Party Time Part 1

So, ever since Aunt Margaret left me her laptop, I've been going through it, and I actually think she's got parts of 20 books in there. No, I'm serious. She had all these unfinished manuscripts and concepts for books that she never actually put to paper. There was one where she wanted to explore the afterlife. Maybe she 'crossed over' to research that one?

I've never been a big believer in reincarnation. I always thought it was a hokey construct meant to satisfy people who missed their relatives after they died. But I've been itching to go to the cemetery again, if for no other reason than to see if ghosts really exist and there is a 'heaven' or at least some kind of half-life purgatory.

If that isn't enough, Darrel is completely ignoring me. He actually showed up to my house and plopped down on the sofa and didn't speak a word to me. He doesn't return my phone calls.

I've been spending the last few days planning my birthday party, and I have to tell you, the constant emails and IMs trying to get people to show up has been exhausting. I had to line up a DJ. My dad paid for the rental of the Old Pier Beach for the afternoon.

So when I went to Darrel's to invite him personally, he wouldn't even come to the door. Instead his stepfather just stared at me. Darrel, meanwhile, wouldn't even give me the satisfaction of blasting his insults to me face to face. So, I had to talk to him behind the barrier of the door.

"Are you coming to my birthday party Saturday at Old Pier?" I asked.

"Why? To stare at some toffee faced brats running around in swimsuits?"

I took offense. "Who are you calling a toffee faced brat?"

"If the shoe fits, sister --"

By that time I was steaming mad, about ready to kick down his front door. "Look, Darrel, I'm the damn cause you passed trig this term, and this is the thanks I get?"

I turned around and stomped away, trying to fight the tears that were trying to stream down my face.

Dad's birthday

On top of everything else that's been going on, dad had his elder birthday party recently. I tell you, I looked at the pictures of grandpa and dad pretty much looks exactly like him, it's spooky.

When we sat down to eat our cake, Noah broached the subject of the wedding. Now, with everything else going on, the wedding was kinda on the back burner, but he kinda brought it back to the forefront.

"So -- you coming to my wedding, dad?" Noah asked over cake in the banquet room.

"Of course I'm coming, son. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Dad - you're not gonna show up for the wedding in your loud patterned purple shirt, will you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Cause Sadie and I have a color scheme picked out, and we want everyone in the family to come in that color."

"What are those colors?"

"Seafoam and green," Noah said with a smile.

Dad laughed his trademark hearty laugh. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought it came from Yorkshire.

Plumb Family Values

On his day off, dad took Sebastian to the library to let him brush up on his toddler books. Gotta tell y'all, kid is totally MADE of cute (if I might say so myself).

Aren't they just sooo adorable?

Meanwhile, I got there after school because it was Thursday and I wanted to study for my biology final. Seriously, how many different varieties of fish do I really need to know?

When it came time to leave, I didn't see any sign of my dad. But I did see Sebastian! Turns out that somehow dad -- the space cadet -- left him there at the library! I'm not even sure if he knew I was there. I took a deep breath, calmed down, and took Sebastian home.

Sebastian was hungry and tired, so even though it was well past midnight when I got back to the house, I took him and fed him his baby food and put him to bed.

I wonder about my dad sometimes. I love him to death but I don't think he's 'here' half of the time.

Darrel part 2

Well, I think I got some of that sense knocked into my head. Darrel called me a spoiled rotten little brat, then raised his hand to hit me, after I'd befriended him.

"Look, I'm not Grace, you know," I told him. "You're not gonna get away with this. You'd better behave before I report you to the police. I have them on speed dial."

He tried to give me that sob story about his dad dying. I was, like, look, buster, I just lost my dear aunt. You don't see me acting that way. Plus, he put his hand to Grace BEFORE that happened so that's really no excuse.

Cooler heads prevailed and we settled down to do our trig homework. The only thing he managed to utter to me was, "You have a nice house."

Mom and dad came downstairs after hearing all the commotion. "What's going on?" dad asked. And I told him everything. A lot of my friends are jealous that my dad is so cool about these things. "I'll talk to him," he said.



