Drip Drop Teardrop

“Oh god,” Avery beseeched, choking on hard sobs. Her legs gave way and she slid down the wall to the floor, watching as Anonna approached her slowly, the knife gripped hard in her hand.

>She admitted it only that once and then pretended it had never happened.

Caroline had taken to sleeping longer in the mornings. The rain lashing against the windows outside were kind of a lullaby and Avery drew her aunt’s door closed, wishing she could keep her there forever. The apartment was cold, damp. Avery made herself some herbal tea and, feeling maudlin - but what was new, right - she pulled out Aunt Caroline’s photo albums and snuggled onto the sofa with a blanket. She’d chosen the album of all the photos when Caroline was younger. There were ones at college; the kind of photos that made you long for your own college experience. Somehow it was never quite as great as the photos made it seem. Caroline had had so many friends though. There were photos of her with a couple different guys over the years; all cute, sporty types. Avery’s hands trembled over the pictures of her aunt rock climbing. Biking. Rollerblading. Playing baseball. Ice skating at the Rockefeller Center. She was like an advertising campaign for LIFE.

Her chest tightened and Avery struggled to draw breath. She clutched at her t-shirt and gulped at the air, tears streaming down her face.

“Baby,” her Aunt Caroline’s soft voice called from behind her, but she couldn’t turn around. She felt her aunt’s warm body ease next to hers, her safe arms coming around her. Like a panicked dog abandoned at the side of the road, Avery pleaded with her aunt with her eyes. Caroline brushed her hair off her face. “Breathe, baby, breathe.”

She sucked in a deep lungful of air and the inhalation caught on a sob. She allowed herself to be pulled into her aunt’s chest and she soaked her with tears; an entire season’s worth of rainfall that had been weighing down the clouds for quite some time.

It’s Not Murder

it’s an Act of Faith

There was relief in admitting her grief to her Aunt Caroline. It was what Caroline needed from her, so she gave it. Somehow Avery managed to get through the funeral talks and financial discussions, holding herself together by the tips of her tremulous fingers.

It was weird… but she felt closer to her aunt than ever.

That was why, on club night, as Caroline watched Avery get ready from her perch on the sofa, her blankets all around her, the latest Charlaine Harris book in her lap, Avery unconsciously let her obsession take to the fore.

“Aunt Caroline?” She asked hesitantly as she pulled on some bangles.

“Mmmhmm?”

“Did you ever date a bad boy?”

Caroline raised her eyebrows questioningly and smiled. “Should I know something I don’t?”

Avery blushed and shook her head. “No, just hypothetical.”

“Yeah right. How bad are we talkin’?” Her New York accent thickened with the query.

“Well what do you consider a bad boy?”

Caroline gave her a look but conceded the question. “I dunno. A bum. A cheat. A drug addict. An alcoholic. Abusive. Lazy. A commitment-phobe who pretends to be otherwise. A thief. A criminal… should I go on?”

Those were all the obvious, weren’t they? Avery stiffened, turning her back on Caroline as she pulled on her stilettoes. “What about… different?”

“Different? Different how?”

She shrugged, turning back around but not really looking at her. She fiddled with her earring nervously. “Maybe a little older?”

“How much older?” Caroline snapped up, showing a little of her old energy.

Avery grinned. “Not that much older. Early twenties.”

Caroline frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What if he had money? A lot of it.”

“Depends how he came by it.”

“Commercialism.”

Caroline grunted, “Honest or not?”

“Honest.”