Page 10 of Chasing Stardust

“She did.” Jeanie swipes a stray tear from her cheek. “She taped them to pages inside her diary.”

Grandma snuffs out her cigarette on a shingle and tosses the butt over the side. “We had the best time that summer.”

Dozens of questions pick at loose threads in my soul. Five minutes ago, I wanted nothing to do with Grandma Lola’s ridiculous story, and now I can’t get enough to quench my curiosity. “Just that summer? You didn’t go on any other wild trips together?”

“Sadly, no. She went off to school, met your father, started a career and a family. We were on different paths right from the beginning. The road’s no place for a baby. I should know.” She blinks several times before changing the subject. “What do you girls say? Should we leave in the morning?”

“Sounds good to me.” Jeanie turns to me, eyes probing.

“I don’t know.” It was easy to get caught up in her story, but I still don’t understand how a summer trip Mom took over thirty years ago factors into her final resting place. “Why can’t we just spread her ashes under the big tree in the yard? At least then we can go talk to her sometimes.”

Jeanie’s nostrils flare, her jaw clenching and unclenching. “Because Mom’s gone, Zo. She’s not coming back. But you know what? I’m here. And you’re here. And she wouldn’t want us spending every damn minute of every damn day mourning her. Sticking around this shitty little town, or tied to this shitty little house, just to visit her tree every day. She’d want us out there”—Jeanie points into the night—“experiencing life. So pack a damn bag, because we’re going!”

A twinge of guilt silences my objection, the words turning to ash in my mouth. I jerk my head in a curt nod.

Jeanie’s features relax, as if the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders. “I think we should re-create the pictures Mom took in each city. Zo and I can even pose the same way she did. In the fountain in Cleveland . . .”

Grandma’s eyes light up. “On the pier in Santa Monica?”

“Exactly!” Jeanie beams.

“I love that idea.” Grandma pulls out a hand-rolled cigarette from her pocket.

My gaze locks on her fingers as she lights it and takes a long drag, holding her breath for what seems like forever.

The skunky odor hits my nostrils, and I flinch. “Is that pot?”

She finally exhales, coughing as she waves the cloud away from my face. “Don’t have an aneurysm, dear. It’s perfectly legal. I have a prescription.”

She seems to forget that Mom had cancer. I know all about the law. Sure, people did it, but not out in the open. Not on the roof where the neighbors can see.

“This isn’t California!” I hiss. “You can’t smoke it here!”

“What the hell else are you supposed to do with it?” Grandma takes another drag.

Panicking, I turn to my sister. “Tell her!”

Jeanie laughs. “She’s freaking out because the guy across the street is a mall security guard.”

“Ooh, a mall cop?” Grandma snickers. “That is scary.”

Rough asphalt scrapes my skin as I scramble to my knees. Just being here makes me an accessory. Guilt by association, like Mom always said. “You two are gonna get me arrested!”

“Honey, it’s only a crime if you get caught. And it’ll be legal in all fifty states before you know it, mark my words.” Grandma passes the joint to Jeanie, who takes it without hesitation.

I stare at Jeanie as a wave of panic threatens to drown me. “You said you were quitting!”

She smirks. “Today wasn’t the day to quit.”

“What if your new job drug tests you?”

Jeanie rolls her eyes. “They won’t.”

“You don’t know that!” I grab her wrist, but she won’t give up the joint without a fight.

The roof is like sandpaper under my bare feet as we dance around, hands locked in the most epic thumb war ever. Jeanie rotates her wrist to the right, and I counter with a twist to the left.

“Let me go, you lunatic.” She jerks her hand free and stumbles backward, a scream caught in her throat.