Chapter 1
I've been standing here for the past two hours, my tear-filled eyes locked on the casket as I mourn the loss of one of my best friends—my grandma. The sound of the raindrops striking the ground echoed loudly into my ears, almost as if they were gunshots, and they were only falling down harder and louder. I have a love-and-hate relationship with rain. At any other time, I would enjoy the sound with my arms wide open, my face looking up towards the sky with a big grin as I spin around in circles outside, wetting my whole body in the rain. But today, all I could think about was the gloomy feeling it was installing in my core.
Maybe if the sun were shining brightly at me and my grandmother's casket, I would be appreciating the happy memories I have shared with my grandmother—positive thoughts—but instead, it made me realize the truth that she was gone. A lone tear ran down my face as they lowered her casket down to the depths of the earth. I blink the tear away, and another after another follows right after it rolls down my face.
This was the first death I faced, and I never knew it was this hard to say goodbye, even though I didn't get to say a proper goodbye. I had asked the mortician to let me see her body before they buried her, but he told me my grandma had requested a close casket funeral.
It doesn't make sense that even as a family member, I don't get to see her face one last time.
But I do believe that my grandma arranged everything; she always had a plan for any circumstance. Even on her death bed, she had set for me to wear her favorite color clothes, a black dress, white heels, and a sky-blue umbrella. All that was required was my presence, only me. I am the last remaining of her family blood. She didn't like my mother. She never had, so it didn't surprise me that she only wished for me to attend her funeral.
I looked over at the guy who stood with his head bowed down in a black suit—he was going to bury her. He was very close to my grandma and had been working for her for a long time, and as much as I would like to talk to him about her, I knew he wouldn't say a word. None of them were talking to me, except for her attorney, who I'd met on certain occasions when having lunch with my grandma. They were just doing their perspective job and directing me to the proper places. I somehow appreciated his silence because it gave me time to process that my grandma was about to be erased from my reality and remain a segment of my memories.
My eyes traveled back to the black rose gripped in my hand, and I slowly bent down to place it on top of the casket, bidding my farewell. I will miss you, Grandma; I hope to see you in my dreams.
Turning on my heels, I walked away from the casket and made my way to the waiting car, my face stained with the wet glow of my tears, and I stared at her attorney, who stood by the open backseat door, guiding me in. I settled inside the car, and the door slammed shut; I looked back at the grave and watched as the guy used his shuttle to bury the casket with dirt. My mind wandered back to two days ago when I received the news.
"Good morning Ms. Monae. I am contacting you regarding Mrs. Durant's passing."
My dark eyes glistened under the brightness of the phone due to my tears and roamed over the text once again, hoping I had read it wrong. With my head tightening up—almost like the feeling of a headband wrapping and squeezing my head—it was hard to concentrate on the message. The pressure was so much that it felt like my head would explode. My trembling hand held the phone tighter, trying to read it properly.
She wasn't supposed to be gone.
It was supposed to be a short vacation; she was supposed to return on time for my birthday, right on time for her to bake me my favorite cashew cake. The plan was already set months before it would even be my birthday. How could this happen? She was a healthy lady in great shape from her many years of running.
I looked over at the empty, lonely bed across from me, and a sense of sadness washed over me. This was a feeling that I had known all my life, a feeling that I had been refusing to give into. Nothing good ever happens from giving in to sadness. But I can't help it from staying within; though I can control it from the outside, it kills me slowly inside.
"I was set to inform you of what she has arranged for you in her absence. Please give me a call so we can discuss this in more detail."
I need some time to think.
Tossing the phone at the end of the bed, I turned on my side and pulled the duvet up to my neck, letting my mind wander back to my grandmother.
She was a glamorous lady, always looking out for others and trying to fix others' wrongdoings. My grandmother had devoted her life to helping those less fortunate than her. She always tried to bring smiles to their faces, including mine.
Her favorite color was black, I often ask her why her wardrobe consisted of black, and she would simply tell me, "It's my favorite color; not many people like it, which makes it unique. Did you know that the dark keeps the bad away?"
"What do you mean? I always get scared of the dark."
She chuckled and bent down to my eye level. "Where would you hide when you were younger and afraid of thunders?"
I thought about it for a few seconds before finally speaking up, "Under my blanket or in my mommy's arms when I sleep with her."
"You felt protected, no?"
"Yeah, I did," I said, smiling up, relishing the memories.
"Exactly, my darling, the dark provides comfort and protection. No one can hurt what they can not see; you can only be seen in the light."
A small smile plastered on my lips, remembering her words; she was a wise woman, and I looked up to her all my life, wanting to be so carefree yet intelligent. But, unfortunately, my grandma failed to tell me that sometimes the dark can be haunting.
