top of the bag, peered inside and studied the vivid lilac shade. I reached into the bag, pulled out the thick cotton knit and shook out the sweatshirt.
A new sweatshirt.
I looked down at the ratty sweatshirt currently covering the upper half of my body and laughed. The cuffs were no longer attached and the zipper was on its last tooth, literally.
“Read it.” Ashley’s eyes grew even brighter.
Read it?
I turned the garment around and read the single word emblazoned across the chest in big, bold letters.
Goddess.
“Oh, shit.” I slapped a hand across my mouth as I started to laugh. “I mean...shoot.”
“Isn’t it great?” Ashley didn’t miss a beat, snatching the new sweatshirt out of my hands and reaching to unzip the one I wore.
I captured her hand in mine. “Excuse me?”
“We’re burning it.” Diane waggled her fingers at my zipper. “Get that off.”
“Burning it?” My voice squeaked on the last word.
Diane pursed her lips and nodded. I’d forgotten just how bossy she could be.
But, I liked it.
A grin spread across my face as I looked down again at the sweatshirt that had been my faithful companion through most every moment of my recent metamorphosis.
Burning it.
I liked that idea a lot.
I unzipped my top, shrugged out of the offending garment and let it drop to the floor in a faded gray puddle. Diane plucked the beyond repair sweatshirt from the floor and headed toward the back door as Ashley stepped behind me, holding up the lilac sweatshirt as if the garment were a coronation robe.
I slid my arms into the new sleeves, savoring the plush feel of unworn cotton against my skin. I reached down to pull the zipper home, stepped in front of the hall mirror and smiled.
Goddess.
Not even close, but I’d take it.
I laughed.
“Where are your matches?” Diane’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
Matches.
Now, I might be a tad on the uncoordinated side, but the thought of the now-very-pregnant Diane lumbering about in the backyard with a pack of matches made my blood run cold.
“I’ll get them,” I answered.
Several minutes later, we’d successfully fired up the barbeque pit. Diane held the old gray sweatshirt in her outstretched arms as if it reeked of disease.
“Anything you want to say?” she asked.
I reached for the shirt, plucking it from her grip. “Let me do that.”
I dropped the sweatshirt on top of the fire, frowning momentarily when I thought it might extinguish the flames instead of catching them, but the fire’s glow grew, sparkling through the beads on my bracelet.
I smiled, knowing exactly what I wanted to say. Exactly what I wanted to believe.
“To chasing rainbows.” I hoisted up one of the three glasses of water we’d poured to celebrate the moment.
Ashley’s forehead crumpled, but Diane beamed. Someday Ashley would know exactly what I meant. For the time being, she merely shrugged and took a sip of her water.
We watched as the flames licked up from the barbeque pit Ryan and I had used just once.
“Aunt Bernie, do you have any--”
“For the love of God, do not say peas.” I shot Ashley a warning glare.
“Marshmallows?” She finished her question and shook her head. “Why would I want to roast peas?”
The three of us laughed, the sound of our happiness mingling with countless sparkles of light, lifting from the burning sweatshirt and dancing on the night air before fading away, leaving only the promise of things to come.
The drone of a plane sounded overhead and Poindexter took off running, paws pounding against the yard, snout pointed skyward, his gaze fixated on the lights of a cargo plane circling for landing.
As Ashley headed inside to look for marshmallows, I did something I’d thought about doing countless times before.
I put down my glass and ran with my dog, racing back and forth across the yard, keeping the target in focus.
A single airplane. Poindexter’s rainbow.
We chased until the plane was out of sight, then I dropped down onto the grass, laughing, pulling Poindexter into my arms.
If I wasn’t mistaken, a silhouette moved away from the patio doors down at Number Thirty-Six.
And I smiled.
o0o
“We love those who know the worst of us and don’t turn their faces away.”
-Walker Percy
TWENTY-TWO
I woke early the day I was meeting Ryan at the lawyer’s office. Matter of fact, I hadn’t slept much at all.
We were to sign our property settlement at lunchtime. The division of property hadn’t been difficult. For one thing, our house was pretty much the only thing we had. Sure, we’d been very careful about saving for retirement and