—
Owen would remember the sound of the phone ringing more than anything. It wouldn’t stop. Sometimes it felt like Luna was the only person who wasn’t calling that house. Vera always answered the phone. Owen could hear all her conversations. His mom wouldn’t shut up about how peaceful Tom looked. Owen was thinking, You know who looks peaceful right now? You, Mom.
At breakfast, he asked his mother if there would be an autopsy.
“Why on earth would they do that?” Vera asked.
“I don’t know,” Owen said.
“He had cancer,” Vera said. Firmly.
The phone rang. Vera retrieved it and disappeared into the living room to take the call.
“The doctor said he had six months,” Owen said to his brother.
“Dude, you don’t get a countdown clock with a prognosis,” Griff snapped.
“Fuck off, Griff. I’m just asking a question. Remember, I’m the one stuck here.”
“Sorry,” Griff said, genuinely contrite. He knew the summer had to have been hard on Owen. “I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in…months?”
“You do look like shit,” Owen said as a way of accepting the apology.
* * *
—
The funeral arrangements were set for Monday, just two days after Tom died. Noting the speediness of the arrangements, Casey asked Luna if the Manns were secret Jews.
Luna rented a car and drove on her own to Boston, made it just in time for the church service. She didn’t even see Owen or Griff until after the service was over. Along with Casey and Mason, Luna returned to the Mann house, where Vera was hosting a small gathering with deli plates and, more important, an abundance of alcohol. The younger crowd hid out in Griff’s childhood bedroom. Luna kept checking the clock. She couldn’t drink, because she had to drive home and have a procedure the next morning. She was trying to figure out the earliest socially acceptable exit.
Luna was being distant, a bit odd. Both brothers noticed. Owen’s generous opinion was that family gatherings were challenging for Luna. That she’d learned it was safer to be alone. She didn’t know how to behave in a normal family. When Luna was late for the service, Griff wondered if she was sending him a subconscious message that she wanted to break up. He wondered if she was waiting for a socially acceptable time to do so. But then later, when the group was hanging out in his room, she held his hand and asked how he was doing, and everything seemed as normal as it could be. He relaxed briefly. Griff told himself that he was being paranoid.
An hour later, Luna said she had to go. It was late. Griff didn’t realize she was driving back that night. He was so stunned that she was leaving, he just nodded and said, “Okay.”
“Walk her to her car,” Mason said.
Mason was drunk by then, but he had a few stubborn life rules. Walking a woman to her car or her home when it was dark out, even if that woman could probably manage self-defense better than he could, was one of them. He was a chivalrous feminist, Casey would tell people. It was one of his best qualities, she thought.
“I’m fine,” Luna said.
“I’ll walk you,” Mason said, stumbling to his feet.
“Mason, sit down,” Griff said.
Mason’s ungainly dismount back to the floor broke the tension. Luna said her goodbyes to Owen, Casey, and Mason. Griff walked her out.
After they left, Owen said, “Something’s weird.”
“Yeah,” Mason said. “Everything changes when your parents die. It’s a lot to process, man. You gotta give yourself time.”
Casey was disappointed in herself for not monitoring Mason’s drinking better. The next morning was going to be a shit show.
“I was talking about Luna,” Owen said. “She was weird today, right?”
“Yeah. She’s been a little strange lately. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Casey said.
Mason leaned closer to Owen and tried to whisper, but he seemed to have forgotten how whispering worked. He was also putting an emphasis on random words, like he drew them out of a hat.
“I overheard a really weird conversation,” Mason said. “Luna’s conversation. Well, only one side. Luna’s side. A phone call.”
“Mason,” Casey said, as a warning.
“What did she say?” Owen asked.
“I don’t remember…exactly.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Casey said.
“I do know!” Mason said. He took some time to think about it. Then he became distracted by the carpet. He hadn’t seen a proper shag rug in a while. Mason’s brain finally circled back to Luna. “I think Luna is donating an organ. Or trying to donate an organ and they won’t let her. That happens, right?”
Casey rolled her eyes and breathed very loudly.
“Let’s get you some dinner,” Owen said to Mason.
As Owen guided Mason down the stairs, Mason asked, “Did Luna tell you she was donating an organ?”
By midnight, all the guests were gone, the catering staff had cleaned up and cleared out, and Vera was asleep in bed. Casey and Mason were in the guest room. Owen and Griff sat outside on the back deck. Griff had forgotten how quiet it could be away from the constant noise of New York City.
Owen kept thinking about the missing pills and Vera’s part in Tom’s slightly premature death. You couldn’t say he was upset or angry. But he did want to know if his theory was sane or not.
“Do you think Mom was taking some of Dad’s pain pills?” Owen asked.
“No. Weird question,” Griff said.
“Why?”
“She can’t take opioids. They make her vomit. We only need to worry about her drinking.”
“How do you know that?” asked Owen.
“Remember when she had kidney stones? Maybe you don’t. You might have just left for college. Dad told me about it. It was a nightmare for him. She was in extreme pain. When she took the pain meds, she started vomiting. He had to call an ambulance.”
“Huh,” Owen said.
He had no knowledge of that incident.
“Why are you asking about that?” Griff asked.
“I think maybe Mom killed Dad,” Owen said. Casually.
October 15, 2019