chapter two

Rose’s POV

 

It’s a beautiful evening really. The sun is only just peeking above the deep blue, ocean horizon, and the cool rippling water comes creeping slowly over my feet, depositing golden sand, which gently buries my toes.

Grandma loves... loved... to watch the sunset. She would sometimes spend the whole afternoon baking a cake and chocolate chip cherry cookies, my favourites, and we would go down onto the sand with our hands full of goodies and a flask of tea, and watch the sun go down together. Some nights, we would stay out until way past my bedtime until the moon hung high above us. We would lay on a blanket, and she would sing the most hauntingly beautiful songs about make-believe worlds. I would give anything for just one more minute with her.

That is why I chose this time of day to lay her to rest. Her simple coffin was carefully lowered into the ground, next to nine past generations of our family, including my parents. I have never felt as alone as I do now. Why did she have to leave me? Surely life can not be this cruel twice, taking the last person I have on this earth who cares about me, who I love.

The wind blows my hair forward, and the long curly strands get caught in my lashes. As I turn into the breeze, I watch as the paltry few mourners walk away towards their waiting cars. I didn’t recognise a single face amongst them, and not one of them knew who I was until they arrived.

Some of the looks they gave me set me on edge, especially the man who introduced himself as Mr Antonellia. He stood on the outside for the service, almost like he was only there to see my grandma lowered into the ground, then left just without a word.

I don’t know why Granny Gwynn kept everyone at a distance. The tales I heard of her from my mother were that she had such an active social life and was surrounded by friends. ‘Growing old disgracefully’ is what mum had called it, and dad would always chuckle and shake his head at some unshared memory of her disgraceful antics.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him standing there, on the sand bank amongst the tall grass, watching me. I never let on that I have seen him. Part of me worries that if he knows, he will disappear. The other part of me is pissed that he taunts me.

Phoenix is like a ghost, living in the periphery of my life.

My heart skips a beat, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, not like that, and not today. The truth is that since my birthday 5 days ago, the day before granny Gwynn died, he has suddenly and very intrusively been on my mind.

Phoenix has been a sporadic addition to our lives ever since he and his brothers showed up at our door eight years ago. I never found out exactly what was said, but from that day on, everything changed. Grandma had been struggling to look after me and herself. I was ten years old and watching her waste away with the pain of her grief and the stress of raising me with next to no income and her already failing health. I wasn’t a difficult child, but I missed my parents and didn’t understand why they wouldn’t come back for me. I had never experienced loss until then, I was five when they died, and the permanence of death was lost on me.

At first, Phoenix would visit every couple of months. Each time I saw him filling the door frame, I would be giddy with excitement, wondering what he had bought me this time. That was his thing. Since that first day they visited, I was no longer allowed past the garden or the small patch of the beach directly at the bottom of the front steps. I don’t know how or why, but I did know that he was the reason. He tried to make it up to me with gifts of games, a tablet, a laptop, things to keep me amused and connected with the outside world. I was virtually a prisoner in my own home, but I didn’t care because it meant I got to see him.

With Phoenix around Granny Gwynn could afford her medicine, I had new clothes, the fridge was always fully stocked, and life was easier in almost every way. When I was a kid, my freedom was a small price to pay, but as I got older, I felt like I was missing out on more and more.  I pushed boundaries, had tantrums, and cried myself to sleep. All granny would say is “one day you will understand. Be patient little flower.” She never held my frustrated outbursts against me.