He looked past the cemetery dirt on my shoes and asked, “Mom, have you thought about what you’re going to do with the house?”
I carried that question with me all week.
So when Austin returned in a new shirt and dark sunglasses, speaking with the demanding tone Chloe had encouraged, I already understood what he had become.
“Mom, we’re going away to the Bahamas for a few days.”
“That’s nice, son.”
“You’re going to watch the pets.”
Chloe followed him inside carrying three cages.
Two parakeets shrieked from one.
A white rabbit shook inside another.
The cat flattened itself against the back of an old carrier as though even it understood it had been delivered to the wrong place.
Chloe set all three beside Ernest’s memorial photograph.
No flowers.
No embrace.
Not even “How are you holding up?”
Only animals, food, and instructions.
“Change the water for the parakeets twice a day,” Chloe said, still staring at her phone.
“Don’t give the rabbit lettuce. The cat gets stressed, so don’t let him out. And make sure to clean up properly because it smells awful afterward.”
