Girl Act (28 page)

I felt filled with emotions, and ready to honor my aunt—because she had truly had a hand in raising me—in a real, profound way, with one-of-a-kind experiences.

“Let’s,” she said.

I raced with my empty stomach back through the cow pasture and into the potter’s cabin, and I grabbed the smashed box of ashes. My mother was standing by her front door, I raced back to her. Fortunately Santiago was working in the coffee bean fields, which was perfect timing, because the ceremony needed to be just with us.

My mother passed me a letter that Aunt Helen had sent her a few months before.

“This is what she wanted read as part of the ceremony,” she said softly.

“You read it, while I make a loop around your house with her ashes” I said, because I was too scared to read it.

My mother read the following:
“Here my ashes shall blend with the earth, the wind and the air. May those whom I’ve loved, know that I love them forever and ever. And that love in a memory can fill up the moments. Cherish and forget me not.”
Over and over she read it, until I had completed the circle and we were once again in front of my mother’s front door.

We went inside and ate the meal that she had saved for me, and I felt so un-angry, so un-hurt, and so un-sad. That night, we played checkers, Old Maid and tic-tac-toe, something I hadn’t done since I was a kid and it was so much fun.

All Sunday, my mother and I just hung out, talking and eating. She even taught me how to pick coffee beans, and how to throw clay on the potter’s wheel. I felt so glad that I had come to meet her again, and so relieved that I had Tristan, Gabriel, my father, Shadow, and Twist to be with stateside.

On Monday morning, I flew back to the United States. Wow! I was in the JFK airport once again, and as I was getting off the plane, my cell phone rang. Hurray, I was mobile. I could surf the web again, and Google for anything.

“I’m going on a date,” my father’s voice said.

“What?” I asked.

“Seems there are a number of random women seeking me out, accidentally, and nonchalantly.”

“Oh,” I said. Madge the matchmaker hadn’t wasted a second.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?” I sheepishly asked.

But my father didn’t answer. Ha ha, he knew I wasn’t done trying to get him a happily-ever-after. Blame it on the movies, it’s not my fault—some of my favorite films are the ones that end happily-ever-after.

Tristan was waiting outside the terminal, in front of his Land Rover, wearing dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and work boots. Can it get any better? No, it can’t! I’d come full circle at last. And now it was my
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
moment, and I took it. He kissed me, and when our lips parted, I looked into his dark brown eyes and I asked, “Did I tell you how blissfully happy and in love with you, I am?” Okay, so in my own words—but I said it more or less like Audrey Hepburn had as Holly Golightly in the movie, and I meant it.

THE END

As in my happily-ever-after!

Kristina Shook was born in New York City into a wonderful, struggling, bohemian art community. Photographed 1-18 as a documentary by her mother. A full-scholarship graduate of Sarah Lawrence College (Bronxville, New York). Master’s degree in Screenwriting from the American Film Institute (Los Angeles). She dwells in LA & NYC. *This is her 2nd novel, (first novel Donna Day sits on a shelf). 
Look out for her 3rd novel Ava Anderson: Case of the Strippers (mystery series).
www.kristinashook.com

“Some of us aren’t meant to belong. Some of us have to turn the world upside down and shake the hell out of it until we make our own place in it.”

— Elizabeth Lowell,
Remember Summer

Author photo by photographer Alex Chemerisov

Book Cover Designer Christine K

eBook conversion by
ebookadaptations.com

Heartfelt thanks to my editor

Huge thanks to actress Jennifer Emmaline for proof reading