Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes(51)

 

She turned, and reached her hand to my cheek. “Like you, Aunt Rose? You’re not like everybody else.”

 

Looking into those deep blue eyes, I realized it was time to take my own advice. For better or worse, I was me. I had visions of people, whether they—or I—wanted them. I had to accept them and learn to make the best of it. And just as suddenly, I realized I had lost a lot of living, twenty-four years’ worth, squandered in my fear, embarrassment, and self-pity. I didn’t want to go from one prison to another without living at least a little. If I was going to jail, I planned to fit in all the living I could first.

 

I smiled into Ashley’s sweet little face and felt a vision coming, as if on cue. This time I accepted it and without my usual resistance, the vision lasted longer than any I’d ever had before. I was in the funeral home. Violet was crying and leaning into Mike. They stood next to a casket with an open lid. I walked slowly toward it, fear gripping my heart. I was short since I was looking through Ashley’s eyes and I couldn’t see over the side. Mike picked Ashley up and I stared down into the casket.

 

It was me.

 

I looked peaceful and serene lying in the casket, like I was taking a nap. Violet stood next to Mike, openly sobbing now. I felt nothing as I watched, a void of any feeling, as though I was already dead. I glanced around the room and saw a sign on an easel with my picture on top and wording underneath.

 

 

 

Rose Anne Gardner

 

Born October 8, 1986

 

Died June 12, 2011

 

 

 

Then I was back on Ashley’s bed, looking into her smiling face.

 

“I’m going to die,” I whispered.

 

“Like Snow White?” Ashley asked in excitement. “Are you going to eat a poisoned apple?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said, the corners of my mouth lifting into a sad smile.

 

“Will your prince come wake you up, Aunt Rose?”

 

“No, Ashley, that’s make believe. Princes don’t do that in real life.”

 

“Hmm…” she said, lying on her back.

 

I was grateful she was four years old and didn’t comprehend the meaning of my words.

 

I was gonna die.

 

Suddenly, prison looked pretty good.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

 

 

There’s something freeing about knowing the date of your death. All your fears of living vanish away. Worried you’ll be in a car wreck? Afraid you’ll fall off a roof and plummet to your death? Unless it was June twelfth, I had nothing to worry about.

 

It was also strange, like somewhere a big digital display counted down the moments until I died. I didn’t know the time, but I knew the day. I had less than a week left and I was done frittering my life away.

 

Where did I start? What did I do? The list, of course. All the things I’d always wanted to do but was too afraid to try. Twenty-three tasks left to accomplish in five days. Why was I wasting time in Ashley’s bed?

 

I scrambled up, kissing Ashley on the forehead. “Aunt Rose has to go home, Ashy!”

 

When I bolted down the hall, Violet looked like I had just announced plans to join the circus. “Where are you going?”

 

“Home,” I said, grabbing my purse.

 

“What? You can’t go there! What if someone tries to break in again?” Her voice rose in panic.

 

I yanked her into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Violet. I’ll be all right.” I didn’t add for another five days anyway. No sense worrying her any more than necessary.

 

“But, Rose…”

 

“I love you, Violet!” I yelled over my shoulder and headed to my car.

 

I tried to remember my list, hoping to do something on the way home. Get cable… I picked up my cell phone and found the number for the cable company. They said they’d send someone to install it the next day. I had to ask off work to meet the cable installer, then decided to call in sick for the entire week. I sure wasn’t going to waste my last five days at the DMV.

 

Get my own place… Violet said she would sell the house to me, so that made it mine. Two items just like that. Maybe this would be easier than I thought.

 

As I drove through downtown, I noticed a pickup truck stopped at the edge of the park. The tailgate hung open and a large metal cage sat in the grass. A puppy romped next to it.

 

Get a dog.

 

I turned around and drove back to the truck, parking to the side of it. A family with two small children played with the puppy. A bigger dog, but not by much, sulked in the corner of the cage when I walked up.