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Here and Now – Letters to Cleo
I’m leaving for Vegas tomorrow to join the Grenade Bouquets on their tour. Since it’s summer, the ‘rents have okayed the trip, as long as I promised to check in with them at every stop. I have to admit that they’ve been cool. I think they realize I finally found something I’m into and don’t want me falling to pieces again. Like when I took off on my runaway extravaganza to mourn my sister’s death and went on a series of adventures that led me to meet Evan and the rest of the Bouquets and sing for the first time to Cobain’s music at a show. But also, how I’m not as sad and messed up as I used to be before I left.
With both Mom and Dad in new relationships, they are way happier too, and have also made time to talk with me about Kristen. There’s a guilty feeling when someone dies that you’re not honoring their memory if you don’t think about them all the time. It’s why I visited Kristen’s grave before I jet. I want to take her on this tour with me, but not for every moment. I don’t need her ghost like I used to. I’ve also heard that the dead stick around for a while somewhere between Earth and the afterlife and then follow their path when they’re certain their loved ones are ready to let them go. I’m not sure how much I believe this, but I know I’m more ready than I used to be and that’s fuckin’ progress.
I head over to Winter’s for one last hang before my departure. Jeremy is gonna be there too and they want to get bombed. I don’t wanna be hungover, but I promised I’d smoke and drink a little, enough to relax. Last minute, Winter let me know that her new stupid friend Emily, who I refer to as Emily Valentine—the 90210 psycho—would be hanging out too. On 90210, Emily Valentine was a bad influence on Brandon by making him do euphoria, a completely made up drug that was likely closest to ecstasy, and she did a ton of other sketchy shit too. I don’t see this Emily being any different. She’s sidled up to Winter and now they’re joined at the hip because Winter needs that in a friendship. While I don’t want it to bother me so much, it does. Winter has been my ride or die since we were eleven, and it’s weird to see someone else besides Jeremy sharing her clothes. I try to tell myself that I’m moving on to bigger and better things with the Grenade Bouquets, but Winter has a way of making herself the focus and she always will.
Winter’s mom Edina opens the door after one knock. She has a joint smoking in an old timey cigarette holder and her orange hair is in pigtails that actually look cute.
“Nico,” she says, with a light hug. “I heard about your show!” She waves the smoke from my face. “I always said you had a beautiful voice that you should share with the world.”
“Thanks,” I say, walking inside. Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco” plays from a record.
“I hear you’re going on tour with a band too.” Edina makes a face like she knows the kind of trouble I’m about to get into and wags her finger. She sings along with the song. “Be sure to wear, some flowers in your hair.”
She plucks a daisy from a vase and places it behind my ear. “I’m so proud.”
“I’m excited,” I say, and burp. “And nervous.”
In fact, my stomach’s been giving me hell ever since Evan asked me to go. For a second, I even wondered if I was pregnant but then remembered that Evan and I hadn’t actually slept together yet.
“Nerves are good,” she says, and then directs her hands over me without touching. “I’ve been practicing reiki. I’m feeding you energy right now. Good energy.” She smiles and shows off a few twisted teeth before planting the roach between her lips and feeding me more good energy. I don’t feel nothing, but nod like I do because Edina is a true empath and only wants the best for people.
“You’re gonna be a firecracker,” she says, in her posh British accent. “And I can say I once knew you when.”
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