Violets_Present_Fielding.pdf

Violet’s Present * Kim Fielding

Violet’s Present

T HE funeral was a small one. Aunt Violetreally, Great-

great-aunt Violethad long since outlived her husband, her

only daughter, and most of her friends. Her more distant

relatives lived too far away to do more than send flowers. She

had spent the past few years confined to Pleasant Valley

Nursing Home, waiting patiently for her body to catch up

with her mind’s wish to move on. Matt had said his goodbyes

to Aunt Violet months earlier, when he’d visited her in the

home, and he hadn’t really intended to fly back to Nebraska

for the service. But his mother had been tearful on the

phone, and when Matt realized that she needed someone to

stand at her side, he'd booked the next flight to Omaha. The

airfare took a good chunk out of his savings, but it was

worth it when he stood at the graveside, his mother’s hand

clutching his, her teary eyes looking at him gratefully.

After the funeral, he took her out to dinner at Olive

Garden, which wouldn’t have been his choice, but she

adored the place. She liked to gobble the breadsticks and

salad and then bring most of her entrée home, where it

would last her for at least another two meals. Matt, however,

simply picked at his grilled chicken and wished he were

already back in Oakland.

“You look tired, Matty.”

“Jet lag.”

“But it’s only two hours earlier in California.” Her blue

eyes were as sharp as ever. “What’s wrong? You’re not upset

about Aunt Violet, are you? She had a good life, and it was

her time.”

“I know, Mom.” He took a sip of his iced tea and wished

for something stronger.

Violet’s Present * Kim Fielding

“It’s that Brandon, isn’t it?” She always called him that

Brandon , her lips pursed disapprovingly. She had never even

met him but had long ago concluded that he wasn’t good

enough for her son.

“I told you. Brandon and I broke up four months ago.”

Four months, one week, and two days, but who’s counting?

“But you haven’t moved on. Come on, Matty. You’re

twenty-seven years old, you’re very handsome, and you have

a good job. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, and

most of them are lots better than that Brandon. But you

can’t expect them to just hop into your net. When was the

last time you went out somewhere?”

He supposed there were worse fates in the world than to

be stuck at a chain restaurant in Omaha, discussing his sex

life with his mother, but he couldn’t think of any just then.

“I’m not a hermit, Mom. Vanessa and I went for drinks after

work on Friday.”

“Unless you’re switching teams, that’s not what I’m

talking about and you know it.”

Some of Matt’s gay friends envied his family’s

acceptance of his sexual orientation and wouldn’t believe

him when he said there were downsides. Like when he came

home the summer after his freshman year in college and

outed himself to his mother, and then three days later she

and his Aunt Violet tried to set him up with Aunt Violet’s

gardener. Carl was a nice guy, but huge, hairy, and prone to

leather and tattoos. So not Matt’s type.

“I just want you to be happy, Matty,” his mother said,

interrupting his brief and unpleasant reverie.

“I am happy, Mom. Really. Just tired, is all.”

She made a face that said she didn’t believe a word, but

then the waiter arrived with the dessert menu and she

changed the subject, instead involving him in a debate as to

whether she should order the tiramisu or the mousse cake.

Violet’s Present * Kim Fielding

He drove them back to her one-bedroom condo in his

rented Ford and walked her to the door, carrying her bag of

leftovers.

“Are you sure you won’t stay with me, dear? A hotel is

so expensive,” she said. “I can sleep on the couch and”

“It’s fine, Mom. Really.” He wasn’t going to be

responsible for her waking up with a sore back, and the

couch was too short for his long legs. “Besides, I have an

early flight home and I don’t want to wake you.”

“You could stay another day or two,” she suggested.

“Gotta get back to work.” Not that the world would stop

spinning if he missed a few more dayshe was an animator,

mostly hack work for commercials, but he hoped to someday

get a job with one of the studios. He liked his job, and

Omaha hadn’t felt like home in a long time. Besides,

Brandon was back in California, and maybe this time No,

he reminded himself sternly. That was over.

Matt bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “’Night,

Mom. I’ll call you when I land in Oakland.”

She nodded and unlocked the door. He was halfway to

the parking lot when she called after him. “Matt! Matty!”

“What?” he called back, pausing on the sidewalk.

“I forgot! I have something for you.”

With a sigh and a fervent hope that she didn’t intend to

give him yet another web address for gay online dating, he

trudged back to the door. Her condo was tiny, affordable on

her teacher’s salary while freeing up money for the

Caribbean cruises she looked forward to every December and

July. As always, she had books everywhere: overflowing

shelves, piled precariously on tables, scattered across chairs,

and in stacks on the floor. Matt smiled at the disorder and

felt camaraderie in this particular trait he'd inherited from

her. He’d lost two roommates over his literary addictions but

decided he liked his books better than them anyway. His

mother dug through a closet until she produced a white

Violet’s Present * Kim Fielding

plastic grocery bag containing something that looked like a

large book. “Aunt Violet gave me this several months ago,

right after your last visit. She really took a turn for the worse

after that.”

“Sorry.”

She reached up to pat his cheek. “Don’t be. You visited

her, and she knew you thought about her.” She set the bag

on the kitchen counter; the plastic made little crackling

sounds when she smoothed it with her palms. “Now, you

know Aunt Violet never had much money, and she spent all

her savings on her care during the last years.”

“I wasn’t expecting an inheritance.”

“I know, dear. She had a few pieces of jewelry for me,

and your Uncle Bob got all her furniture when she moved to

the home.”

Matt tried to picture Aunt Violet’s furniture in his

modern apartment: ancient wooden farmhouse pieces

marooned in all that chrome and glass. He smiled. “Did

Uncle Bob get those hideous dishes too?” Aunt Violet used to

serve him cheese sandwiches on those dishesalways with

the crusts cut off, as his younger self had preferredand her

special butter cookies with the jam in the middle.

“Uncle Bob said he likes the dishes,” his mother said

with a chuckle. “He always has had terrible taste. But Aunt

Violet had something for you too.” She patted the bag.

Matt carefully removed the book from its wrapping and

then grunted slightly in surprise as he recognized it. “Her

photo album!”

“She remembered how much you used to enjoy it when

you were a boy.”

When Matt was little, he and his mother would spend

long afternoons at Aunt Violet’s house. He was much too

young to realize it at the time, but his mother was there to

receive consolation over her deteriorating marriage. Matt

would bring along his toys and coloring books, but

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