“I know, Aedyn,” she said with a placating look.
“She was your sister and he was mean to her in the end. Why do you even care?”
“I guess drinking was his way of handling her cancer and everything that followed.”
“He was a coward. He couldn’t handle Mom’s cancer diagnosis so he drank. He deserved to die alone.” I knew it sounded harsh, but I didn’t give a damn. He was a loser who brought nothing, but sadness and disappointment to my life. Some father-figure he turned out to be. “Why should I care about him?”
“He was your father.”
“He was a sperm donor.”
“Bitter are we?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Although I was close to my aunt and I could talk to her about anything, I didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing old wounds right now. I just wanted to get this over with and get back to Chicago.
Aunt Melissa gave a sweeping look around the room and set her purse down on the couch. “I suppose.” She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Richard abandoned the house the last couple of years. No one knew where he was. He was behind on the property taxes and in the end… who knows if he even made all of the mortgage payments. It’s a shame.”
I knew. And he hadn’t. I had, for some stupid reason. I walked over to one of the packing boxes and lifted a porcelain knick-knack out of the box. “Do you want this?” It was an elegant porcelain figurine of a beautiful woman in a flowing gown. The long skirt of her white dress billowed out to the side and a blue shawl draped over her arms blew in the same direction as the skirt, as if she were walking through a pleasant breeze. The statue’s hair swept with it and she was looking over her shoulder at a bird perched on the wind-swept scarf. I knew these statues were collector’s items among women my aunt’s age and thought she might like to keep it.
She looked at it and a slow smile crossed her face. “Your mother collected those. I’m surprised you found it. I thought Richard got rid of all of her things after she died. I came over here once in a while and noticed her things would be gone piece by piece. Then, I just stopped coming by.”
“Who took care of the yard? I expected it to be an overgrown jungle by the time I came.”
Aunt Melissa shot a sheepish glance my way and said, “I confess. I came by once in a while to mow the yard and trim the hedges. I didn’t want the city to fine him for neglect of the property. I kind of always thought of the house as yours anyway, seeing that you’re the only child.”
“Thank you for that. You’re very thoughtful, but…” I made a sweeping gesture around the room with my hand. “Take anything you want, furniture, dishes, anything that strikes your fancy. I’m getting rid of all of it.”
“It looks like you have quite a job here, to pack up all of this.”
“Yes, I do. The place was in disrepair when I came in, but I’m staying here just the same. Better than Motel 6.” There wasn’t much in the way of accommodations in this town; especially any that matched the caliber of what I’d grown used to. Since I had to clean this place up, I decided it was better to just stay here for the brief time I needed to finish the job. I’d considered hiring a company to pack it all up and haul it to the local thrift shop—or the dump—but had invited my aunt to come over and have first dibs on anything she wanted. I had no desire to make any money from what was in the house. In my eyes, it was all junk. I wasn’t looking to make a profit from it or the sale of the house either. I had plenty of money of my own. All I wanted was to sell low and be done with it. I had a momentary thought of hiring a wrecking ball to level the place, but that fantasy was just fueled by my resentment.
The figurine landed in her big purse and we began the process of going through the house. I walked her into the kitchen and pointed out a matching teacup set she might be interested in keeping.
Then we walked into the family room, where there was a desk in the corner with a very outdated looking computer sitting on top. The screen was covered in dust, along with most of the items in the house. I had only bothered to clean the sheets on the bed I was using since I was throwing everything out. There was a book sitting on the desk. I picked it up and casually flipped through the pages. It was one of my old French textbooks from Roosevelt High School. I remembered how my father had berated me because I couldn’t find it and he had to pay a fine to the school’s library for not returning it by graduation.
Graduation. My jaw tightened at the memory. My mom had so wanted to watch me walk across that stage. She’s held on, but only barely. She was in the hospital dying that day and I was by her side, having turned down the position of Valedictorian so I could stay with her.