After Darrel left, I went to the park where I met Ari, who was there with the lady she was staying with. I ended up telling her everything.
"Girl, you've really got it bad for this guy."
"I know, I mean, intellectually I know he's bad news, but still, there's something about him..." I let out a deep sigh.
"He needs to get over himself if he thinks he's gonna get a girlfriend by insulting folks. Maybe that's the only way he knows how to show affection. You don't know how he grew up."
"I suppose that is true --"
"I mean, Vanna, not everybody had a fairy-tale childhood like you did."
"Who says my childhood was a fairy tale?"
"Compared to mine it was! A lot of people, actually. You don't realize, girl, you had it real good."
I thought about it. I suppose I had a privileged life. My parents are both famous musicians and my aunt was a successful author. I never lacked for anything.

Darrel

Remember Darrel Marks, the guy I ran into at the mall? He's the one I caught hitting Kris' sister, Grace Geary.

Well, there's been some -- developments -- that I thought you'd be interested in. See, Grace moved back to Driftwood with her mom. I can't say I blame her, the way Darrel treated her. But Darrel asked to come over to my place and study. So I said, okay. We'll go over some things for English and trigonometry. It may seem strange for the daughter of two musicians to like math, but I do.

I even came out and asked him, why'd you hit her?

He was, like, "Why did I hit who?"

"You hit Grace, I saw you." And I warned him that if he even as much as laid one unnecessary finger on me he would hear from my dad, my lawyer, and the police, in addition to my fist. I mean, I may be slight, but I am not scared of anyone. I'm tougher than I look.

I know I shouldn't be thinking this way, but I'm totally falling for him. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way. He's chubby, bald, not even cute -- in a conventional way. He dresses in these clashing checks and plaids. Once I found out he was brave, like me, I think I was gone. The kicker is that he also likes exploring and hanging out in cemeteries. Never mind that he's also clumsy and mean-spirited.

My llama, what's wrong with me? He is totally not right for me in any way, so why do I feel this way? I'm certainly not one of those desperate women who'll just woohoo with anything that has a pulse. Or at least, I thought I wasn't. Please knock some sense into my head.

The funeral

I went down to my favorite boutique and picked out a gown to wear to Aunt Margaret's funeral dinner. Set me back several thousand simoleans, but hey, Aunt Margaret was worth it.

The obituary I submitted to the local paper got published. It was something about seeing it in black and white that really got to me. It was, like, man, she really is gone. And she's not coming back -- at least, not in human form.

Dad was really having a time of it, trying to potty-train Sebastian. I mean, he really shouldn't be still potty-training at his age. He's about to turn elder!

After I'd changed into my gown, Noah came into my bedroom (got to get used to saying my bedroom, as you see, I've redecorated Aunt Margaret's bedroom in my favorite color, blue, and dad said when they first moved in that's what color it was originally). He tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, sis."

I knew it was him by the way he spoke to me. His voice was soft and kind, like dad's. Pretty much anything sets me off these days, even something as minor as someone saying 'hi.'

"Just make sure you don't embarrass the family."

I rolled my eyes. "Since when have I ever?"
Noah looked at me incredulously. "More times than I care to count. Do you need me to rattle them off?"

"You know, sis, I'm really proud of you. You got your grades all the way up to where you're now up for valedictorian. You put all this together for Aunt Margaret. You know what, you're becoming quite a young lady. You look great tonight."

I smiled. I couldn't tell him mom had done most of the work arranging things. "Thanks."

Then he pointed out my choker. "Say, is that Aunt Margaret's? I remember seeing that in a photograph."

"Yeah, it is. She gave it to me a few simdays before she died. She said it belonged to her grandmother in England."

"Well, it looks great on you."

When I went into the banquet room, I ate the cheesesteak and I caught sight of Windy eating the baked angel food cake. "Say, Win, is it good?"

"Yeah, it's delightful."

I knew Windy had had some tie with Aunt Margaret, exactly what tie, I wasn't entirely sure. But the way Windy had told me, apparently she'd come to lecture her class and stayed behind to sign some books.

