Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) (5 page)

Humph. I chose to ignore that last statement. “Yeah, it would be important to her. Listen, Josh, try not to worry about where Grandma is, okay? I know she’s happy and she’s not sick anymore and that’s a good thing. It’s sad that she’s not with us, but I think she’s still here, in spirit anyway, and we have to try to be happy for her that she’s feeling better, okay?”

“Okay. I can try. Besides, if I still see her, then she’s not really gone anyway." He hugged me tight. “I love you, Mama.”

I hugged him back. “I love you too, Little Man.”

T
he next morning we got up early to leave for the memorial. It was a two-hour drive to the south Chicago suburbs, and we still had to purchase the food and set up. A new Starbucks just opened a mile from my dad’s so we stopped for a quick fix, and I got a morning bun, one of my guilty pleasures. It was full of sugar and carbs, but my mom just died and I didn’t care. Probably that excuse would get old. I just hoped that happened before my butt grew.

A sugar rush combined with Jake’s aggressive driving wasn’t the smartest decision, but I rationalized that it could possibly be my last meal. With Jake at the wheel, one never knew.

Mel and I texted during the drive, and I was grateful for the distraction.

“I cannot believe I got my damn period, again,” she texted.

“Didn’t you just have it a few weeks ago?”

“That’s my point!”

“Damn Eve,” I texted back.

“Yesterday I was at Costco and two different times kids walked by me asked their mothers what the smell was when they passed. I think it was me.”

“IT WAS NOT,” I text yelled to make a point.

“I think it was, and I was in the book section, not even close to the food samples. My vajayjay smells.”

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, and told her so, but couldn’t help but laugh. She apologized for not being able to come to the memorial and I told her I would need her more once everything was done.

“Text me when you’re on your way back to your dad’s.”

“Will do.”

###

B
y the time we got to the funeral home my brothers had already set up the video, and the pictures of Mom were playing on a repetitive loop on the large flat screen TV. I stopped to watch while Jake and the kids brought the food down to the kitchen.

I brought a box full of pictures of Ma and placed them on various tables throughout the room. Each picture brought back memories and as I set them out, and for the hundredth time held back tears. I wondered if it would ever get easier. I hoped so but just couldn’t imagine it really happening.

I placed the urn holding my mother’s remains on the center table, next to the TV. It was shocking to think that a woman, once so full of life, had been reduced to something the size of a decorative knickknack. At that moment I almost regretted not having her stuffed and sitting in that chair she hated. Then I remembered the movie
Psycho
and quickly erased the thought.

I felt a chill in the air and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I didn’t need spidey senses to know what was coming. It was Ma, making an appearance.

“Good urn choice, Ang. Simple and elegant, just like me.”

I stifled a snort as she floated near my brothers.

“Simple and elegant, my ass,” I muttered to myself.

“I heard that. “Hey, lookie here at this movie they made of me, Ang. How about that, huh?”

Ma floated next to the TV and stared at the pictures on the screen. “I sure was a looker, wasn’t I? You’re lucky you got your looks from me and not your father."

I shook my head, knowing she was trying to make me talk in front of people. “I’ll be right back. Gotta take care of some personal business,” I said to my brothers as I walked toward the door. They nodded, lost in their own conversation. I glanced at Ma and tilted my head to follow me to the bathroom.

“Listen, Ma,” I told her once we were out of hearing range. “I know what you’re up to. You’re trying to get me to look crazy in front of everyone.”

My mother gave me her,
who, me?
face but I ignored it. “Only your brothers, honey, and they already think you’re nuts, so what’s it matter?”

She had a point there, about them already thinking I was nuts, but I shook my head anyway, pretending to be mad. “Whatever, Ma.” I walked toward the bathroom.

Behind me, I heard her kvetch. “All those years I took care of you, nurtured you, helped you find your place in life, and then I die and come back, and maybe I want to have a little fun as a ghost. Play a little. You wanna deny me that?”

Oh, there it was, the Italian mother guilt thing. She was a pro at it.

