Page 105 of The Two of Us

24

NOW

As I wait for the door in front of me to open, a breeze dances through the trees, lifting the hair off my shoulders.

“Hey Cat,” I whisper at the sky. “Stay close to me for this one.”

As if she’s whispering in response, the wind picks up and swirls the leaves at my feet into tiny wind eddies.

The door opens and Alima stands before me, a baking apron tied securely around her waist and a speck of flour on her cheek. She looks older, but the same as I remembered. Her warm-brown eyes are still warm even though they hold a shade of somberness, a permanent addition, I’m sure. For all of us. Neither of us speaks for a handful of seconds. Seconds always feel fast until you need them to be and right now, seconds feel like the slowest unit of time in existence.

Alima pulls the door open wider, motioning for me to come in. My heart beats so fast, I can hear it thrumming in my ear and I become afraid of not being able to hear anything she’ll say.

She leads me to a small living room area and gestures toward the matching love seats. When I sit down, I begin fiddling with my keys, trying to remember the first part of the speech I’ve prepared. It’s Alima who saves me from my loss of words.

“I’ve waited for this day for seven years,” she says, sitting down next to me.

Her voice is neutral and I’m unable to gauge the level of anger I know she feels toward me. I’m uncomfortable with how close she’s sitting next to me. Would she slap me? Oh my god, would Alima slap me? I would if I were her. I try to put a little distance between us and start scooting away when she reaches forward and takes hold of me.

Alima’s hug is the saddest expression of affection I’ve ever experienced. Neither one of us moves as our sobs of brokenness fill the air. The notes of our pain sing out together into the space around us and it’s a devastating melody.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry into her sweater. I’m soaking it, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Alima pulls back to look me in the eyes. “No, Mara. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I let my emotions take me someplace ugly that day. I needed someone to blame and you were a nearby casualty.”

I sob harder as she strokes the curls away from my face. “When the fog cleared enough for me to realize how I must have made you feel, you were already gone. Your dad wouldn’t tell me how to get ahold of you.”

“I thought you blamed me,” I whisper. “I blamed me.”

Alima shakes her head, her expression solemn. “I could never blame you, Mara. I could never blame someone Cat loved so much. You were like a daughter to me. You still are.”

I can’t believe the words coming from Alima’s mouth. My brain hurts at the idea that she doesn’t hate me. It’s difficult to accept that the truth of the situation is different from the story I’ve been telling myself in my head. But that’s the thing about truth. Sometimes we mistake our emotions for the truth. Sometimes our truth isn’t the truth at all.

Alima and I huddle close on the love seat as she asks about my life and everything she’s missed. She seems happy that Ambrose and I have crossed paths again and I want to ask her if she’s become aware of any omniscient abilities lately.

She divorced Ambrose and Cat’s dad, Robby, after Cat passed away. She didn’t want to waste life taking the important people for granted and giving too much of herself to those who didn’t deserve it. When she said she started a baking business after receiving too many horrible baked goods after Cat died, I couldn’t help but laugh. Alima’s baking skills always put everyone to shame.

I’m not surprised in the least when she explains how her new business focuses on providing quality baked goods to those who’ve experienced loss. It’s the first time I realize there can be good things that are birthed out of such horrible situations.

“I did always love your chocolate chip cookies,” I say. “I’m pretty sure they’re to thank for giving me any semblance of curves in high school.”

Alima laughs and it sounds so much like Cat, I want to make her laugh again and again. “Come, let me show you something.”

She leads me into the kitchen just as the timer above the oven goes off. I laugh when she pulls two sheets of chocolate chip cookies out. We help ourselves to the cookies and chat some more. I lose track of how long I’m there until I see the golden glow of the sun setting outside.

“I don’t want to keep you. It’s getting late. I should go.”

Before I finish buttoning up my coat, Alima motions for me to follow her to the back of the house. The patio opens out into a huge wheat field, the land going on as far as my eyes can see. I was confused when I drove up to the house—it’s in such a remote location—but now it all makes sense. A secluded residence like this has the advantage of providing an ample amount of land.

“It’s beautiful.”

She hums in agreement, looking at the field with similar adoration. As if she’s seeing it for the first time too. She points to a lone tree in the middle of the field, about fifty feet away. A maple tree, its large branches and foliage creating a shaded oasis. You’d think the tree felt lonely, standing there all by itself, but it looks right. Like it’s there for people to take refuge under it.

“That’s where Cat’s ashes are,” Alima whispers, tilting her head toward the tree.

I want to be buried under a huge tree. The biggest tree. So everyone can come and rest under me.

What comes out of me is a mixture of joy and sorrow. I’m crying, but I can’t stop the laughs escaping from my throat. “It’s her tree!”

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