Where the Hell is nepenthe

[nepenthe]

effex said I need to cut long posts. I’m living with my aunt in Sun City, AZ. No, I’m not kidding. Srsly. Life can take drastic, wonderful and horrible changes in a month, and it’s been . . . one of those months. A month ago I came to visit my grandparents and aunt in AZ with The Twin and Baby Natalie. A month ago, I told my aunt about how I was sort of running out of options with my life, how The Twin and Her Husband wanted me to move in with them. That I didn’t want to end up a live-in babysitter, as much as I love Baby Natalie. That I didn’t have any plans on becoming The Twin’s Sidekick-for-Life, but wasn’t sure if there was anything else out there for me. How I had no job, therefore no way of moving to another city outside of San Diego and how sick I was of its cost of living. Suddenly, I found myself offered a room with my aunt and the chance to get employment out in AZ. I’d forgotten there are places in the universe where instead of paying $2000 a month for a tiny, cramped 2 bedroom apartment, you can get one for $400 a month while still having a job that’s willing to pay you $9/hr, the same as you would in thee city that demands $2000 for rent except you can afford to survive on that money. I shouldn’t have forgotten that my mom’s side of the family is as generous and loving as we all are driven to be our best. A week and a half after that, on a night I planned to go to my writer’s meet-up and get drunk for my birthday, I hear that my grandma on my dad’s side passed away. She’d been wanting to call quits on life, and she got her wish. Instead of celebratory drinking, I got sad-drunk. It’s not fun when your grandmother has passed away and you’ve got a main character whose grandmother has just passed away and everyone’s looking at you with sad-eyes of “well that just sucks”. So I planned to move, got everything in order with my aunt. Told my elder sister (to be known as “The Favorite” hereafter) what was happening, and in a shocking move she bought me plane tickets to Iowa for Christmas. Must work on getting her an equally awesome gift. Told The Twin about the move. She was not . . . not happy, but not upset. I couldn’t tell her all my reasons without offence, since she is part of the reason. Well. I love my niece, but I told The Twin back when she’d decided she wanted to get pregnant that, while she wanted to have a child and I would do as I could to help her, I did not want to have a child. Was not ready to have a child. Knew that if anything happened to The Twin and Her Husband, it’d be me to take care of Baby Natalie and I’d do it because I wouldn’t be able to not do it, but I suspect that The Twin anticipated I’d be around to be her helper in this, the raising of her child. After all, I’d been her helper in San Diego, caring for her home, her things, her cat, while she was working. And when she had her baby, she anticipated that I’d continue to be her helper with childcare while she went on working. Her Husband also anticipated this, as I think The Twin led him to think it would be so. The Twin mentioned how happy he was whenever I came over because he knew she would be in a good mood—because I know how to actually help her; how The Twin expects to be helped around the house (and it’s the same way I expect to be helped as well). Mid-month, I said good-bye to the writers, whom I will miss. Started packing—finished my last days of work with my temp agency. Packed. My dad’s common law wife (to be known as The Forever Girlfriend, hereafter) called me about Grandma’s funeral. There will another memorial for her sometime in the spring, when she’ll be moved to Iowa to be beside Grandpa. The Forever Girlfriend let me know that we’d go through Grandma’s lock box at the bank to see if there was any jewelry any of us wanted. Well, I didn’t feel particularly needy—back when Grandma moved out from her house into the assisted living facility, she gave me her old Swinger sewing machine (the old kind that requires the coordination of patting your head and rubbing your tummy with its foot pedal) and I thought that was the neatest thing ever. The Twin got Grandpa’s writing desk. Well, The Forever Girlfriend thought I might like to have Grandma’s writing desk, and of course I said yes, even though I have no idea how I’m supposed to get it from Nebraska to Arizona. But that was quite nice, and I said that if she has some bookshelves, I’d take those too as a nice reminder. Junior, my mechanic in San Diego, got my car all fixed. It took days, which he felt very bad about. Bad enough to buy me lunch, a slice of cheesecake and only charged me an hour of labor. Very decent man. His father mention Junior was single, and I tell you, if the guy were 20 years younger and 50 lbs lighter (sorry, but he’s a big, big guy and I’m tiny), and a promise from him to never, ever call me ‘sweetie’ again, and I’d have been interested. The Twin came over with Baby Natalie to help me pack up the U-Haul. I felt a little miffed that Her Husband wouldn’t watch Baby Natalie while The Twin was helping me move furniture, or come over to help himself. But whatever—I didn’t expect him to help us anyway. After all, he was going to Lows to pick up stuff. He couldn’t possibly watch the baby, of course. The big, massive downside to coming to stay with my aunt in Arizona is that the lease on the house they’re renting specifically states No Pets. Which means I couldn’t bring Bunny. Poor Bunny! The Twin was awesome enough to agree to take care of Bunny for a month or two, until I have a job (which I need first) then an apartment that allows pets, then a weekend off from the job where I can go and pick up my cat (and her cat bed, my bike, and rice maker which are the things I missed in the chaos of Vomit Sound and I moving out at almost the same time). I spent my pre-drive night, the last living over in San Diego, at The Twin’s place, crashing