I twist again to back out of his driveway, and I notice not only has he made sure I have my suitcase but also my toiletries bag, my laptop case, and my box of everyday jewelry. Pretty much all of my most important worldly possessions, except the stuff in his safe and the bus.
My stupid eyes sting at the thoughtfulness of the gesture—at the courage and selflessness he's demonstrating by releasing me rather than trying to hold on to me.
No, no, nope. Can't go there.
Not yet.
God, I'm a sissy. I can't face my shit. It's too hard.
I shake my head, turning around to face the front and putting the shifter into first; let out the clutch, set the SUV into motion.
For a while, I just drive. Get used to driving something other than the bus—that's weird. Eventually I find myself parking in Faye's driveway and then ringing her doorbell.
It takes a while but eventually she appears in the doorway—my heart sinks. She's lost a ton of weight, looking haggard and frail. Not at all the vibrant, active, vivacious old bird I'd known just a few weeks ago.
"Why, it's my girl Ember!" she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. "You came to see me!"
She opens the door and I throw myself into her arms. "Faye, I missed you. I couldn't stay away any longer. I just had to come see you."
"Well, I'm mighty glad you did, missy." She kisses my cheek and then pulls me inside. "Come on in. You want some coffee?"
"It's seven in the evening, Faye," I point out.
"So?" She waves a dismissive hand. "YOLO, bitches."
I cackle. "God, I love you. Yeah, sure, let's have coffee."
I follow her into a postage stamp foyer—a four-by-four square of tile a few inches lower than the rest of the room, with a waist-height half-wall on the right and a bi-fold coat closet on the left. The living room features a big picture window facing the street, a long, low, battered green velour couch facing the picture window. A fireplace occupies the wall between the couch and the picture window, with a wide, deep mantle across the top. The mantle is cluttered with photographs ranging from black-and-white photos of Faye and her family when she was a little girl, what I assume are Thomas and his family when he was young, Faye and Thomas as a young couple, and then graduating to faded color photographs from the early sixties and seventies, through the eighties, and into polaroids and digital photographs leading up to the present day—including a printed and framed photo I took on my phone of Faye and me at the beach together. I'd emailed it to Faye upon her request when I took her home that day. In it, we're sitting on the blanket, it's late evening, the fire is just out of the frame, and we're both laughing…and visibly stoned out of our minds.
My throat closes up and goes hot and thick. I hear Faye approaching. "You put us up on the mantle?"
She puts a mug in my hands. "That was the best day I've had in twenty goddamned years, missy. Of course you're on my mantle."
"Gah," I hiss. "Canoneperson just be mean to me for two fucking seconds so I can stop crying? Jesus." I rub my eyes with my empty hand.
She laughs. "Sorry, darling, no can do. Sit down, drink that, and talk to Grammy.” She nuzzles my cheek with her prickly lips and soft nose. "That's what Ben and Alaina call me."
I let her guide me to the couch, and once I’ve sat down, I rub my hands on the lime-green velour. "This couch is amazing."
She snorts. "I love it. Tommy hated it. I think he sat on it a total of six times, ever. I bought it just because of how much he hated it." She points at the decapitated head of a deer on the wall. “That was his revenge."
I gag. "Ugh. Deer heads as decoration."
She laughs. “Oh, I know. But he shot that with a bow. He wasveryproud. We had venison with every meal for months." She eyes me. "Why, Ember James, are you stoned?"
I hold my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "A little. I was with Felix, and I needed some…courage.”
"Still dancing around that boy, are you?"
I nod. "I told him everything. I told him things I never even told Dutchie. I told him things about Dutchie and me that should have been private. But then…" I sip coffee and discover that she's spiked it with Kahlua. I cough in surprise. "My god, that's strong. You're a party animal, Faye."
"I know. Making up for lost time, you might say." She pats my thigh, squeezes it, and then jiggles it. "My god, these legs, girl. Solid muscle!"
I roll my eyes. "I'm out of shape. I stopped working out after Dutchie died. I've actually gained a good bit of weight."
"Oh, hush your mouth," she snaps, and then smirks at me. "What did our delicious Mr. Crowe have to say when he saw you naked?"
I frown at her. "How do you know he saw me naked?"
