Page 195 of June First
FIRST THINGS FIRST
BRANT, AGE 26
It’s my first June first without her.
Aunt Kelly sits beside me in the spongy grass, her cheeks streaked in tears. The sun sinks behind a blood-orange horizon, casting an ambient glow atop the staggered headstones.
“I’ve been visiting your mother’s grave every year on this day,” she murmurs, dabbing her cheekbones with a handkerchief. “This is only the second time I’ve cried.”
My heart races as I sit beside the grave site, cross-legged. “This is only the second time I’ve visited her grave, period,” I admit guiltily.
She smiles. “I appreciate that you came with me today. I think it’s why I’m extra emotional.”
A warm breeze kisses my face, and I close my eyes with a mix of melancholy and peace.
It’s been nine months since I reached out to Aunt Kelly, reestablishing a relationship after years of bare minimum contact. She’s always been kind to me; she’s always been good. And she’s the only person left linking me to my mother.
I’m not sure why I grew so distant.
Sad reminders, maybe.
Fear.
She looks like my mom with her coppery hair like maple syrup and melted-chocolate eyes. She still smells like her cat, but sometimes when the breeze blows just right, I’ll get a hint of the same sweet scent of my mother. They’re imprints that used to make my skin prickle and stomach pitch, but now they bring me a semblance of comfort.
Just like Bubbles.
As it turns out, Aunt Kelly had Bubbles tucked away inside a box in her attic this whole time. The stuffed animal was taken into evidence by the detectives on the scene, but when the crime was pieced together fairly quickly and the case was closed, the few belongings collected that night were given back to Aunt Kelly, the next of kin.
She’d nearly tossed him.
The plush toy had partially fallen into a puddle of blood, staining the elephant’s leg. But Aunt Kelly decided to wash it instead, cleaning the toy thoroughly with bleach and peroxide, knowing how important it was to me.
Only, by the time it was returned to her, she’d already bought me a new elephant, thinking Bubbles had been thrown away.
I was finally acclimating to my new life with the Baileys. I was in therapy. I was trying to forget.
And she feared that if I saw the old toy it would set me back and hinder my healing.
So she sealed him up inside a box, along with an assortment of other childhood trinkets. Books and special outfits. A few art projects I’d created in kindergarten made of molds and clay.
She’d planned on giving me that box when I had my own children one day, to pass the treasures down to a new little boy or girl.
Bubbles sat inside that box in Aunt Kelly’s attic for twenty years.
Until there was June.
She’d contacted my aunt on a desperate whim, shortly after arriving in New York. June eventually told me that she’d simply woken up with a feeling one morning. She couldn’t explain it. She said she’d been missing me a whole lot, crying herself to sleep with Aggie in her arms, wishing I had my own special elephant from childhood.
While June had begged her parents for information about the lost toy over the years, they never had any answers for her. She’d even called the police department one time, but they had no idea what she was talking about.
She never thought to ask Aunt Kelly.
Not until that morning.
My aunt shipped the toy off to New York the same day, then June shipped him to me, wanting to personalize the gift with her poem.
And hell, I’m grateful.