The silent car came into a stop, earning my attention as I lifted my head and looked outside; the house that stood behind the attorney was the same one my godmother had shown me in her pictures. It is the same house that she often comes to for vacation. It's the same house I would see her in when me and her would Facetime. It wasn't a big house, nor a building; it was a small little family house, not too big and not too small—perfect for me and her. The door opened, and I stepped out. "She wanted you to have this." The attorney said, placing a key in front of my face. I reached my hand out, and he put the key in it.
He curtly nodded in my direction before walking back to his car. I turned around, looking at the moving car in silence as it sped away until it was no longer in sight.
I took shaky steps to the house before using the key and pushing the door in. It was exactly what I expected from my godmother, small but lavish. The only different thing is the orange-colored walls which were my favorite color. Closing the door behind me, I walked to the counter where an envelope stood.
"Happiness lies in the hands of great power. Happy birthday my angel. Enjoy your new home in Ravello. I love you."
Mornings in Ravello are bright, sunny, and peaceful. The greenery scene of trees and birds flying around brought a calming sense to my nerves. The town almost felt ghostly due to how quiet it was.
As I walked in the middle of the town's market, I was able to spot a few people here and there. They seemed to be in a rush, but they moved so hushed that you would think otherwise.
It wasn't hard for me to realize why my grandmother loved this place; after all, she's always told me how she desired a quiet place that she could take me to and enjoy our time together without my mother's presence. I've often imagined my life away from the tall, broken-down buildings and the sound of barely moveable roaring automobiles from my hometown, but at the same time, they didn't bother me. It was home.
The ache in my chest from the passing of my godmother is still grand. I miss her dearly. She was among the few people who knew of my hopes, dreams, nightmares, and my reality.
There were times that I wanted to run to her, hug her, and stay locked in her embrace but couldn't because she was on vacation. Ravello was her vacation. I remember asking her once why didn't she stay in Ravello since she loved it so much. She smiled at me and said, "Because I can't bring you with me, my baby." So here I am, but this time the roles have switched. I'm alone in Ravello, wishing that she could be with me.
My steps halted, and a wave of craving washed over my body when a mouth-watering scent hit my nose; I turned around, and my eyes landed on a small bakery shop. My lips moved as the shop's name rolled off my tongue "Pasticceria Ravello." It was a small bakery shop in the middle of two buildings; I would have missed it if it wasn't for its delicious smell.
I made my way towards the shop, and a small bell rang as I pushed the door open, alerting everyone inside that someone had entered.
I scanned the shop and noticed a man sitting in the far right corner. In front of him set a black mug and a white powdery sprinkled pastry. I wasn't too familiar with Italian dishes, and though my grandmother would often bring me snacks and pastries to try, my mother wouldn't let me eat them. She never let me meet Nonna alone.
I looked up at the menu, and just my bad luck, there were no pictures, and my Italian wasn't too good either. I pursed my lips, trying to understand the words; I should know about these dishes. My grandma taught me a few words. I remember when I had held a whole conversation with her in Italian.
"I would recommend the Bomboloni." I was startled as the person spoke behind me in a deep voice with a strong Italian accent. Turning around with a smile plastered on my face, I responded, "Thank you. I'm not too familiar with the foods." His bright green eyes look into mine intensely, as if he was trying to read and understand me.
"You don't speak the language, yet you're moving here?" He stated and chuckled, causing me to blush.
"Are you aware of the town you're in? Ravello isn't really known as a tourist place for foreigners." He pointed behind me, and that's when I realized I was blocking the napkin area, that's what he wanted to get, huh stupid me.
I quickly moved out of his way, and he reached for the napkins and wiped his hand. "Sorry, and I'm here for my nonna funeral." He stood before me, wiping his hands clean before tossing the napkin into the trash can.
"My name is Ave. What's yours?" I asked, extending my hand out to him for a shake. He looked surprised, but soon a smile washed his features, and he enveloped my hand in his warm ones.
"Apollo... Aren't you afraid to be here? So far away from home." He watches me curiously, his head slightly tilted to the side as if interested.
I had to cry and beg my mom to let me come here in Ravello without her. For some reason, she and my grandma don't like each other. She never wants me to meet up with Grandma without her presence. That's why nonna rented a house back home to be closer to me. The attorney- Mr. Luis, had to do a lot of reassurance that I would land here safely and would return back home in five day's without a scratch.
"Not really; this is my grandma's hometown. Knowing the type of person she was, I feel safe here. Plus, I have a thrill for the unknown, which is also why I love scary movies so much." Yeah, I did not need to blabber on to him like that, but I guess that's what happens when you don't talk to a lot of outsiders. When you get the chance, you just can't stop talking.
He smiled before he started laughing, a very loud fit of laughter. Then, after some time, he stopped and ran his hand through his dark curly hair, "A thrill, you say?"
"How about I give you my number, you eat, and tomorrow I'll show you around your grandmother's town? Show you what Ravello has to offer and why your grandma loved it so much?"
"Oh yes, sure," I exchanged numbers with him, and just like that, he was out of the bakery shop, and I was left alone to think about the encounter.