Windy's family was of Pakistani origin. Her grandfather, Iqbal, had come over to Sunset Valley with his two boys after he split from their mother. His third son, Adrian, was born in Sunset of a Simerican woman.

"So," I told Windy, "I heard a noise coming from the upstairs bathroom, and it's what we all dread, it's the Reaper. He showed up while my aunt was taking a dump."

"You sound excited about having seen him," Windy noted.

I had to admit I was. Ever since I was little I've had this curiosity about, well, things little girls just aren't supposed to be curious about. I think it's the story Aunt Margaret used to tell, that when mom was pregnant with me, she spent a lot of time in the cemetery late at night fishing for deathfish for her secret recipe.
"So, Savannah, you're up for valedictorian?" Windy asked me, desperate to change the subject.

Oh boy. News travels really fast around here. "I suppose so," I said, "I was as surprised as anyone when I found out."

"Why should you be? You're smart, and you know it. You have as good a chance of getting valedictorian as any of the others in the running."

I had to admit, Savannah Rachel Plumb, class valedictorian, had a nice ring to it.

After dinner, I heard Noah down in the basement, and HE, not my father, was playing the elegy! Everyone, my dad included, gathered around to hear him play it. Apparently my dad had taught it to him. I wonder if he chickened out of performing it and then let Noah do it instead.

The day after Part 2

Dad, of course, is completely and totally gutted. His only sibling is gone. I wish I knew what to say to him that hasn't already been said. Complicating matters is that his own elder birthday is just a few simdays away. If imagining mom as an elder is difficult, imagining dad as one is darn near impossible.

The only thing that seems to soothe him, of course, is his music. When I walked in that evening, he was in the middle of the floor with his guitar, almost as if he was in a trance. I didn't recognize the song, but mom told me later it was the one he'd written for Aunt Margaret, called "Maggie." It's got a haunting rhythm with a quiet tempo. Seems he's got a song written for pretty much everyone important in his life. I wonder if he's gonna perform it at her funeral service. Seems like it'd be a fitting tribute.

Speaking of her funeral service, I finally got started on that obituary for the paper. I spent the rest of the evening in the library working on it. After searching Aunt Margaret's laptop, I found that she'd written her own obituary; I simply worked from that template, adding in details as I saw fit.

"Margaret Niamh Plumb, daughter of the late Nigel Plumb of Sunset Valley and the late Carolyn Finney Plumb of Thirsk, Yorkshire, England, passed away on Sunday evening, week 22, Day 1. Age 105 Days. She is survived by one brother, Nathan Jolina-Plumb of Sunset Valley; five nephews, Nicholas Frio, Noah Plumb, Nathaniel Ursine, William Tripp, and Sebastian Plumb; one niece, Savannah Plumb; and a host of other relatives and friends..."

The day after Part 1

I cried myself to sleep in Aunt Margaret's room, in her bed. I didn't even have the heart to go upstairs in my own bed. Dad has said that it's mine for as long as I wish it, although it will likely be redecorated to my taste.

We had an incredibly close relationship. In many ways she was like my second mother. Now that she's gone, I'm not sure I know how I can endure.



Dad told me that I could skip school today, but somehow, I'm not sure Aunt Margaret would want me to. I decided, probably against my better judgment, to go.
It was the hardest day of my life. I couldn't concentrate, all I could think about was Aunt Margaret. Everybody sensed that I seemed distracted. Of course, it was bittersweet that today I found out I was in the running for valedictorian, along with Cassidy Reynolds (the brown-noser) and Lawrence Lum, and the scholarship that comes with it. I'm not sure how I got in the running, though, but I was a straight-A student until I got to high school.



I went home, changed clothes, and went through the motions at work. Then, in a fog, I went to the art gallery. Somehow immersing myself in the beauties of the brushmasters soothes me when I'm down.



