“I guess, yeah. At the time, it felt like the last straw. I told her I never wanted to see her again. We made up some, later, enough for her to visit me.” And take my money. “But I never came home. I thought more would’ve changed.”
“My mom still has all the old furnishings from when I was a kid. Hell, when I pulled my childhood bed out of my room to put in a king-sized, Mom acted like the old bed was some sacred relic. And she still makes breakfast sausages in the same pan she used when I was too short to see the top of the stove.”
My mom had only cooked breakfasts on Sundays, but yeah, I’d almost forgotten, sitting on my chair while Mom slid a pancake and bacon onto my plate.That’s one good memory, anyhow.“I’m really glad you’re here,” I told him.
“Happy if it helps.”
“You have no idea.” Although I shouldn’t read too much into his presence. When Mr. Rogers said,“Look for the helpers,”he could’ve pointed to Lee’s picture in a dictionary.
Lee turned away and scanned the stacked furnishings. “Not seeing anything obvious. Was the urn put in here first or after everything else?”
“Shit. Probably first.” I’d paid a neighbor of Mom’s to sign for delivery from the funeral home and put the urn in the unit. “I bet it’s in a back corner, behind all this stuff. Shit.” I rubbed my eyes, then squinted and rubbed again as the right one stung.
Lee grabbed my wrist. “Stop. You’re getting all that dust in your eye.”
“Fuck.” At least I had an excuse for the water on my cheeks.
“Here, let me.” Lee pulled a packaged wipe out of a back pocket and ripped it open. He put a hand under my chin. “Hold still.” Carefully, he swiped the damp wipe around my eyelids, then took my hand and cleaned my fingers. “Better? I have eye drops in the kit in my car if you need them.”
“Of course you do.” I managed a shaky laugh. “I remember when you kept a packet of lube in that back pocket.”
“Ah, the good old days.” He chuckled and put the dirty wipe back in the foil. “I barely recall.”
I tried to catch his gaze, despite the watering of my eye. “I do.”
For a moment we stood there, a couple of feet apart. Close enough to touch. I saw his pupils dilate. His hand under my chin could’ve become a touch on my face. We could’ve leaned forward till our mouths met.
It has to be Lee’s choice.
For several breaths, I hoped, but then he took a step back and tucked the open packet away. “I figure you have two choices here. We can work through the stuff carefully, bit by bit, figure out what you want to do with each item till we get to the back. Or you can haul it all out fast and find that urn.”
“Third option,” I suggested. “I can call a charity and give all that stuff to them. Ask them to find and keep the urn for me and make good use of the rest as long as they haul it away.”
“Don’t you want any keepsakes?”
Do I?“No, not really. Anything here is something I’ve lived without for the last twenty years. I’ve moved a lot, kept my belongings lean, and I don’t need to load myself down now.”
“Travelling light so you can get the hell out of Dodge when you’ve done your time?” Lee watched me closely, like my answer mattered.
“Even if I were to live right here in Iowa forever,” I told him. “Anything in this unit will just make me think of Mom and our fights. That’s a habit I managed to break in the last twenty years.”
“Ah. Okay, fair.” He seemed to relax.
“Is there anything in here you think Wellhaven could use?”
“Maybe, but worth digging around in your old memories? Nah.” He stepped back and I reached high for the cord to pull the unit door downward.
The heavy metal shutter rolled along its tracks and hit the floor with a muffled thud, hiding the detritus of my mother’s life from view. I felt better already as I locked the door.
Lee said, “I can hook you up with a company that will sort through her things for a low fee, box up photos and personal letters, and deal with the rest. They sell off the valuable stuff, which is how they make their real money, then send the rest to the appropriate charities with a donation slip for you and get rid of the trash.”
“That’s a thing? Really?” Handing Mom’s stuff off to someone else would be such a weight off my mind.
“Yeah. We get a lot of people whose relatives need care and they suddenly have a house full of stuff to deal with and no time. Phoebe, the resident coordinator, has all kinds of resources. We can get those for you on Monday.”
“You’re awesome!”
He pretended to buff his nails on his shirt and blew on them. “You noticed.”
