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was getting into the bath, slipped, and –
that was it.” She squeezed Ryan’s upper arms, and then took a step
back, leaning on the edge of her desk.
    Derek, who had been sitting on a brown,
leather camelback sofa perpendicular to Lucy’s desk, stood up, his
signature martini glass in hand. “I’m sorry about your mother. She
and I didn’t always get on, but I liked her.”
    Ryan nodded, knowing that was about as much
as Derek was capable of. She wondered if his apathy was a result of
his alcoholism, or if he had become an alcoholic out of apathy. Chicken or the egg? Ryan thought.
    “So she drowned?” Ryan didn’t want to be
morbid, but in spite of their falling out, how the woman who raised
her died seemed to warrant more detail than simply she
fell .
    Lucy walked back around her desk and sat
down. “Yes. She slipped getting into the bath, struck her head, and
then drowned while unconscious.” Before Ryan could respond, Lucy
continued. “I’ve asked Carol to help you with something to wear.
There will be a viewing tomorrow night, and the services are
scheduled for Wednesday.” Lucy turned and began thumbing through
her appointment calendar. “I’ve ordered flowers from the family,
and took the liberty of ordering an arrangement from you.”
    Ryan felt tears welling up. Her chest
suddenly felt very tight, and the air in the library seemed thick.
The idea of her mother drowning to death in two feet of bath water
brought bile to the back of Ryan’s throat. She wanted to be annoyed
with Lucy over the attention she was paying to mundane details, but
Ryan couldn’t muster the energy.
    Lucy had always taken liberties with people
under the guise of being helpful. Lucy seemed to be perpetually
under-estimating people’s abilities to act on their own and in a
manner up to her standards.
    “Thank you for the flowers. I’ve brought my
own clothes.” In the end, Ryan didn’t see the point of arguing. She
was tired, and after the next few days wouldn’t see any more of her
aunt than she had over the past six years.
    Lucy put her hand on her hip, the platinum
and diamond Cartier tennis bracelet dangling from her wrist. “I’m
sure what you brought is fine, but fashions can vary. Particularly
between New York and Baltimore.”
    Lucy had always considered Ryan’s decision to
move to Baltimore one of her more serious infractions. The city was
founded by the working class, and had been built up through the
hard work of factory laborers over the generations.
    Ryan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I’ll give Carol final veto on the clothes. Is that fair?”
    Lucy pursed her lips. “Okay.”
    Ryan nodded. “I’m tired, and am going to take
a nap before dinner.”
    “Six o’clock sharp.” Lucy smiled.
    “Always.” Ryan turned and left the room. She
was already exhausted and she hadn’t even gotten to the
funeral.
    “Was she everything you remembered?” Carol
was going up the stairs as Ryan descended.
    “Picture of perfection.” Ryan teased.
    Carol laughed. “And Dad?”
    Ryan made a gesture as if she were swirling a
glass and drinking from it.
    Carol tisked. “The question is never if my father is drinking, but how many.”
    Ryan squeezed Carol’s hand and quickly
released it. “I’m going to lie down. Do you want to get a drink or
something after dinner?”
    Carol nodded, a broad smile on her lips.
“After the past few days, I’m willing to give my father a run for
his money.”
    Ryan laughed as she made her way back to her
room. Shutting the door behind her, she unlaced her boots, and
kicked them to the side of the nightstand. Pulling the comforter
back, she slid into the warm bed.
    Ryan knew all families were inherently messy.
People brought their own baggage into the mix, and managed to
create new pitfalls and traumas along the way. She wondered if her
family was unique in how they seemed to revel in the disasters.
     
     
     

Chapter 2
    Ryan stood next to the black Cadillac