downstairs. Bunny was terrified, but only until the duck The Twin was cooking came out of the oven. Then she came out of hiding (she’d been in the crawl space under the whirlpool) and she and Ichabod had a fantastic time, eating duck liver and running. And running. And running. I’m not sure she slept that night, she was so excited about all the space and her old friend, Ichabod, to play with. As I left the next day, The Twin began to taunt me that Bunny liked her house best, that Bunny liked her NEW mum’ma better than her old mum’ma. Must find job. Must have apartment that’s not too small, so Bunny will still love me best. The trip over to Arizona was pleasantly uneventful. Marvelously uneventful. Unloading was a breeze, except Grandpa (on my mother’s side, that is) took it upon himself to help me unload my U-Haul and he is just not flexible enough to be doing heavy lifting. I spent the rest of my day organizing all my things—I’ve got mad unpacking skillz, let me tell you. I was done before the end of the afternoon! Ran errands with my aunt. My uncle flew in the next morning and we picked him up from the airport. Put up blinds. By mid-afternoon yesterday, I had a headache so while they went to the pool, I took some Advil and laid down, only to be thwarted by a call from my father. It was a strange sort of call, since I’d called him just the day before to let him know I arrived safe and sound. At first I thought he was calling to tell me another inheritance horror story—back when Grandma was moving to the assisted living home, when I scored the sewing machine, one of my dad’s brothers and his sister all but cleared out her home. His sister had rented a moving van and all but cleared out the furniture, taking the old, hand-carved bedroom set (vanity, dresser, queen sized bed) that was, last I heard from Grandma’s lips, supposed to go to the first grandchild to get married (that would be The Twin, but obviously she won’t be getting it now). All my dad really wanted was Grandpa’s old phone, the wooden kind you had to crank, for sentimental reasons. My stupid cousin took it. That no one waited to consult with one another—let’s just say my sisters and I looked at each other and decided then and there we sure as hell weren’t doing that. Well, the new story dad was telling started off similar—the aunt who’d rented the U-Haul to clear out Grandma’s house—went to look at what was in the lockbox (intending to clean it out, in my opinion but who knows). You see, there are several items in that box, one of which was The Prize. Grandma never told a single soul who would be getting The Prize. Notta one. Dad, who is the executor of Grandma’s will, didn’t even know. Dad asked me to guess who got The Prize. This sounding like one of the Horror Stories and from what he was inferring, I could guess it wasn’t that particular aunt who’d gone to the box, Grandma’s only daughter. So I thought of who would be the freaking WORST woman of the family to receive The Prize, the daughter-in-law Grandma had already bought a house for and paid her granddaughter’s dance school tuition for and was ALWAYS giving money to (which is just totally unfair to her other three children). I said, “Not The Deadbeats,” knowing full well they’d pawn it to make bail and pay for lawyers for my uncle and cousin who both got arrested—the first for drunk driving and the other for kiddy porn (I’m related to these people?! Srsly???). Dad said, “It was very clearly labeled, no question about it—it’s yours.” To which I had a small heart-attack. We’re talking value of a small house. I had no idea why. She never said a word to me about it; I didn’t even know the thing existed until Dad called and told me it was mine. What gets to me is now I can’t even thank her; can’t send a letter, another to add to the collection she meticulously prized and read aloud at Christmases and Thanksgivings. The ones she kept close at hand in the hospital for company, what with her family spread out over the country, living their lives. Dad told The Twin and she called to tease me about it and revealed what was the likely cause; I’m my grandma’s namesake. I don’t think about it often, but there it is. I’m the one with the exact same initials, the replica. My dad was so proud it had been me she chose. The Twin told him it’d been a smart move to name the surprise baby, the one no one was expecting, the one they hadn’t prepared a name or bed for after Grandma. After all, The Favorite was named after Dad, and The Twin was named after my mother’s cousin who’d been killed in a car accident. Mom hadn’t known she was carrying twins until she’d given birth to The Twin and found that, strangely, she was still in labor, and Surprise! I showed up, extra small and with a heart murmur to end all heart murmurs. I’ve always liked that I was the unexpected one; took everyone by surprise, by storm, unprepared. Then again, twins run on my mom’s side, from Grandpa’s family (there are three more sets among my second cousins). It was always a possibility. But I’m reminiscing. This Thanksgiving was very nice, with tons of Grandpa’s cousins and their children and grandchildren. I won the card game we played—golf. The whole family loves to play it to the point where no one even asks if anyone wants to play, just how many. I love it here. I really, really do. Don’t know why. I went to bed at one last night and woke up refreshed at seven, just as I have always done out here with my mother’s family close at hand. I feel . . . I feel like me again. Is that a strange thing to say? Maybe this is temporary, this feeling of being awake. This shedding of mornings where I don’t want to pull myself from bed, where I’ve slept for a solid 12 hours. How long will the alertness last? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the cleanliness. Maybe it’s the space I have in this big room, uncluttered by my stuff. I actually do like being organized, I swear I do..