“Um, get rid of all these people?” I pleaded, looking around the room at the sea of unfamiliar faces. My nan had been popular in town. With her big personality and quick wit, it was no surprise so many people wanted to pay their respects. But it was Riley’s bedtime and if I was being honest, mine too.
She stood up with a nod that, through seeing her in her element at the hospital, I knew meant business. “Done.”
True to her word, people almost immediately began filtering out, some coming to share their condolences one more time. I tried to force some semblance of being put together, to remember names or, hell, at least a face or two but it was all just an endless wave of numbness.
Finally, when the house was blissfully empty, I curled up next to my girl.
“Time to turn it off, baby,” I told her quietly, pulling the iPad from her lap.
She looked up as though surprised to find an empty house. The way she could zone out so completely was mildly terrifying and why I limited her screen time, but on a day like today, I was grateful she could. “Everyone is gone?”
“Yeah, honey. Time for bed. Let’s get you changed.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “We’re staying here?”
Maybe forever.I kept that thought to myself as I pulled her into my arms, intent on carrying her up the stairs.
“But Nan’s not here,” she confirmed.
“That’s right, baby,” I replied around the lump in my throat.
“Because she’s dead?” she asked. At five, Riley didn’t understand how to sidestep a question or to frame it gently; it was refreshing most of the time. But now, when I was exhausted down to my bones, her blunt question made my eyes prick with tears. “Yeah, baby, Nan’s in heaven,” I reminded her.
The idea of death wasn’t something we’d talked about before, and she was clearly still trying to understand what it meant.
Hell, weren’t we all?
“Right.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Will I see her in the morning?”
I cleared my throat, trying not to show my emotion. “No, honey. Let’s brush your teeth.”
Thankfully, she was too tired to keep asking questions as I got her ready for bed, tucking her into the guest room Nan had decorated just for her.
“Oscar!” Riley squealed when Nan’s albino cat appeared from under the bed. The cat was deaf, had been since birth, and not a fan of crowds or people in general. He’d disappeared when the first guests had begun to arrive that afternoon.
Not that I blamed him.
He jumped on the bed, his purr like a small motor as he curled up next to Riley. She seemed to be the only exception he made to his whole anti-person stance.
“Night, baby,” I whispered as her eyelids drooped. It had been a long, confusing day.
“Night, Mama.”
My heart soared every time she called me that, and I wondered if it always would.
I left her door cracked and wandered down to my nan’s room. Perhaps it should have felt strange, but I found it comforting to curl up on her bed. It smelled like Noxzema and lavender soap, like Nan.
With her smell all around me and my little girl sleeping contentedly down the hall, I drifted into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 2
LAYLA
The house, it’s yours.
The lawyer’s words woke me from a restless sleep. Now, as I roamed the house in what had become a nightly routine, the moonlight shining its muted beam through the living room, I wondered if I’d ever sleep soundly again. This house, though my nan had lived here for years and I’d visited on occasion, was still new to me, as were all of the creaks and moans it made when the rest of the world was quiet.
And it was quiet.