Page 104 of No Such Thing as Serendipity

Then she stopped and walked back toward me with her own gait. Her eyes were full of sadness—angst. Emma pointed at me and then pointed to where she had been dancing. She smiled, but her eyes were sad. She kept pointing between me and where she’d been dancing.

I realized she wanted confirmation that I understood she’d been portraying the joy Auntie Bess brought to our lives, so I nodded.

She smiled at me and moved closer. The sadness in her eyes tore at my heart. But where was she going with this? Surely, she wouldn’t relive Auntie Bess’s death.

Then she put her hands over her face, and her shoulders shook. When she removed her hands from her face, she looked to the ceiling, and her mouth opened as if she were screaming.

What the fuck?She was going there. But why? I looked on helplessly at the anguish and pain on my sister’s face. Then she did something else I wasn’t prepared for.

She ran her hands down the side of her head. When she reached the bottom of her hair, she flipped her hands out as if showing an up flip at the ends.

No!

Then she put her hands on her stomach and pretended to tie something.

Mama.And that stupid apron she had until the day she died.

Emma met my gaze, and my eyes must have told her I understood because she dropped to her knees and repeated the gesture she’d done earlier as herself.

As Mama, she raised her fist toward the heavens and shook it. I’d never recognized how much Emma resembled our mom until this moment.

I struggled to catch my breath as I watched her anguish.

It felt as if Emma had stayed on the floor for minutes, but it was likely only seconds before she rose to her feet.

My mind flashed back to the day Auntie Bess died. My mom, who’d always been the strongest woman I knew, fell apart. While she continued living, she was never the same. Or maybe it was me who wasn’t the same. I could never unsee her abject grief. Had my childhood innocence died that day?

Back on her feet, Emma reached her hand down as if putting it on our mother’s shoulder. She pretended to cry, to grieve, but the tears welling in her eyes were real.

A knife twisted in my heart as I gaped at Emma.

She pointed at me and shook her head. Her jaw tightened and eyes hardened. She gestured toward me again. Then she widened her stance, put her chin up, and placed her hands on her hips as if she were a superhero. Then she pounded on her chest while maintaining her stoic expression.

Was that how she saw me? Cold and unfeeling? Didn’t she understand someone had to hold it together for her and Mama?She heard Auntie Bess tell me to take care of the family. Auntie Bess said I was the strong one, even though I was the youngest.

I couldn’t just stand and stare any longer. I had to make Emma understand.

With a determined set to my jaw, I stepped toward Emma and waved my arms, indicating I wanted her to stop.

She dropped her hands to her sides and looked into my eyes.

Several times, I jabbed my finger into my chest hard enough to leave a bruise, but I didn’t flinch. Then I spread my arms as if scooping Emma and Mama up in my embrace. I pretended to hold them, comfort them, as Emma watched.

Her eyes softened as understanding registered.

I mimicked putting a baseball cap on, as Emma had to represent Auntie Bess. Then I pointed at my chest and then put my hand out and lowered it, trying to get Emma to understand I was Auntie Bess talking to my younger self.

I could see the young confused me when I glanced down as Auntie Bess. I was thirteen, and I needed her. She was my hero, and then she was gone. Mama harped on her all the time to stop smoking. That it would kill her. And then it did. Then she was gone, and we were left to go on without her.

I pointed down at my younger self and pretended to lecture her. Telling her she needed to take Auntie Bess’s place, taking care of Mama and Emma.

And that’s what I fucking did.I took care of them.

When I looked at Emma, surprise etched her face. Had she not known?

She crossed her hands over her chest and squeezed them against her as if giving herself a big hug, but I suspected the hug was for me.

Then her expression changed. She clenched her fists in front of her and shook them as if pleading with me. She held her handsout toward me, palms up, and then moved them toward her and placed them over her heart as her eyes softened.