“Miss Taylor?” Michael asked still giggling.
“Yes, Michael,” I asked.
“Your aunt is funny!” he said with a smile.
Michael was one of the kids in my kindergarten class. He could act up a bit, but on the whole wasn’t a bad kid. But I had no idea what he was talking about.
“My what, Michael?”
“Your Aunt. She’s right there!” he pointed to the empty chair across the table from where he was coloring.
Now the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Michael, what does she look like?”
“She’s got these great big glasses on. And…what?” he leaned towards the empty chair. “She said they’re her Elton John glasses? I don’t know what that means.”
My breath caught in my throat. I had always referred to my late aunt’s glasses as “Elton John” because they were oversized and always a little outrageous. I’d never mentioned my aunt in class, certainly never mentioned her glasses…
Was my aunt here? I got goosebumps. And then waves of emotion – sadness because she was my favorite aunt and we always laughed together. And then anger at my cousin, who I am certain killed her mom. She had made her change her life insurance policy a month before she “fell down the stairs.” I confronted my cousin about it and of course she denied it, but, worse, cried her crocodile tears to the whole family. Now I’m a pariah – my own mother said she wouldn’t talk to me unless I apologized. But I wouldn’t. She killed my aunt. I didn’t have a way to prove it, but I can’t pretend I don’t know what really happened.
“Miss Taylor?” Michael asked, snapping me out of my reverie.
“Yes, Michael?”
“Miss Taylor, your aunt said to tell you you’re right.”