A hollow expression filtered across Lily’s face, one I knew well. The emotions attached to that memory were being burned out of her as she remembered them. Because he was gone now, she wasn’t allowed to hate him for that night anymore. Just another way death leaves its mark on survivors.
Her father’s comments pointed to the truth that my father had asked for money to help sustain my mother’s life and to the reason Mr. Patel and the others from Sorte Juntos had said no—because they knew and respected my mother’s wishes better than my father ever had.
“Which one was your mom?” Lily asked. “The one with blue hair or the other?”
“Why?”
“That picture you took, that was from the basement. I was the one who put it on the table at the memorial. He had a whole line of them up on the wall above his workbench down there. I kept them when I cleaned up. I could bring them. Next time.”
I wanted to see the lot of them, of course, but her offer felt more like the start of a bargaining session than generosity, and I was in no mood to make a deal, nor was I ready to make a date for “next time.”
“Do you often come here?” I asked.
Lily nodded and looked down at the bouquet she’d left next to the flashlight. “Mom refuses to do anything with his ashes”—she choked a bit on the word but recovered quickly. “There’s no other place to visit.”
I had one of those—a place to visit—but I’d never been to it. I hadn’t even gone to the graveside part of Mum’s service. It wasn’t like standing on a patch of grass by a granite slab of rock was going to provide some great balm to my soul.
Lily stood and meticulously balanced the bouquet up against the tree. She next opened the beer and said, “He had cases of this stuff imported from India. Kalyani Black Label. He said when he could find it in the UK it never tasted the same as the stuff he ordered direct.”
She carefully took a sip, then winced at the taste. “Three cases left in his basement. Thought he wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” It was an odd thing to say before pouring the liquid out slowly over the ground until all that was left was a puddle of foam.
When she was done, she came to sit next to me, facing the tree and the mess she’d made. “This is better than interned ashes anyway,” she said. “If his spirit’s anywhere, it’s probably here.”
I didn’t believe in spirits, but if they existed, I could believe one’s spirit would more likely stay where its blood had spilled than with a pile of ashes in a ceramic vase.
“I still hate her for it, my mom. She keeps his ashes in an urn in her room, hoarding them for herself, like she keeps everything else of his. She hasn’t even taken his clothes to charity yet. Hasn’t packed them up.”
“My father was like that too.”
“But you found the coin?”
“Mum gave that to me before. But I have a few other things of hers. I sneaked in when he was out and took some.”
“Weren’t you afraid he’d notice?” she asked, turning to look at me.
“He did.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to burn everything else that he had of hers and then hit me when I tried to stop him.” There was no reason not to tell her. It’s not like she hadn’t seen evidence of his violence on my face. Still, I surprised myself with the confession.
“Did he hit you a lot?”
“Twice.”
“Then just that time and . . . the night he was caught?”
I nodded, then watched in my periphery as she tried to formulate her next question. I knew she probably wanted to know what had happened that night, and I could have told her the same lies I’d told the police in rigorous detail, but in the end I decided to change the subject entirely.
“I’m sorry he killed your dad.”
Lily didn’t respond for so long, I started to contemplate how best to leave the clearing without her. I even picked up my coin from the ground and stuffed it back in my pocket. That broke her silent spell, but she left her coin in the dirt.
“Do you know why he did it?”
“Does it matter?” We both stared at the beer foam floating above the dirt.
“Yes?”
“Because he’s a monster. A violent, angry bastard who doesn’t deserve his next breath, much less the luxuries he’s getting in a jail cell.”
Lily gave in to a wicked grin. It faded quickly, but it made me like her more. “Do you really believe that?”
I nodded, and she slid her arm around mine, scooting closer. It was an odd gesture, like it was supposed to mean something. I supposed the fact that we were both facing the flowers and beer foam was designed to be fraught with meaning as well. But I didn’t feel it.
“Your statement to police. You’re not going to take it back because he’s your dad or anything, yeah?”