Page 9 of Accidentally Mine
It wasn’t hard.I’d chosen the name because it was an amalgam of my parents’ names, Lyndon and her only sister, Rose.“I’m not Rebecca anymore,” I repeated patiently.“I’m Roselynn.”
“Oh.Of course,” she said.She patted the sofa next to her.“Come and watch.You see, this woman went to a bar to meet a blind date and ended up taking home a male prostitute, only she doesn’t know it yet!”She seemed so very gleeful about it.
I clenched my teeth.It was soft-porn.In what world was soft-porn good?And it was laughable that she actually thought I cared about the premise.I rarely watched even good television.“Ah.”
That was almost as worrying as the series of mini-strokes my mother’s sister had been having in the past few months.Something in her brain had changed, and now, my sweet, kindly aunt who used to knit me sweaters for my birthday and sit front-row at all my school awards ceremonies could think of absolutely nothing but sex.It was bizarre.
But at least I still had her.She was the only family I had left.
“I was going to make myself lunch, Rebecca,” she said after the on-screen couple reached their rousing climax.“You hungry?”
“Roselynn,” I reminded her again gently.One thing about my aunt, she was definitely set in her ways.“I’ll make you lunch.”
In the kitchen, I pulled out a skillet, bread, butter and cheese to make Marie’s favorite, grilled cheese.As I did, I watched as the insatiable couple took their love to a hot tub.Ugh.Talk about cheese.
“You know, we should probably plan for the future now, Aunt Marie,” I ventured as I moved her television tray into position and set the sandwich down in front of her.“I’ve been here three days.I have someone set up to clean out and sell Dad’s house.”
Aunt Marie picked up her sandwich and picked at the gooey cheese, pulling a string of it as far as it would go.“A guy walks into a pub and sees a sign hanging over the bar.It says, ‘Grilled Cheese Sandwich: $1.50, Chicken Sandwich: $2.50, Hand Job: $10.00.’”She grinned at me mischievously.
I gritted my teeth as I went to get her tea.
As I left the room, my aunt raised her voice, because she was so sure I didn’t want to miss any of her latest “a guy walks into a bar” jokes.“Checking his wallet to make sure he has the money, he walks up to the bar and beckons to one of the three hot blondes serving drinks to an eager-looking group of men.She says, ‘Can I help you?’”
I poured the tea, then added the milk and sugar before returning to her side.“I think I’ve heard this one,” I said, knowing nothing would dissuade her.
“‘I was wondering,’ the man asks,” my aunt continued, not dissuaded in the least.She was very good at telling jokes, using the right inflection and voices for each of the characters.Only, her jokes, just like her choice of movies, had gotten dirtier and dirtier.“‘Are you the one who gives the hand jobs?’The lady purrs, ‘Why, yes, I am.’So the man replies, ‘Well, go wash your hands!I want a grilled cheese sandwich!’”She hooted out a laugh and slapped her knee.
“That’s funny,” I said, even though I wasn’t in the mood to laugh.“But Aunt Marie, let’s talk about you.I think you need to consider selling this place and coming with me when I leave.”
My aunt suddenly turned all of her attention to me.“Move away?From Southie?But I’ve lived here all my life!”
I swallowed.I should’ve been hightailing my ass back to Chicago by now, where I could safely be lost again.I had a pretty good life there, specifically in a tiny town called Long Grove, Illinois, about thirty-five miles north of the city.Lonely, but quiet and peaceful, since I tried my best to keep to myself.
But when I’d returned after my father’s death, I learned that my aunt had had a series of mini-strokes, each one weakening her more and more.I couldn’t just leave, but every moment that I stayed here was another chance for the Markin family to find out about me.They had eyes everywhere, always watching.
I could almost feel them on me.
I sat back in a green velour chair, threadbare on the arms, that my aunt had picked out from a garage sale.She’d divorced deadbeat Uncle Hugh a thousand years ago and had lived in this place alone ever since.Dad and I’d suggested a roommate, but she’d scoffed, mostly because she liked things a certain way and no one else would ever put up with it.
“Yes, but you’re getting older.And there are some really great hospitals in Florida or Arizona.Maybe Colorado?The climate’s definitely more agreeable.”I’d be willing to move just about anywhere if that’s what it took to get her to come with me.Sometimes, I worried that the Markins might take their anger at me out on my only living relative.
She wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders and shook her head.“I’ve endured sixty-four Boston winters.”
“But—”
She gave me a conversation-ending scowl.“The devil himself wouldn’t get me to leave.I’m perfectly fine, Rebecca.”
I frowned.I knew I’d sooner part the Red Sea than Marie from South Boston.But I couldn’t just leave her.
“Speaking of devils,” she said, sliding theGlobeover to me.
I frowned down at the picture I’d seen online this morning, withMarkin Murder Sentence Overturnedwritten in big block lettering.
“How long do you think it’ll be before he’s out?”I mused.
“I don’t know,” she said, switching off the television set.“It says a week, but he has more charges, so hopefully it will be much more.Are you worried?You think he’ll come after you if they let him go?”
I shrugged.I couldn’t imagine that I’d get so lucky as to have the courts actually hold him in jail and sentence him on new charges.He was too wily for that, and the acquittal proved it.My aunt didn’t know the half of the Anthony Markin story.She only knew what she’d learned from my dad.The G-rated version.The real version was much more frightening.
