Page 32 of Mourner for Hire
“Of course not. You never do any time a pretty thing walksinto your life. You always keep women at arm’s length and give them your nickname,” she calls me out.
“And hits them with the line,that’s what my friends call meso they’ll say,oh, so we’re friends?” Eli throws in, adding a female inflection on the last bit, which would be funny if it weren’t so honest.
“Though, many women have a degree in internet searches and figure out exactly what your name is even though you think you’re being charming by telling them it’s Dunner,” Joelle adds.
“Hey, you call me Dunner,” I reason with a small shrug.
“And this one probably didn’t care enough to look you up. And that’s what’s bothering you.” Eli points at me.
I tilt my head slightly. “First of all, don’t slut-shame me. And second of all, no, I’m not mad she didn’t look me up before she left town.”
Eli sips his beer, his eyes becoming slits as he reads me. “Right. You just named a drink after her.”
I throw my hands up. “Hey, we just got through with my mother’s funeral, and I would hope you guys would show me a little more sympathy.”
“Honey, we’ve been showing you sympathy for months, and we still will. But we’re also going to give you a dose of reality. I think she’s going to be coming back to town, and you’re going to have to figure it all out,” Joelle says as their daughter, Lucy, bounds over with a Dr. Pepper.
“Can I have more quarters for the pinball machine?” she asks.
I grab four coins from the quarter jar under the bar. “Have fun, kid. This is the only day you’ll get to enjoy the bar.”
She beams at me and skips through the now-empty bar. The emotions that run through a person on the day of a loved one’s funeral aren’t normal. Two hours ago, we were all crying and trying to hold it all together for eulogies and prayers. Then, everyone left was smiling and laughing, playing games, and toasting my mother. It’s how she would have wanted it. Now thebar is back to empty while I debrief with the people who matter most to me.
Cry as much as you want,she said.Just make sure you still laugh enough to drown out the tears.
My mother was a complex woman. Full of emotions and strange logic. Everything she did eventually made sense even if it didn’t add up in the moment. But she loved well. She wasn’t mysterious or lonely. She didn’t have secrets as far as I knew, so I don’t understand why she’d even hire someone like Vada, let alone put her in the will to fix up the cottage.
I drag a hand down my face, exhausted from the day, and lean back on the liquor rack behind me. “I just don’t get it. Why would my mom be leaving the cottage to her?”
“What did your mom tell you before she died?” Eli asks.
“She didn’t tell me. Not specifically. She just said I wouldn’t have to worry about the cottage. That way, I can focus on… other things.” I hesitate over the last two words. Eli understands exactly what I’m talking about without me having to say anything more. That’s why we’ve been friends for so long.
“Have you applied?” he asks.
“Yes.” I grind my knuckles against the bar. Realizing this time I have to figure out my life without anything else dictating the path I’m on.
“And?”
When Eli gets like this—short and to the point—I can feel our age gap. He’s three years older than me, and most of the time, I forget. Until he starts acting like a pseudo big brother.
“Just waiting,” I answer, but if I’m honest, whether or not I’m accepted back into any program is the last thing on my mind.
“You’re going to make a great doctor, Dunner,” Joelle says, squeezing my arm. “Your parents would be very proud of you.”
My tale is as old as time: scrawny teenager joins the military to get out of the small town he never left. He’s on the path towards righteousness, serves his time, leaves the military, and goes to school before tragedy strikes and he’s sent back to his hometownfor his father’s funeral only to return permanently when his mother gets sick—to make up for lost time. The difference is, this time, I’m reluctant to go back and complete my residency. I’m pushing thirty, and it makes me feel like I’m aging out.
Now I’m just twisted up in this town bar. I don’t regret coming back home. I don’t regret giving up my career in the medical field, because I got the last few years of my mom’s life instead. Precious time that cannot be replaced with careers, money, or degrees that we hang on our walls.
Still, my stomach turns when I realize how much of this story is written on my face or how I carry it on my shoulders that Vada read me like the book she was reading at the bar the night we met. Or met again. Supposedly she’s from here.
Apparently, we knew her and her mom once upon a time. But in life, people come and go. And she has been gone for decades. It doesn’t seem fair that shegets to come back and stake claim on something she doesn’t even remember.
TEN
VADA
The siding isblue and chipped, with white trim and a yellow door. The windows are single panels, with worn cedar flower boxes on the bottom void of any flowers. A plank walkway leads to the front door, and white sand is mixed with the soil and beach grass, flanking each side.
