Love Is Like Dead Ashes

Right as they wheeled Mom into the cremator, Dad's phone rang.

From the sound of the voice it was a woman, quite young.

A young woman's voice came through. "Frank, is that bitch toasted yet? I've already moved my stuff in."

Dad couldn't hide his excitement.

He told me, "Jessica, Stephanie's moving in. You deal with your mom's ashes. I need to get home and cook for Stephanie."

I thought to myself, "Look, Mom, the man you bent over backwards for all your life can't even be bothered to collect your ashes. But I will."

Mom, you were the only light I had. And yet, you betrayed me.

——

The hospital called with my biopsy results.

I had advanced lung cancer. They wanted me to start chemo, but I refused.

The doctor was shocked. "You're only twenty-seven, and with the right treatment, you could live longer. If you give up now, you might only have three months..."

I thought, "Three months? That's alright. Soon, I'll be with Mom. She was so gentle and kind. I bet she must be suffering in the next world."

I have to join her. Otherwise, she would just worry about my dad, Frank Quinn up here.

Actually, Mom, Matilda Quinn, was supposed to have been cremated two days ago. But Frank had the nerve to call me and say, "Jessica, I can't afford your mom's cremation. How about that? I'll just leave her at the crematorium. Maybe they'll take pity and do it for free."

That was how I found out Mom was dead.

Frank claimed she died from carbon monoxide poisoning while cooking, nearly taking him with her.

Frank even called my mom and me jinxes, his bad luck.

I was at the crematorium waiting by eight o'clock the next morning.

Frank showed up at noon, looking rushed and checking his watch non-stop.

"Jessica, is your mom cremated yet? I need a quick look then I've got to run," Frank said.

"What are you, the president? Can't spare a couple of hours for your wife's cremation?" I shot back.

The crematorium staff came over, clearly annoyed. "Who's paying? We're charging a storage fee too."

Frank just touched his eyes and nose, saying nothing. I gave him a side-eye and said, "I'll pay."

Thirty minutes into the cremation, Frank's phone rang.

It was the woman from yesterday. "Darling, I moved my stuff over today. Is that bitch toasted yet?"

Frank covered the phone with his hand, trying to muffle the sound. "You're here? I'll be right back."

He hung up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Jessica, Stephanie's coming to our place. I need to go home and cook for her," he told me.

Frank walked off, phone in hand, not even waiting to glance at my mom's ashes.

I thought, "Look, Mom, the man you bent over backwards for all your life can't even be bothered to collect your ashes."

I'd prepared a white urn for her.

Mom always wore white. She never touched another color.

She said she liked white because it stood for purity and kindness. And she believed if she wore white, Frank might look her way more often.

Everything Mom did was for Frank.

Anyway, I always hoped Frank could show Mom some affection, because it made her smile at me, and her smile was the warmest.

Even when Mom was upset and took it out on me, I couldn't hold it against her because I felt sorry for her.

Frank didn't love Mom, and she had a tough time with it.