Last Known Address. Elizabeth Wrenn
I open it now, or wait till your aunties arrive?’ asked C.C.
‘Wait for Aunt Meg and Shelly,’ said Lucy. ‘But you have to guess what it is now!’ She bobbed up and down on her toes.
C.C. looked at the box, hefting it. ‘Let’s see…It could be a big, fat book, but it’s too light. And I guess we can rule out a basketball, huh?’ She grinned at Lucy, who grinned back, almost filling C.C. up. She held the box near her ear, shook it gently. There was a soft rattle. ‘Umm, is it a goldfish?’ She sucked in her cheeks and crossed her eyes, giving Lucy her fish face. Lucy dissolved in giggles.
‘Nooo, Meemaw! Guess again!’
‘Knock, knock,’ said a voice, as the door pushed open.
‘Auntie Meg! Shelly!’ Shelly had long ago told Lucy to just call her Shelly, but Meg liked being an unofficial auntie, as long as there was never a ‘great’ or ‘grand’ in front.
Both women bent, Meg setting a heavy-looking tote bag on the floor. Shelly gave Lucy a quick but sturdy hug. Meg, however, kneeled, wrapped her arms around Lucy. Her eyes closed as she held her, as if feeding on the life force all little girls have to spare. A small smile appeared on Meg’s thin, pale face as Lucy grunted happily, her little arms squeezing Meg back. C.C. didn’t know whether to smile or cry. What that little girl lacks in males in her life, she makes up for in maternal love, she thought.
‘Scooch back, please, you two, so I can close the door,’ said Shelly. When Meg and Lucy had moved, she pushed the door closed with a thud. ‘Don’t want to let the cold air in.’
C.C. smiled at Kathryn, gesturing with her hands to say, ‘See? I’m not the only one.’ Kathryn quickly moved to embrace Shelly, then Meg.
‘Look!’ said C.C., holding up her gift, trying another tack. She winked at Meg and Shelly. ‘Lucy gave me a goldfish!’
Lucy fell to the floor, laughing. Kathryn exhaled in a way that only her mother would hear.
‘Oh, a goldfish is just the ticket!’ said Shelly. ‘He’ll come in handy on our road trip. He can point the way.’ Shelly shrugged off her coat, threw it over the banister. She wiggled her hand like a fish in front of Lucy, alternately swimming and pointing. Then she gave her a little poke in the belly, eliciting more giggles.
They all made their way into the kitchen, with C.C. bringing up the rear, her gift in her hands, but a heaviness in her heart, too aware for days now of ‘the last time’ they’d be doing one thing or another. The last time we’ll all walk into the kitchen together. Their last meal in this house. It made it feel like she was never coming back to Wisataukee, which she was. She just didn’t know when. But not to this house. She’d likely buy a condo or something. A condo for one. She saw herself with a cat, tending too many plants, eating baked beans out of the can, standing over the sink. She didn’t even like cats much. A little sigh escaped as she joined the others in the kitchen. How often had the five of them gathered like this, for an impromptu meal, or a trip to the museum, or shopping? All happy events. But like the cold wind circling outside, a chill pulled at the edges of the group tonight.
Meg set the bag on the counter, began to unpack. ‘Shelly’s contributing caviar, believe it or not. How old is this, Shel?’ Meg stared at the small round container, intently studying the lettering of the black and red label, an uncertain look on her face. ‘Is this Russian?’
‘Yes. It was a gift from Sergei.’
‘Who?’ asked C.C.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Meg knowingly. She turned to C.C. ‘You know, tall, dark and handsome, in a pointy kind of way? The one before the one before…the last one.’ She bobbed the caviar through the air as she counted.
Shelly shoved Meg’s hand playfully out of the air, grabbing the caviar from her. ‘I don’t know, maybe six months,’ she said, studying it. ‘A year?’ She lifted the top and sniffed, made a face. ‘How do you tell when smelly fish eggs have gone bad?’ She pushed an errant, graying bang back behind her ear. C.C. knew Shelly had stopped coloring her hair for budgetary reasons, and had told them she wanted to try long hair again. The poor thing had gone from being the most well-off of the three of them, to avoiding creditors, all by way of one disastrous, overreaching business deal.
‘Have you ever had caviar, Lucy? Little fish eggs?’ Kathryn asked. Lucy had her back against her mother’s legs and Kathryn held her with crisscrossed arms over Lucy’s chest. Lucy made a face, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue. Kathryn laughed. ‘I think we’ll pass on the caviar, thanks. What else you got in there?’
‘Bagels…cream cheese…Cheddar cheese…’ Meg lifted containers and bags out, one by one, but stopped on a large round one. ‘Some, um…’ She held it to the light, tipping it this way and that, the bright red, lumpy contents slopping back and forth inside, ‘…Jell-O. With fruit, one would hope.’ She set it on the counter and dug back into the bag. ‘Pickles, an apple…’ She paused for a fraction of a second, her hand still in the bag. ‘Some fried chicken…’ She set the container on the counter, as if it were a small wounded creature she’d been caring for. She stared at it for a few seconds, then dug back in the bag. ‘…A box of crackers…and…some leftover wild rice.’ Meg set the last items on the counter. Shelly rearranged everything.
‘My stuff’s right here,’ said C.C., pulling several containers out of the refrigerator. ‘Some leftover tuna casserole, some cheese, bread, watermelon pickles and tapioca pudding.’
‘Let’s eat!’ said Shelly, grabbing the stack of paper plates and handing one to Lucy.
‘Can Meemaw open the present first? Please?’ Lucy handed her plate back to Shelly.
‘Oh, yes!’ said C.C., lifting the box from the counter again. ‘I want to open my present!’ She undid the ribbon, handing it to Lucy, then tore off the paper, revealing a creamy yellow box with bright illustrations on the top. ‘Butterflies! What could this be?’ She set the box on the counter and lifted the lid. Inside, was a thick stack of pale yellow stationery bound up in a bright yellow silk ribbon. C.C. fingered the soft, ragged upper edge of the sheets as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
‘Look under!’ shouted Lucy.
C.C. did, finding two neat stacks of matching envelopes, also tied with yellow ribbons. In the middle were two long strips of colorful butterfly stickers.
‘Look at this envelope!’ said Lucy, pulling one from the stack. She held it in front of C.C., her small hands gripping either edge. ‘See? We already addressed it!’
C.C. read Lucy’s uneven scrawl aloud. ‘Lucy Prentiss. Thirty-one twenty Clemmons Way, Wisataukee, Iowa.’
‘And read the other, up here!’ said Lucy, pointing excitedly to the upper corner.
‘Meemaw Byrd, seven thirteen Raven Road, Fleurville, Tennessee.’
Damn. C.C. could feel her eyes welling up. Something about seeing that address printed on an envelope, especially in Lucy’s labor-intensive hand, took her aback. That address was both more than and less than home; it was the place she had landed, the place that had caught her, after a long, hard fall. She felt like her body was being stretched forward and back in time, all at once.
‘You have to send the first one to me!’ said Lucy, putting her finger on her chest. ‘And we got another box for me! Mine has dolphin stickers and it’s blue and I already wrote to you!’
C.C. kneeled, quickly gathering Lucy up in a hug, hiding her tears behind her granddaughter’s head. ‘Oh, my darlin’ girl.’ C.C. swallowed again, hearing her southern accent creep into her words. Emotion always brought it out of her. ‘I will write to you. And I can hardly wait till I get my first letter from you!’ She had to struggle to get her words out. ‘I am going t’miss you, Lovee.’
‘Will you fill me up with brave, Meemaw?’ asked Lucy softly.
‘Well,