Page 13 of Where Love Lies

“Well, Ma, this is the new place.” My voice cracks as I speak to the seven-by-nine-inch urn.

“Where are we going to put her?” Paige asks. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times.

We both look around the house for the perfect place.

“What about there?” Paige points to the dining room. I follow her hand. There’s a built-in cabinet for fine China on the wall behind the table. We don’t have fancy plates. Half the time, we use paper plates. I had no idea what I was going to put there. Until now.

“That’s a good idea.” Taking the urn, I place her high on the top shelf and center her. She can look over us, and we can see and feel her presence anytime we’re in here.

I take a step back, placing both my hands together, and just stare at it. I can’t believe she’s actually gone, but it’s nice having her here. It a confusing feeling.

“I really miss her,” she mutters, and the tears I’ve been fighting finally cascade down my cheeks. Sniffling, I grab Paige by the shoulder and pull her close. We have each other. Since the day I found out she was in my belly, we’ve treaded through everything that has brought together. And as Paige’s mom, I can’t let this consume her. She has her whole life ahead of her.

“Why don’t you go watch some TV?” I suggest. Walking away, she says, “I’m going to go to my bedroom.” I sigh at her response and go to the kitchen to make some coffee, my eyes slipping over to the urn. I want to tell my mother about the neighborhood and Heston, but maybe it’s weird talking to a bag of ashes—to carry on a conversation as if she can really hear me…

I glance at it again, then over my shoulder, making sure Paige is gone, so she doesn’t judge me.

“Well, Mom, the new place is really nice. Well…aside from a couple weird neighbors.” I pause, thinking what my mother’s response to that would be. Probably something along the lines ofweird means character—which this world lacks.Smiling to myself, I continue, “I also met a guy. You’d like him. He’s a gentleman, nothing like Cam.” I turn around, my hands on the counter. The Keurig brews behind me, brushing the air with the scent of light coffee beans. “I wish you could meet him.” I wonder what she would say about Heston. She encouraged me to move on after Cam, but I never did. I don’t know what words of wisdom she’d have to offer now.

She was the type of person who either liked or hated you. She despised Cam from the moment she met him, and I’d been heedless to her opinion. She’d say he looked like an asshole and talked like one—and all I saw was that damn smile and the way his ass looked in a pair of jeans. I’d like to think Mom would approve of Heston being so different from Cam. I’ve always looked to my mom for approval. Not having her to run to has made me make so many bold decisions on my own. Getting a house, going on a date, dressing up—it’s all been amazing but also stressful. It's hard not having someone standing behind me, telling me if it’s a good idea or not.

If she didn’t like Heston, would I listen this time?

8

It’s near noon, and I still stand here against the counter, quietly drinking my coffee. I can’t help but stare at the urn on the cabinet right in front of me. My mind’s a complete blank as quietness wraps around me like a gentle blanket.

Knock, knock, knock.

I jump, nearly spilling my coffee down my shirt.

The doorbell rings, replacing the hard knocking. Someone is obviously trying to get my attention. I hurry to the door and swing it open to a medium-sized man in a striped button-up and black pants glaring at me. Standing next to him is a young girl, maybe Paige’s age. Her black hair is pencil straight with pink tips. She’s in a tight, ripped-up black shirt with lace trim, and her small waist nearly swims in jeans that are way too big for her.

“Your daughter got mine drunk last night,” the father informs angrily. My mouth drops at his tone and what the hell he just insinuated. My Paige?

“Are you sure?” Scratching my head, I look at the girl next to him, then back to him. This doesn’t make sense. Paige doesn’t even know this girl!

“Yes, I’m sure.” I have no idea what to say. Paige must have done this while I was gone all day. But why? This is so unlike her.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. We just moved here,” I inform him. Besides, Paige has never touched my wine.

“That’s great to know trouble just moved next door! Layla doesn’t need any more bad influences in her life. Maybe get ahold of your kid before she taints the whole neighborhood!” He’s nearly shouting now, his cheeks flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead. Even if Paige did what he’s accusing her of, does he understand it was his kidandmine? How dare he come over here and talk down to me! My shoulders rise, anger spreading inside, ready to burst. I have to remind myself this is a new place and I really want to make friends with everyone—including this jerk. I want the good and the bad this suburb has to offer. I want to live the American dream. Inhaling a calming breath, I look away, finding Owen and Flynn walking around their yard. Owen kneels down, looking at his plants. Flynn stares up at the sky as if an airplane is coming, but there’s no plane. Owen glances up, and we lock eyes before he jerks his attention to the plant.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” I ask the man, propping our door open with my hip. I haven’t met this man yet, making this encounter beyond awkward.

“I’m Earl, Earl Grady. My family and I live right next door.” He points to the left, the one with the white front door. His yard vacant of flowers or bushes. It’s plain, boring.

I take a sip of my coffee and watch him carefully, thinking about what to say. Tossing my coffee in his face is out of the question for now, but I don’t want to be a pushover either. I remember the time I was playing music too loud, while making a special piece for a show my mother was going to, the neighbors across the landing came over yelling and cussing that I woke him up and now he’s going to be late for work. The situation ended with me paying him fifty dollars, just so I didn’t have to fight.

“Look, I hear you. The whole block can. I’ll have a word with my daughter.”

“Aword?” His head tilts to the side, as if I’ve lost my mind, his tone insinuating my “talk” is too easy of a punishment. He’s really starting to piss me off. It’s too early in the day for this crap.

“Look, my daughter has never done this before, so yes, I’m going to talk to her and figure out why she decided to sneak out with a stranger and drink, if you don’t mind,” I reply with a sharp tongue, flicking my scowl to Layla.

He stands up straighter, glances at his daughter, then back to me with piercing eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” He sounds more appeased, but I have a feeling this won’t be the last of this guy.

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