Page 4 of Switching Graves

She’s struggled with every relationship outside of the one with my father and was fully estranged from her family before I was a thought in their minds. She and my aunt were best friends once. That’s how they ended up married to a set of twins from the wrong side of the tracks of their small town. But those stories always seem like nothing more than fiction. For as long as I’ve known them, they’ve been cordial at best.

As I grew older, my dad started to explain things to me a little more clearly. Mom wasn’t always this way. Something happened to her. Something traumatic. Our job as her family was to show her we loved her beyond it all. That she was worthy of the beautiful life she had.

So, I did. I poured my heart into her. I fed her soul with little pieces of my own as often as possible in a desperate attempt to keep her anchored here, just as she always said I could.

But it wasn’t enough.

Iwasn’t enough.

She still pulled the wheel and took my entire life with her.

Poppy, hasn’t left my side since we received the news a few weeks ago. She’s as confused as I am, and we keep repeating the same conversation, trying to make sense of it all.

We had just spoken to them. They dropped us off at the dance with the promise of being back to pick us up in a few hours. We were planning the rest of our weekend like we did all the time—with Poppy staying at our house because she couldn’t stand her own home.

How could my mother make such a drastic decision that completely destroyed my life? How could she lie so well?

The insecure thoughts play in my mind on repeat.

I’m to stay with my aunt and uncle until we figure out a ‘more permanent solution,’ as Aunt Divina says. As my mother’s longtime friend—a term Mom used loosely—and my father’s sister-in-law, she was the one to call their families and handle their funerals in the eloquent way that only someone without a heart could do.

“It’s all a farce,” Poppy complained one night. “She just loves looking like a savior.”

I want to agree with her, knowing what I do about my aunt. She’s never been kind to me. Never attempted to get to know the child of the woman she supposedly grew up with or the girl her daughter was best friends and cousins with. But every time I hear Poppy complain about her parents, I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her.

You still have your parents,I imagine myself screaming.You still get to be annoyed with them and argue with them and hug them. I have nothing.

Taking my anger out on Poppy won’t bring them back, and my loss doesn’t mean she has to stamp out her own emotions.

There’s an odd shift that happens when you lose the source from which you came. Like, I’m just flowing around the world, untethered and alone.

No one else seems to understand.

It’s been a month since they died, and Uncle Graysen’s lawyer has finally gotten his hands on their will—a task that my uncle complained took far too many billable hours to complete. Poppy overheard him setting up the meeting yesterday, so she dragged me into his office where we can hear firsthand what, exactly, is going to happen to me.

We huddle together in the small closet of his study, careful not to breathe too loudly or make sudden movements that will call attention to the slightly ajar cabinet door we’re hiding behind. Just as we had done when we were kids, we fight each other to peer into the sliver of light to catch a glimpse of who entered the room behind Uncle Graysen. Of course, we can’t see a thing without giving ourselves away.

Aunt Divina’s heels come clicking down the hall before they go silent against the carpeted floor of the study, and a door clicks shut behind her. A flash of blonde hair passes through our line of sight, then disappears again.

“Who knows where they’ve run off to,” she huffs out in her usual irritated tone. “They’ll be too busy getting into things they shouldn’t be touching to bother us, though.”

“Divina, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” a grisly voice greets. “I wish it weren’t under these circumstances.”

“You as well, Leonard. We’re eager to hear what kind of mess was left behind from this horrible accident.”

Graysen clears his throat as my aunt’s slender legs quickly pass by the closet, and then a chair is dragged across the carpet.

“To be honest, I didn’t think my brother would have a will drawn up at all. He never expected to leave us this early, and the idea of death made him and Constance uncomfortable,” Graysen’s kind voice explains, as if he felt the need to defend his family against his wife’s cruel words.

“Well, thankfully they mustered up the strength, anyway. We would have quite a legal ordeal on our hands if they hadn’t. Between the girl and all their outstanding debt . . . ” The other man—Leonard—says, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

A disgusted grunt sounds from the direction Aunt Divina disappeared into, out of view. Poppy clicks her tongue, and I don’t have to turn around to see that she’s rolling her eyes at her mother’s crass response. If I could see their faces, I’m sure Uncle Graysen would be shooting her a withering stare that matched his daughter’s.

Aunt Divina was never quiet about her distaste for my parents’ financial choices.

Ignoring her little outburst, Leonard goes on. “The will is straightforward. The house deed was signed over to you in the case that they should expire before their daughter reached the legal age. Graysen was named Executor, with all of their belongings going straight to the child once she comes of age.”

“And what about her?” Aunt Divina interrupts. “Did they name anyone to take her in? Her mother has family members who have expressed interest, and Graysen’s father resides in Colorado. He may be able to help, at least for part of the year.” There’s a hopefulness in her voice as she lists off every surviving family member my parents have, careful not to include herself or Uncle Graysen.

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