Reva, Becca and Neve: Corner Booth
First the friends drove off. Then the cousins and nieces and nephews. The funeral was over. There was no cemetery service. Jules was cremated. Reva had spoken with him about the idea long ago. Jules was insistent, saying “The Earth’s resources can’t hold all of us while we’re alive, why would we take up more space after death?”
Reva, Becca, Neve and Seamus were given Jules’ ashes in small silver urns. Reva’s mind went to the checklist of details she needed to follow up on with the lawyer and the accountant, over the next month or so. But as Reva slowly decompressed, there wasn’t really much left for her to do. Jules’ room at Brookhaven was cleared out and all the stuff was moved to a storage unit. The housing rental agreement was through July. Another seven months.
During a daydream, Reva thought about moving out west permanently. She was tired of Philly. She longed to be closer to her daughters again. Maybe not retiring, but choosing a new life, where she wasn’t working so hard all the time. Maybe starting a foundation for educators who want to go into school administration but want to start new schools, rather than try and transform existing institutions. Or teaching teachers in a graduate program. A life she might enjoy living, day to day, rather than trying to fix everything all the time and enjoy moments here and there.
Like the quiet of the night sky after the last of the bombs have exploded, Reva could sense the sonic landscape around her changing. Before Neve and Becca went back to their lives, Reva took them out for a rare Monday brunch. They drove to a diner. Mostly empty booths, after the morning commuters came in to grab scones and coffees. The waitress was probably in her mid-60s. She looked exhausted as she smiled and waved her hand at the empty booths. “Wherever you like,” she said and went back into the kitchen.
Reva led her daughters over to a corner booth, by the window and sat down. A few minutes later, Reva ordered an omelet with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes, choosing salad over the roasted potatoes, and rye toast. Becca chose the blueberry pancakes and plant-based sausage links. Neve ended up with a plate of huevos rancheros, with an extra tortilla and extra avocado.
Becca was in a kind of paralytic state, floating through the days leading up to the funeral and the days afterward. Marisol urged her to keep studying. Final exams were a week away. Becca was sent updates from classmates over the last two weeks, but she hadn’t checked her email in four days. Neve was expectedly somber, but was also ready to return to her paralegal job and James. Reva stared out the window, sipping her watery coffee as they waited for the food to arrive.
Becca offered both Reva and Neve a stress-ease gummy. Neve declined, instead chewing a piece of Nicorette as they waited. Reva took one and chewed it thoughtfully. “So if I eat these I won’t feel stress anymore? That sounds good,” she said to Becca.
Becca sarcastically confirmed, “No stress at all.”
The plates arrived and Reva heard her stomach grumble with anticipation.
“Was that you, Mom?” Neve asked.
“Guess I’m pretty hungry,” Reva replied.
Becca informed them that sun-dried tomatoes were much healthier than regular tomatoes. The lycopene content was especially high. Antioxidants were critical to brain health, Becca explained.
Reva replied, “Thank you for the info, but I’m just trying to enjoy this delicious plate of eggs.”
Neve laughed, “Why don’t you tell me about my huevos instead, sister?”
Becca replied, “Your eggs are getting old. If you and James are going to have a baby, you have about 10 good years left.”
Neve snorted, “Who said anything about a baby? You go have a baby. Or better yet, don’t have a baby. You’re still too much of a baby to have a baby. We can’t have babies having babies.”
Reva told them both to eat their breakfast.
Finally, they were finished eating. Reva got a refill of the bad coffee. Neve popped in another piece of Nicorette.
“This part is going to be so hard,” Becca said, staring out the window.
“You mean the grieving?” Reva asked her daughter.
“Yes,” Becca replied. “I’m not ready to grieve. I can’t fucking grieve. I have to pass these stupid finals first. Then I have to plan my schedule for the spring.”
Neve sighed. “Is anyone ever ready to grieve? I don’t think I am. I loved Grandpa. I loved knowing he was here. I loved all of us getting together, even though we all have our separate lives. Grandpa made it easier,” Neve finished.
“I saw him all the time out here. He was so alive a month ago, even if his brain was changing. Now his body is gone. In that little silver can. I still feel him, though…” Becca trailed off. She didn’t want to speak about sensing his presence. Also, she’d only sensed him one time since the funeral, and only for a moment.
Reva put her arm around Becca, next to her in the booth. “Maybe I’ll move out here next summer, after the rental lease is up.” Reva wasn’t sure what she’d just said. Was she seriously considering this?
“Are you serious, Mom?” Becca asked, as Neve’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I don’t know. It’s a thought,” Reva replied.
They left the diner with a lingering sense of emptiness.
The next morning, Neve flew back to Tucson. Becca dropped her off at the airport and they gave each other a long, genuine embrace for the first time in years. They both seemed to recognize they needed each other now. Maybe some of the old sibling issues would subside.
An hour later, Becca and Reva stood in the driveway. Becca was about to get in her Civic. She knew the drive back to Claremont meant she needed a podcast. She queued up an interview on the neuroscience of grief. Soon, she’d be studying for final exams and writing essays.
There were two weeks left until winter break and then another new year.
“After finals, you want me to join you in Philly? Be with you for the holidays?” Becca asked Reva.
Reva was touched. “Yes, that would be wonderful,” she replied.
“Alright, see you in a few weeks then. Love you, Mom. Thanks for holding us all together.” Becca held her arms out for one last hug.
“Thank you for holding us all together,” Reva replied, embracing her daughter.