated as a grieving mother should be.
Her cab just arrived. She’s here. I guess that’s the most important thing. But it’s still sad that they could not work on their relationship while Lavinia was alive.
Carmen is a spitting image of Lavinia. Even though her hair is cut in a spiky pixie style, it’s the same shade as Lavinia’s was. Lavinia also had her mother’s amber eyes. But their dressing styles are completely different. While Lavinia used to dress down, her mother goes all out in multicolored hippie clothes, large hoop earrings, and so much makeup it’s hard to tell her exact shade of skin color.
“What happened to my daughter?” she asks as soon as she reaches the doorstep.
“Please come in.” I open the door wider. This is not something I want to discuss outside with everyone watching.
I close the door and turn to her. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” She narrows her eyes. “And who are you again?”
“My name is Viola. I’m… I was Lavinia’s friend. I had just arrived to visit her when it happened.”
For the past five days, I’ve been struggling with the images of Lavinia’s lifeless body on the wet tiles and crying myself to sleep.
“I see.” In the living room, Carmen sits down on the couch and stares at me. “So, how did she die? The connection in Nairobi was too spotty for me to hear everything you said.”