“Can’t you just flicker some lights or move a few things around near them instead of making me look like a crazy person? At least this way they’ll question their sanity, and I can enjoy the fun with you.”

“Humph. That’s not a bad idea. Lemme think about that one, okay?” She giggled. “How long until this shindig starts? I’m dying to know who shows up.”

Yeah, I saw the irony in that sentence, too, and I also saw imaginary red flags floating around the bathroom. “Ma, you’re going to behave today, right?” My tone was serious.

She floated up to the ceiling and back. Man, I so badly wanted to be able to do that.

“Of course I’m going to behave, Angela. I wouldn’t think of doing anything to disrupt this day. I appreciate the planning you put into it, and I just want to be here to see my family and friends wish me a fond farewell, is all.”

I rolled my eyes. “That is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard, Ma. Do not think for one minute I’m falling for it, either. You’re totally up to something and you’d better behave.”

Ma tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at me. “Who, me? Never.”

Part of me thought this was funny, but another part was scared shitless of what she could do. In life she wasn’t always the most tactful person, and only God knew how big her
cajones
grew in death.

“Oh, pfft."

I rolled my eyes again and then the door opened and Emily walked in. “Mom, people are starting to show up. There’s some old guy asking for you. He said his name is Ray and that he’s my cousin, but he’s way old.”

Ma giggled, and I fiddled with my hair, pretending I was primping. “Okay, thanks, Em. Would you let your
cousin
Ray know I’ll be right there?”

“So he is my cousin? Wow. Can I call Taylor really quick? I need to talk to her about something.”

“Fine, but after you talk to your cousin, and please do it in another room or out back, okay? And make it quick.”

“Yup.” She walked out of the door.

“You’d think that child would be a little sad that I died,” Ma said.

“Don’t let it upset you Ma, she’s a teenager. She doesn’t care about anything but her own life.”

“You weren’t like that."

“Yes, I was. Even Dad remembered how I made Grandma’s death all about me."

“Your father. Pfft. What does he know? He doesn’t remember. You were upset the whole time you stayed with your Auntie Rita during the funeral, remember?”

I did remember, but I wasn’t upset because my grandmother died. “I was upset because Auntie Rita kept saying Grandma needed her oxygen, Ma, and that freaked me out, considering she was dead and all.”

“Well, at least you were upset about something. Emily acts like I meant nothing to her."

I felt horrible knowing my mother felt that way, especially because I didn’t think it was true. “I just think it hasn’t hit her yet, the reality, you know? Hell, Ma, with you here all of the time, it hasn’t even really hit me yet, that you’re gone." That sounded strange.

“Maybe. By the way, I spent some time with her the other day, and Lord, the words that girl uses? Madone. She must have learned them from you. You were always such a potty mouth. Lemme tell you, if I’d ever talked to your grandmother like that, or even spoke in her house that way, she would have beat me with a stick. A stick. And that friend of hers, Taylor, she’s bad news. You keep an eye on her, Angela. She’s dragging my Emily into a big old mess, that girl.”

I considered reminding her of how she swore in Italian, but the Taylor comments made me curious.

“Wait, what do you mean about Taylor? And when did you spend time with Em? You didn’t talk to her like you did with Josh, did you?”

She flicked her hand in the air. “Oh, you know about that, huh?”

“Of course I know about that, Ma. And so does Jake. He told us on the ride to Indianapolis.”

Ma gave me a worried look. “Whoops. I shoulda told him to tell you in private.”

“Ma, did you talk to Emily, too?”

“No, I didn’t talk to her. I didn’t even let her see me. That girl gets so worked up about the silliest things, I was afraid she’d pass out if I showed myself.”

“Well, thank God,” I told her.  “Why do you think I need to keep an eye on Taylor? What do you mean, she’s bad news?”

“I’m good at sensing things about people, Angela. You know that. Remember when you dated that guy with the eye? You know, the one who looked at two different people at the same time? I told you he was bad news and I was right.”

“Ma, he had amblyopia, just like Paul did."

“Yeah, but your father and I were good parents and got it fixed so he could look people in the eye with both eyes, unlike that boyfriend of yours. He was creepy, that one.”

