I stood then.“I can’t.”
Mary turned tofollow me with her stare. “But-”
Suddenly, Iran to the half bath off the kitchen and threw myself down, barelymaking it to the toilet. Rum and lasagna filled the bowl and leftmy body convulsing until there was nothing left. My throat burned,raw from vomit and the not-hardly-chewed food that scrapped acrossit, but Mary stood behind me and pulled back my hair, patting andrubbing my back.
“My poorgirl,” she spoke, “this brings back memories of your teens.” Marylaughed, the sound deep and raspy. “You’d go out drinking to thoseshed parties and come crawling in through my door at all hours ofthe night. Too scared to go home and face your father.”
I turned myhead and rested my cheek against the cold toilet seat. “Not scaredof him. I was scared of myself. Of what I’d say to him.” I began tocry again, hot tears filled my eyes, overflowed and coursed downacross my face. “I didn’t want to add to his misery. He was so sad…so lost.”
“I know,m’love, I know.” Mary held my hair in her hands and brushed it withher fingers, gently forming it into a ponytail. “You always hadthis gorgeous nest of black curls. Just like your mom. Everyonealways admired her beauty. Soft, tanned skin. Even in the winter.You’re the spit right outta her mouth, Dianna.”
I cried somemore, unable to control the heaving sobs that erupted from my gut.“I miss her so much.” My eyes demanded to close, and my head spun.But I could feel the soft brush of tissue against my skin as Marywiped the tears, snot, and remnants of vomit from my face. “Why didit have to take her from me?”
“What,sweetie?”
“Mmmsea.” I could feel myself drifting, threatening to pass out rightthere on the bathroom floor. The long plane ride, the emotionalexhaustion, and the gut full of rum had brought me to my limit. Mywords slurred as I tried hard to stay awake and speak them outloud. “The sea took her away from me.”
That wasall I remembered. Although, I vaguely recalled Aunt Mary laying medown on the cool, white tile floor. As she propped my head up witha pillow, she muttered the words hadto and home, butI couldn’t piece together the sentence. I was too far gone, and Inever wanted to come back.
Chapter Four
The steady flow of gravel beneath the tirescreated a constant hum that swirled in my vulnerable stomach andthe cold glass of the window felt good on my sweaty face as Ileaned against it. In the driver’s seat, Aunt Mary was silent, aprotest to my behaviorat the funeral, I imagine.
“I’msorry,” I choked, my throat still raw from the coarse vomiting Ihad done the previous night. My gross, dry lips stuck together asthe words crawled out.
Without evenglancing at me, Mary threw up her hand. “Don’t. I don’t want tohear it.”
The car rolledto a stop just outside my parent’s house–my house–and reliefflooded my body at the thought of being alone again. The funeralwas pure torture for me. Surrounded by family members I’d barelyrecognized, all eyes on me, and the closed oak colored casket thatsat like an elephant in the room.
So, naturally,I retreated into a shell the whole time and, when it was my turn toget up and speak the words purged from my body just like the rumand lasagna the night before. I couldn’t help it or stop it, thewords demanded to come out. All the feelings I’d bottled up overthe last decade, my conflictions over my father’s death, how he’druined my mother’s legacy by letting his life and the things they’dbuilt together just fade away and be replaced with misery.
I crossed myarms like a child and continued to stare out the window, refusingto get out until she accepted my apology. “Well, I am, though.”
Mary heaved asigh as she leaned back and let the silence hang between us. Aftera minute or two she finally spoke. “I know you are, Dianna.” Shetook off her seatbelt. “I’m just disappointed, is all.” Mary openedher door to get out and I reluctantly followed suit. Every movementhurt my body and threatened my stomach, but the fresh air felt goodin my lungs. Mary circled the car then, coming toward me.
“Youdon’t have to stay,” I told her. “I know you have the luncheonthing at the house.”
“Whatkind of person would I be if I just dropped you off at the curblike a bag of garbage?”
“Abetter person than me, probably.” Hangover shivers shook through mybody as I wrapped my arms tightly across my torso. “I’m just gonnago back to sleep for a few hours. I’ll be fine.”
AuntMary grabbed me by the upper arms, forcing me to look down into herface. A mess of grey curls whipped around her, as if part of thewind, and she smiled. “I know you’ll be fine, Dianna. But I wantyou to be more than just fine. I’d hoped this trip home would be somesort of closure for you, that you’d be… I don’t know.Happier?”
I feltcompelled to tell her what she wanted to hear but couldn’t bearlying to my aunt. “I know.” My cold hand clasped around her warmone that still firmly held one of my shoulders. “But, for now, fineis all I can do.”
She hugged methen, a quick warm embrace, and then headed back to the car. “I’llbe back after everyone is gone. And I’ll bring you some food.”
“Sure,sounds good. Bring some for both of us. We’ll eat suppertogether.”
Mary smiledand waved before getting in her car and then I watched as she droveoff down the gravel road, finally leaving me alone. Ever since themoment she peeled me off the bathroom floor that morning, all I’dwanted was to retreat to my house and sleep for a million years. Irarely drank alcohol past the point of a social drink or a glass ofwine with supper. So, a hangover as heavy as the one I wasexperiencing felt like
