Crimson Death (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #25)(65)

“Um …”

“Have a think about it.” He got up, too, then. “Are you all right?”

No. Yes. No. “… Yeah.”

“Great. I’m just going to sort some things out upstairs. Let me know if you need anything, all right?”

With that, he escaped, too.

Now it was just me, and the living room, and an enormous, deafening silence.

I should probably call someone, I guessed. My first thought was Ryan or Hayley, but I hadn’t talked to them that much lately. It’s not that we had a problem with each other, we’d just kind of drifted.

Lara and I didn’t have that kind of friendship. Same with Niamh.

I could call Juliette, but she’d been so down lately, it didn’t feel fair to load her up with all my problems. Besides, she’d probably overcompensate by being super perky, or taking me out for ice cream or something, and I didn’t want perkiness, or ice cream. Or sympathy.

What did I want, then? It’s not like I could call someone and they’d wave a wand so Aunt Linda wasn’t dead anymore. And that’s the only thing that could really help right now.

Mom trotted downstairs with a USB, and plugged it into the TV.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She sat herself down next to me and grabbed the remote. “We’re going to remember some of the good times.”

That did not mean what I think it did, right? “Mom …”

“Because Aunt Linda would not want us to be here moping. We need to laugh. We need to remember how good things could be. All the lovely, lovely memories she’s given us.”

The TV flickered onto a home video of us all back in San Jose. I remembered this. Aunt Linda had come to visit when Crista was just a year old, long before Dylan was even born. They’d come during summer break, and stayed for about a week or so, and I’d had to sleep on the couch so they could have my room.

The video started in on Aunt Linda feeding baby Crista in a high chair. She looked so different. Well, Crista did, too, obviously, but I’d forgotten how thick Aunt Linda’s hair used to be. Her skin was deeply tanned, and she had hardly any wrinkles. I guessed she would’ve been in her late twenties.

“Oh my God, Roy, not now,” She laughed into the camera, shooing it away.

“Here we have the mother covered in what appears to be baby vomit and baby food,” Uncle Roy’s voice said in a terrible David Attenborough impression. “It’s her way of blending into the scenery, which is, incidentally, also covered in baby vomit and baby food, in order to sneak up on her young.”

“I’m telling you, it’s the broccoli,” Mom’s voice said. The camera swung around to face her typing something on her laptop. Probably work emails. That was the year she’d been hired as the manager of some accounting firm, back when she’d still liked that kind of role. I remembered her working at all hours of the day—and weekends—just to keep up with it all. “Ollie used to regurgitate anything with broccoli in it. Didn’t matter how well I blended it, soon as it hit his mouth, bleurgh.”

Next to me, Present Mom burst out laughing. I glanced at her without cracking a smile.

“I’m not letting Crista grow up to be a picky eater,” Aunt Linda said, raising her eyebrows and turning back to put another spoonful in Crista’s mouth. Crista promptly spat it back in her face in a raspberry, and Roy lost it, laughing so hard the camera ended up pointed at his feet.

“Yeah, well, how’d that work out for you, Lin?” Mom asked the screen. “She gave up on that as soon as she had Dylan.”

“Mom.”

“I told her, you have your resolve while they’re little, but eventually you realize it’s so worth it to cut the crusts off if it saves a three-hour tantrum every lunch!”

“Mom.”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Don’t you think, um … it’s a little soon to be watching videos?”

She looked confused, like there was no reason in the world I should think such a thing. “Well, when is it not too soon? What’s the rule on that, Oliver?”

I didn’t know, but I was pretty sure “three hours after the death” was universally too early to laugh fondly about things. “Sorry. I guess I mean, maybe I’m just not ready yet.”

Mom nodded. “That’s fine, sweetie. I’m going to watch some more, though. Because that’s what I need right now. I just need to watch some … some movies, okay?” Her smile was dangerously watery. “What is it you need right now? Is there something I can do for you?”

I needed to not be able to hear Aunt Linda’s voice like she was still fucking alive. I needed to not discuss dinner plans with Dad. I needed to do something, anything, other than force a smile and act like everything was fine. I needed to not be here.

“Would it be all right if I went to see some friends?”

Mom nodded vacantly. “Yeah, of course, sweetie. Just be home by nine, okay?”

She didn’t even ask me where I was going. She was 50,000 percent not okay. Maybe I shouldn’t be leaving. But then she pressed Play again, and Aunt Linda was tasting the baby food to prove it wasn’t that bad, and I had to go, I had to. So I wrenched my keys off the accent table and ran to my car.

I didn’t have a clue where I was driving to. I had nowhere to go. At first I drove aimlessly, zipping in and out of side streets, and then I found myself pulling over to find his address on Google maps.