The sun sets quietly behind the trees, and the lake goes from dark blue, to orange to black. I tighten the string of my hood and lean back on one of the deck chairs to wait for the stars to come out.
Not a creative thought is going through my mind.
I feel simple. Stupid. Plain.
I close my eyes and let the cool night air brush against my cheeks. When I open them, Consuela is standing there stomping her foot.
"Yer iz too quiet, Mia." she says and waddles over to another deck chair to take a seat.
"Yeah," I say back. I'm feeling melancholy, and my heart is aching a bit.
"Yer iz should maybe go inside to talk wis da family. Dey is almost ready for da dinner, and I sink dat dey is good for yer." she says while readjusting herself on the chair. Her chubby legs are too short to reach the ground, so she has a hard time maneuvering herself. It's an effort for one of her ass cheeks to defy gravity and scooch back a few inches.
"Yeah, I will." I say and watch as the stars start to peek out from the sky.
Moments pass. I don't really feel like moving, or going inside.
"Hey! You hungry?" yells Aunt Nancy as she slides open one of the glass doors and sticks her head out to see me.
I don't say anything and so she walks over to me and sits down on the end of my lounge chair. "Whatchya doing out here alone in the dark, silly?" she says and gives me a big smile. I look at her and try to feign a smile back, but it's hard. Somehow I've lost the jolt that usually plugs me into my surroundings.
"It's alright," she says and puts her hand on top of mine, "you're grieving. It does funny things to you. You just need to take it one day at a time, and before you know it -- you'll remember what it was like to be your old self again."
I look down. I have a hard time even connecting with her. I feel -- diluted.
"Come on!" she says and stands, "we're having filet mignons for dinner -- they're almost done. Come and have a glass of wine with us."
I stand and slowly follow behind her, trying to take in deep breaths -- and allowing for the fatigue to have its way with me.
"You've got good angels," say Aunt Nancy as we reach the glass door. I step through the door into the warmth of the cottage. There's a full fire going and so I walk towards one of the couches to rest until dinner is served.
"She'll be fine," I hear my Aunt Nancy whisper to the others. A moment later I hear the clinking of the plates being put on the dining room table.
When I have the energy, I stand to join the others for some food.