Ari, of course, spotted me there. "I knew I'd find you here," she'd said.
"Why would you be looking for me?"
"You weren't at the lit club meeting today, I was wondering what happened. I actually thought you wouldn't talk to me after what I said the other day."
I shook it off.
"My aunt died."
"Meg Plumb? She-- she's -- she's dead?"
I nodded.
"When?"
"Last night, after dinner. The Reaper showed up while she was taking a dump."
"Boy, what a way to go, eh?"
"It's strange. I mean, she -- she's gone now. I miss her."
Ari reached for me and gave me a hug. "Savannah, I'm really sorry. Really, I am."

A Birthday and a Death Day Part 2

While dad was downstairs feeding Sebastian, I was still in the bathroom, bawling my eyes out. It hit me that I'd never lost anyone close to me before, and I wasn't real sure how to deal with it.

Then I heard dad call downstairs. "Savannah!"

When I went downstairs, I knew without knowing.

The look on his face said it all. He was going to the cemetery.



And he wanted me to come with him. He would leave mom at home with Sebastian. He needed to do this, after all, Aunt Margaret was his sister. And he wanted me along.



It was a drive neither of us wanted to make, a ride neither of us wanted to take, but both of us knew we had to do it. I couldn't bear to tell him about the fact that I had grandma's journal. Or the fact that I'd been going to the cemetery nearly every night in hopes of seeing her ghost. I couldn't bear to mention those things. Not now. Now, though, he wanted me there with him. Not mom. Not Noah. Not Billy or Nicholas. Me.



"Hey, dad, wait up!" I called to him in the thick soupy night air. At this time of the night the fog starts to roll in from the sea to our southwest.

I pretty much had to walk dad into the cemetery once we finally did meet. The poor guy, cemeteries are sooo NOT his thing.

We stood there, just the two of us (and the ghosts emerging from their slumber), contemplating on what had just happened. Dad had placed Aunt Margaret's tombstone right next to the graves of his parents.
Right then, dad reached over and grabbed my hand. His was a simple gesture, yet it meant so much. He didn't have to say anything.

"Dad," I whispered, "I miss her too."

And we both stood there and sobbed.

What comes next, I have no idea. Who's writing the obituary for the paper? Believe it or not, probably mom or me. I'm not sure dad has the strength to compose this. His strength is music, not words. When is the public funeral service? We don't know. Noah's wedding? That's up in the air, too.
All we knew was that at that moment, we were united in our loss.

A Birthday and a Death Day

Mom had her birthday/retirement party. It was a fairly typical Shandie Bellingham affair, which meant lots of food, cake, dancing and lively conversation. Of course, now she prefers to refer to herself as "Shandra." Okay, mom. I get it.

I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure how to deal with the fact that mom is an elder. It is definitely something I have to get used to. I'm used to having her bound around here, with energy for three, doing everything. There isn't anything she doesn't do around here, really. She wrote children's books. She paints. She cooks. She gardens. She fixes the toilets when they break. I swear, I actually think dad wouldn't be anywhere near where he is if it weren't for her. Why? Because my dad is a space cadet and would forget his head if it weren't attached to his body.

Some old guy in coveralls asked me to dance. I knew I probably should have said no but, after having had some of mom's 'jungle juice' I said yes anyway. I glanced over at Noah dancing with Clarice.

But our joy would be short lived. For little did I know that the pictures above would be the last ones of dear Aunt Margaret alive.

She passed away that very evening, just as the guests were leaving mom's party.

I heard a noise coming from the upstairs bathroom, and sure enough, it heralded the arrival of the great Grim Reaper. That's the thing about the Reaper. He never announces his arrival until he's actually there.

I knew this day would come, I feared this day would come, but the less you think about these things, the less prepared you actually are for them when they happen.

She died as she'd lived, with a book in her hand. Something you have to remember about Aunt Margaret, she had as strong a passion for books and reading as my dad has for music. You don't write 26 novels and have a collection of books as varied as any library without some love of the written word.

Dad, of course, was completely devastated. Aunt Margaret was his only sibling, and as she was significantly older than he, didn't really spend much time with him as he grew up. But as time passed they became really close.

But, as these things happen, life does go on, and Dad went about the business of dealing with Sebastian. The little guy, he has no clue of what just happened. He needed his evening meal.