They made funeral arrangements.
Madeleine Lockhart was scheduled for burial in a Queens cemetery on a Thursday, though the services would be held in Coney Island. That morning, the funeral home called. When Oona picked up the phone, her heart jackhammered, believing for a second it was because there’d been a mistake, that Madeleine was still alive. But they called only because Oona had forgotten to provide them with a pair of her mother’s shoes for the burial, which had to be messengered over.
“Are you ready?”
In the mirror her eyes were glossed over, somewhere else: Dale’s basement, that fateful New Year’s Eve. An indulgent dose of nostalgia, but a necessary reminder (Look at how much joy you are capable of). Any respite was allowable today, any barricade against the encroaching gloom.
“The Uber’s gonna be here in ten minutes … Mom?” Kenzie asked from her bedroom doorway.
Her gaze shifted over to her son standing in the threshold. “Come in, I’m almost ready.”
“That’s a great color on you.”
“Thanks.” One of Madeleine’s final requests was that nobody wear black to her funeral. White was fine, but brighter pigments were encouraged, so Oona had gone out and purchased a purple wool dress. Probably not as vibrant as her mother would’ve liked (Kenzie’s fuchsia suit would’ve garnered higher approval), but it was the best she could do. “Could you help me with this?” She held out the gold necklace made from clockwork parts Madeleine had given her.
After he helped her fasten it, Oona screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I can’t do it.”
“It’s the worst, but you can’t miss your mother’s funeral.”
“Not the funeral. The eulogy.” She went to her purse and took out a folded-up piece of paper. “I’ve written and rewritten the thing a dozen times, but when I think about standing up there and reading it out loud…” Though still dry-eyed, her breathing quickened, became jagged.
“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down.” He put a hand on her back. “I’ll give the eulogy for you.”
“It’s too much to ask.” But her eyes begged for a contradiction.
“It’s not too much. I got this.” He pocketed the paper.
His mercy made it easier for her to breathe, even as guilt crept in. “You’re an amazing kid. Stronger than me.”
“Naw, I’m just more mature than you this year. You have no idea how much you’ll kick ass in later leaps. Now, come on, Mom. We need to go.”
Before she died, Madeleine had given Oona a cheat sheet of extended family and friends they’d spent time with in recent years, but when the strangers began their parade before her in the funeral home that smelled of musty lavender, Oona failed to recall a single name. The mourners took her blank silence for grief and offered tentative hugs, pats on the shoulder, and versions of the same scripted condolences. So many iterations of I’m sorry and My deepest sympathies and If there’s anything I can do. She gritted her teeth and waited out the generic kindness.
Though she wouldn’t have to deliver the eulogy herself, Oona still worried that seeing Kenzie at the podium would end her drought of tears and bring about a messy emotional display. But her written words didn’t make her cry, nor did seeing other mourners weep, not even her son. She didn’t cry at all that day. Why wouldn’t the sadness overcome her? Sad would’ve been familiar, sad would’ve been easier. This was more like being mummified in an arid, airless room. All she heard was a faint ringing in her ears, and all she felt was a tingle in the tips of her fingers.
Days later, Oona was heating up Chinese leftovers on a glass plate in the microwave. When she took the plate out, it slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. The glass shattered, lo mein noodles and sesame chicken scattering. She dropped to her knees and bawled.
Skinny arms around her. Kenzie shushing her as she rocked back and forth. “No use crying over spilled lo mein.”
She paused her wailing. “Terrible joke.”
“Yeah, it is. We used to call that ‘Faye funny.’”
“We? Oh.” She frowned. “You mean you and Shivani…” A quieter, thoughtful grief came over her.
“I’m sorry, last year you were fine with me talking about—”
“No, it is fine for you to talk about them.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I was just thinking … I lost my dad, but I still had my mom right there. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like losing both of them at once.”
“It sucked a hell of a lot.” A grim nod. “But I had Madeleine. And you, even if I did take some time to come around. You both helped me through it. And I’ll help you through this.”
“But what about you? You lost your grandmother. I’m crying into Chinese food wondering how many leaps it’ll be before I get to see her again, but you…”
He looked away and cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine. I’ve still got you, right?”
“Goddamn right you do.” They got to their feet. “Now let’s clean up this mess. You grab the paper towels, and I’ll get a sponge.”
As they tidied the floor, Kenzie said, “Can I tell you something weird?”
“Always.”
“I know your whole time travel condition has fucked up your life, but sometimes I’m jealous of it. Sometimes I wish I inherited it from you, even a little bit.”
Oona paused, wet sponge in midair. “Really? Is it so you could … see them again? Shivani and Faye?”
“That’s part of it, sure. And also … I don’t know, when you’re experiencing time in order, there’s probably so much you take for granted. But when you go from year to year randomly, I bet you see things differently. Notice more. Appreciate more.”
“Yeah, you’d think so, but sometimes you’re too busy dealing with what a pain in the ass it is.” Notice more. Appreciate more. Damn, how did I end up with such a wise kid? Not that she could take too much credit—if anything, it was another reminder of the excruciating decision she’d have to make after he was born.
“No doubt it’s a pain. But you also get to look forward—or is it backward?—to these other moments in your life that are gone for the rest of us.” A wistful smile. “And once in a while you get to be young again. Youth isn’t wasted on you.”
“Oh, I’ve had my share of wasted youth. And come on, you’re only in your thirties. You’re too young to be sounding like such an old man. Though I’m still in my twenties, so technically you’re older than me. Wow, Mom was right, this does get confusing.” She switched on the faucet to rinse out the sponge. “Trust me, you have nothing to be jealous about.”
“You obviously haven’t lived through your European eighties adventure then.”
“I haven’t lived through most of the eighties yet. Wait.” Off the water went as she abruptly turned around. “What kind of European eighties adventure? Is it with Dale?”
“Shit.” Gnawing his lower lip, he shook his head. “I’m not supposed to tell you. Please don’t make me say anything else.”