Page 2 of A Lifetime in 30 Days
“Then they’ll send the body to a funeral home and his mother can bury him.”
Vanna’s head jerked back in Granny’s direction. “His mother?”
“Yeah. That triflin’ hussy that birthed him and defended him at every turn.”
In addition to not liking Caleb, Granny couldn’t stand his mother, Gail Carlson-Ledwig. Vanna didn’t like Gail too much either—for pretty much the same reasons Granny had—but she had tried to respect the woman for Caleb’s sake.
“Yeah, I guess she’ll want to bury him.” She sighed. “And since they didn’t call her first, I guess I’ll have to tell her.” Damn, she had hoped after she’d put Caleb out of her house and her life that she’d never have to see or speak to his mother again.
“Mothers shouldn’t have to bury their kids,” Granny said, and for the first time since she’d picked Vanna up that morning, there was just a hint of sadness in her tone. It probably wasn’t so much for Caleb or Gail, but more for the sentiment.
Frito barked vehemently as they passed a man walking his rottweiler down the street. This little dog had a complex. He really thought he was bigger and stronger than his compact twenty-five-pound body was.
“I still have a policy on him,” Vanna stated as an afterthought.
“What? Why?” Granny asked. “You don’t owe that man squat. Why would you continue to pay premiums on a policy for him?”
She shrugged. “We bought the policies at the same time. The auto pay was set to my account, and I wasn’t trying to die first and have you struggling to pay for my burial. ’Cause you know if he wasn’t paying the mortgage, car payment, or utilities, he definitely wasn’t going to pay life insurance premiums.”
And truth be told, she hadn’t really thought about those policies until now. It was a debit she saw on her monthly account statements, but that was it. At the time of their separation, the only other bills they had jointly were the car insurance and the cable bills, which he had actually canceled during those first few weeks when he was pissed at her for saying it was over.
“He wasn’t paying those bills because you were too busy doing it for him,” Granny said, then held up a hand to halt Vanna’s words. “Don’t sass me. I know what was what between you two, and you know it.”
Vanna did know it, because for all the things she sometimes held back from her best friends, Jamaica and Ronni, she told Granny everything. Always had.
“Anyway,” Vanna continued, but without the response she’d previously planned to say, “I’m sure his mother has a policy on him too. So I’ll just cash mine out and go on about my business.”
“Hmmpf” was Granny’s only response.
Frito apparently had more to say, as his yapping once again filled the air. Vanna was used to his gravelly dog talk, but she really wasn’t in the mood for it with the morning she was having.
“I know, I know!” Granny shouted at the dog. “We’ll get back home in time.”
“Did you have something planned for today, Granny?” Vanna asked, ignoring the fact that her grandmother acted like that dog had really spoken English to her just now. “I could’ve gotten a rideshare to bring me down here.”
“Sam is buying me lunch today,” Granny said, and made a turn that felt like they were on two wheels instead of four.
Vanna gripped the door handle to keep from sliding across the back seat.
“And you know I’m never too busy for you.” Granny continued talking as if horns weren’t blaring at her and one driver hadn’t rolled down their window to curse at her. “I already told him I want a sub from Jersey Mike’s, so he can put the order in and have it delivered to the building by the time we get back. I’m gettin’ the Italian today.”
The ME’s office hadn’t opened until ten that morning, and they’d been in there for about half an hour. By the time Granny dropped her off at the rental-car place Vanna had given her the address to when they were sitting in the waiting room, she could easily make it back to the senior building she and Sam lived in, located about fifteen minutes from Vanna’s house in Upper Marlboro.
“You don’t need all that lunch meat. The salt is going to give you a horrible headache; then you’ll be whining the rest of the day,” Vanna said.
She reached for her purse and dug around inside to pull out her phone and check her emails. Her notifications were on, so she would’ve gotten a buzz with a new email or text message, but she needed to do something that felt halfway normal today. Because this impromptu trip to the morgue, with her speeding grandmother and this loud yapping dog, wasn’t it.
Oh, how wrong the card she pulled from the box of affirmations and motivations on her dresser had been. At least once a day she plucked one out to give herself a mental boost, and they always worked. Today’s card had read:All journeys need a first step.
If staring at her husband’s dead body without puking up the two cups of coffee and strawberries she’d had for breakfast was the first step, she was fairly certain she didn’t want to be on this journey. Just let her off the train right now before the wreck ensued.
Okay, that was probably the exact type of thought those cards were supposed to combat. Especially since the anxiety she’d sought counseling for years ago—but refused any type of medication to help balance—had been on full blast since the phone call informing her that her husband was dead.
“Already took my pressure pills,” Granny continued without knowing about the secondary conversation Vanna was having in her head. “So I’ll be just fine. I’m getting the regular-size sandwich too. Gonna eat half for lunch and save the rest for my dinner.”
“You could’ve gotten the mini and then had something a little healthier for dinner,” Vanna said before navigating to her personal inbox on her phone.
She was infinitely more invested in those messages than the ones in her work inbox.