“He wasn’t really a boyfriend, Ma and stop changing the subject. What is it about Taylor that you don’t like?”

“I don’t know just yet, but I’m keeping my eye on her and you should, too.”

“Ma, please, just stay away from her. Let me deal with my kids my way, okay?”

Ma glared at me, with both eyes, mind you, and huffed.

“And hey, can you do me a favor?”

“It depends."

“Ma.”

“Oh, fine. What?”

“Can you not appear to anyone here today, please? I don’t want some old person passing out and being taken to the hospital because they think they’ve seen your ghost.”

“Spoilsport." She shimmered away and I went back to the memorial room.

Several people had arrived and were standing around, chatting. Josh walked up to a group of my cousins, none whom he’d ever met, and handed them cups of coffee with napkins.

“Whatcha doing, little man?” I asked him.

“Just getting people coffee and stuff. I figured people will be thirsty and I could bring them coffee and stuff and maybe stop and have a cookie while I’m there. Is that okay?”

I hugged him tightly and told him how much I appreciated his help and to save me a cookie.

He pulled my ear to his mouth. “I saw Grandma, again."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t talk to me. She was over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, near the big TV. “She winked at me and then she was gone. I think she just wanted us to know she’s here.”

“Maybe. I read somewhere that sometimes, when a person dies, they come back to their funeral so that they can say goodbye to the people they love. So I wouldn’t be surprised if you did see Grandma today.”

“Yeah, I remember that from that episode of
Ghost Whisperer
when the husband dies. When I die, I want to do that too. I want to see who shows up and then I’ll go to the light.”

I couldn’t go there. “Josh, honey, you have a long, long time before you have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I know but like you always say, it’s good to have a plan.”

I did always say that, but I meant something like a plan for completing his homework, not to haunt his own funeral. This ghost stuff was
so
not my area of expertise – not that I actually had an area of expertise, but if I did, this wasn’t it.

Josh and I listened as our cousins shared memories about Ma, but it was hard to focus on what they said when she was floating next to them and commenting on their choice of memorial attire.

“Your cousin should not be wearing that dress. Lord, does she not see how big her thighs look? And it doesn’t even cover half of her legs. She looks like a tart. Tell her to go home and change into something respectable. It’s a memorial, for crying out loud. Her mother would be ashamed, wearing that to a memorial service for her aunt. And that color? You don’t want to know what I think about pink at funerals, Angela, you
do not
want to know.”

Josh walked away, giggling. I was getting good at ignoring my mother’s ghost.

I ended up sitting with my cousin Ray and listened to him spend way too much time talking about the boil on his foot. Seriously, just when I was about to pass out from sheer boredom, I noticed Ma hovering right smack in the middle of my brother Paul’s high school buddies, listening to their conversation. Of course they were talking about her. What a stinker. She was in her element, saying what she wanted, loudly, without the consequence of anyone but me, hearing. And Josh, too, who walked around with a big old smirk on his face, like he had a secret, which no one but me realized that he, of course, did. John’s friend Scott said something, and Ma laughed as she floated up to the ceiling. That must be her ghost thing. I shook my head at her, she. She gave me the stink eye and then something at the door grabbed her attention.

“Naomi, it’s so good to see you,” Ma yelled. She quickly floated over to her childhood friend, a tiny woman, no more than four feet nine, and asked her how she’d been. And then it must have sunk in, because she frowned. “Well crap, she can’t hear me. Angela, get over here. It’s Naomi. You remember Naomi, don’t you? Come talk to her. I wanna know how she is.”

I excused myself from cousin Ray and his never-ending boil story and headed over to the little woman. “Are you Naomi?” I asked, knowing full well she was since Ma about broke my eardrums screaming her name.

“Yes, and you must be Angela, Fran’s daughter. So nice to see you, dear.” She took my hand in hers. “You look so much like your mother.”

Ma snorted. “You do have my butt and my teeth, of course, but your boobs, I don’t know where you got those little things. Maybe someone on your dad’s side, but certainly not from me. Mine got girth to them; yours are like fried eggs with the yoke broke.”