Page 76 of Sinful Promises

“She’s not dead yet.” I guess I could’ve been a tad more tactful, but it was hard when I had zero feeling for the woman who’d brought me into the world.

After a few minutes, I was led to another room which had various displays, and although it had a bit more character than the entrance, it was still creepy.

The woman left me in the room and shut the door behind her. Unsure if this was a ploy to make me comfortable with the surroundings, I strolled to a casket made out of a highly polished cherry-red wood and studded with gleaming gold handles. Inside, the padding was pure white and held in place by fabric buttons made out of the same material.

I tried to picture Mother lying in the casket but couldn’t. She was not pure enough for such an elegant design. Maybe they’d have black ones, with little devil’s pitchforks painted all over it. Probably not. But she definitely wouldn’t have this. This was not her thing.

Then again, I had no idea what her thing was.

And did it really matter? It’s not like she was ever going to see it.

A creaking sound had me turning to a door at the back of the room. In wobbled a man who was as wide as he was tall and with cheeks so chubby, they trembled enough to cause an earthquake. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Colin Neutron.

For the next two hours, he went through all the options available to give a loved one a special send-off—his words, not mine.

I chose cremation over a burial.

I chose a pine box over the mahogany one he continually referred me back to.

I chose oriental lilies as her choice of flower and asked him to add a few daisies to the mix.

When I told him there would be no need for a service as there wouldn’t be any guests, he stopped short, his pen tapping against his pockmarked chin. “No guests?”

“Correct. Mother made it her mission to burn friends.”

He lowered his eyes. I guessed there was no appropriate response to that.

At the end, I handed over my credit card and requested a receipt for the four thousand three hundred dollars, detailing exactly what I’d purchased.

The next day, I returned to Mother’s trailer.

The vultures had been.

But as they’d picked their way through her things, taking what they wanted, they’d done a mighty fine job of messing the trailer up even more.

I went to the office, and after handing over the cash, Pa gave me the keys to his truck. By positioning it right outside the open door to Mother’s trailer, I was able to toss things straight from the top step into the tray.

I was a woman on a mission—grabbing things and throwing them like I was deleting another bullshit memory from my past.

Inch by inch, the rooms were emptied. I didn’t look at what I was throwing out. Just grabbed and tossed. Some people took stuff from the back of the truck before it’d even settled. I didn’t care. None of it meant anything to me.

It took three days to reduce Mother’s home to an empty shell. Pa and I made five trips to the dump, which was a three-hour round trip. He turned out to be quite chatty when his wife wasn’t around, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed his company. At the end, I paid him extra. Not specifically for all his help, but because he was so nice about it and didn’t ask me any probing questions.

After our last trip to the dump, just as the sun kissed the horizon, Pa found me inside Mother’s empty van, sitting at the table where I’d eaten breakfast alone way too many times.

He knocked once. “Permission to enter?” He held up two bottles of Corona. “I hope you like beer. It’s all I got.”

I laughed. “Absolutely.”

He sat with me, and as if we’d choreographed it, we pushed our slivers of lime into the bottles and clinked our beers together. Neither of us made a toast. It wasn’t really an occasion to celebrate.

I loved that he was happy to sit in silence with me. It was such a refreshing change.

I swigged my beer and smiled at him. “Thank you for your help.”

He flicked his hand. “You did all the hard work.”

I lowered the bottle to the table and shifted in my seat, angling toward him. “Did you know my mother?”

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