After that, whenever Kristen was curled up on the lumpy violet couch in the living room doing her homework, she would look into the hallway at the mural and imagine she really was kicking evil in the face. For a moment, she’d feel powerful and unstoppable. It had been months since she’d felt either way.
Her gaze moved from the mural to the stairs. When Mom was alive, as soon as Kristen got home, she’d let the dogs out, make a snack for two, and take the tray upstairs to Mom’s room. There they’d talk about Kristen’s day at school, about Kristen’s work with Ava, and everything else.
But Mom was gone now, and here sat Kristen, alone. Forever.
Her chest tightened until it felt as if someone were sitting on it, but it was nothing compared to the hollowness that now echoed in her very soul. That was the hardest part, the loneliness. Even when she was sitting with her friends or walking through the crowded halls of her high school, she felt deeply alone. She didn’t know why, but she did. It just was, and now that feeling was a part of Kristen.
Suddenly restless, she got up and went into the living room. But everywhere she looked, she saw bits and pieces of Mom. Paintings, figurines, sketchbooks, and cups of colored pencils were scattered around the room like a trail of breadcrumbs.
“You’re home early.” Grandma Ellen stood in the opposite doorway, her phone in one hand.
Kristen shrugged. “Ava had something to take care of at the greenhouses.”
“Ah. I didn’t even realize you were here. I’ve been on a conference call with the office all afternoon.”
Grandma Ellen was dressed in blue slacks and a shimmery cream-colored shirt, her hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck. She looked as if she were in a commercial for an expensive brand of old women’s makeup rather than standing in Kristen’s and Mom’s messy house.
Not that there was anything wrong with a messy house. Mom used to say that dust bunnies were the spirit animals of creatives.
Grandma Ellen smiled in her too-stiff, too-cautious way, as if she expected Kristen to suddenly sprout wings and a tail and fly through the air like a bat. “How was school today?”
“Fine.” She walked past Grandma and went to the kitchen. Mom had rarely mentioned her mother, so Kristen didn’t know much about her grandma except that she was an architect and was “super judgy,” as Mom had put it. Kristen had been six when Grandma and Mom had had their big falling-out, which had led to Mom and Kristen moving here to Dove Pond. Kristen barely remembered the time before their move, and over the years, her memories of her grandmother had scattered and faded until there were few left.
“There are so many paintings in this house.” Grandma Ellen had followed Kristen into the kitchen and now stood beside a series of small paintings Mom had made of the park downtown. “Your mother was prolific, wasn’t she?”
“It’s who she was.” Kristen opened the back door and stood to one side so the dogs could crowd inside, their tails wagging so hard it looked as if they were dancing. She patted them all, cooing over them and smiling as they wandered off to their various perches on the living room couches and chairs.
“Your poor furniture,” Grandma Ellen murmured.
Kristen ignored her. Grandma Ellen could dislike the dogs all she wanted, but Kristen loved her doggos and wasn’t about to part with them—not a one.
She realized her hands had curled into fists and she stuffed them back into the front pocket of her hoodie before her grandmother noticed. Geez, but she was so mad. It was as if every bit of her boiled with fury, and she was exhausted from fighting the urge to explode.
Her anger was childish, but she couldn’t seem to snuff it out. It simmered through her off and on throughout the day, growing as the hours ticked past. Worse, she wanted other people to be angry, too, especially her uptight, critical grandmother. Slanting a look at her now, Kristen said, “You never said what you thought of Mom’s funeral. Pretty cool, wasn’t it?”
Grandma Ellen’s smile froze in place. “I’m sure it was exactly what your mother wanted.”
“Yes, but what did you think of it?” Kristen waited, savoring the uncomfortable expression on Grandma Ellen’s thin face. It had been painfully obvious to everyone at the funeral that Grandma had hated everything, but it was equally obvious she was also trying extremely hard not to upset Kristen. She wants me to agree to go to Raleigh without a fuss. That’s not going to happen. I won’t go. I just won’t.
True to form, Grandma Ellen said in a bland, neutral voice, “It was different.”
“And?” Kristen said in a challenging tone.
Grandma Ellen’s gaze moved over Kristen’s face and then narrowed as if she knew what was going on. “It was original, just like your mother. She could never stand to be thought of as normal.”
That’s because, unlike you, she knew “normal” doesn’t exist. It said a lot that Grandma Ellen had ignored the instructions from the invitation. Everyone else in Dove Pond had dressed in bright colors, which had left Grandma Ellen looking like a thin black crow perched in a row of songbirds.
Turning away, Kristen opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of chocolate milk, wondering if that was what Mom had had in mind all along.
“Well!” Grandma Ellen said brightly. “I’m glad you got to come home early today.”
Kristen wasn’t glad of that at all. She was worried about Ava, who’d been acting weird this whole week, too quiet and inside her head a lot. What’s going on with her? She’s super on edge. It was upsetting to see her like that, and Kristen, who didn’t want to add to Ava’s stress, was left even more alone than usual. Absolutely fricking everything in my life sucks right now.
Grandma Ellen slid into a chair on the other side of the counter. “The tearoom is going to be beautiful once it’s done. I was quite impressed with what I saw when I stopped by Monday.”
Come to think of it, that was about the same time Ava had started acting so distracted. Kristen eyed her grandmother narrowly. “What did you two talk about when you were there?”
Grandma Ellen shrugged. “The tearoom, some decorating possibilities, the new bar she’d just installed… that sort of thing. And you, of course. She had a lot of good things to say about you.”
Kristen took a quick drink of her milk, hoping to hide her suddenly hot cheeks. She was glad to hear that. If she had an older sister, she’d want one just like Ava.
“We didn’t have time to talk about much because some woman came in—I can’t remember her name—and complained that her tea hadn’t helped in the way she’d been promised.” Grandma Ellen absently traced the edge of the counter with her finger. “I suppose it’s not surprising some people feel cheated. Ava promises a lot more than is possible.”
“Ava’s teas work,” Kristen said fiercely. “I’ve seen them.”
“Oh?” It was said politely, calmly, but it was painfully clear what that “oh” meant.
Too angry to speak, Kristen turned back to the fridge and poured more chocolate milk into her glass. The old woman was the queen of criticizing people without saying anything negative. Every remark was a thinly veiled suggestion that if Kristen or Mom had really tried, they could have done better. That must be what Mom had meant when she said her mother was judgy.