A Love Song for Ricki Wilde (102)

She wasn’t well, and it couldn’t be denied.

Ricki and Ezra looked at each other, unspoken worry passing between them. She raised her fist to knock again, when Naaz opened the door.

Her golden-amber complexion was sallow and drained of all radiance. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was sniffling. The nurse, usually so bright and cheery, looked like she’d been awake all night.

Ricki’s stomach dropped. “Naaz…”

“She’s gone,” she whispered. “Ms. Della… she passed. I’m so deeply sorry. I know how much you loved her, Ricki.”

Instinctively, Ezra slipped his arm around Ricki’s waist. She slumped against his side, the wind punched out of her.

“But… it happened so fast,” whispered Ricki. “I wasn’t ready yet; I didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t want to say goodbye…”

Naaz shook her head. “The cancer would’ve taken her soon. But Ms. Della did it herself.”

Ezra flinched. “Herself?”

“W-we don’t understand. What do you mean?” Ricki’s voice was rising as panic and grief swirled inside her.

“Morphine. She knew where I kept it. And she took half the bottle.” The kind nurse reached out to pat Ricki’s arm, with a faint smile. “Ricki, this isn’t my first time experiencing this with very elderly, terminal patients. If it’s any consolation, exercising some semblance of control over the way they leave this world is often the most comforting thing for them. You know what she was like—Ms. Della was a force to be reckoned with. She died on her own terms. I don’t think it sat well with her, being at the mercy of an illness she couldn’t fight.”

All Ricki could do was nod, her arm wrapped around Ezra’s lower back, grabbing fistfuls of his hoodie, and his arms around her shoulders, helping to keep her standing.

Ezra nodded with absolute understanding. “When did she pass?”

“Just before midnight.”

Ricki’s heart plummeted. She pulled away from Ezra, the two exchanging a fraught glance.

Naaz reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a small note card. It was one from the batch of Ricki’s homemade paper. “She left you a note. Actually, it’s for both of you.”

She handed it to Ricki. Their names were written on the envelope in Ms. Della’s spidery cursive handwriting.

“Want to come in? Grab a bite, have some coffee? I’m just filling out some paperwork. Della’s great-nephew on her husband’s side, her next of kin, flew up from Atlanta and is with her now. At the funeral home.”

“No,” said Ricki. “No, we’re fine. Thank you for telling us. And for taking such good care of Ms. Della.” She was too dazed to speak eloquently, to cry, to wail, to yell. Instead, she drew Naaz into a brief embrace. She couldn’t go into the apartment, not yet. Ms. Della’s death would feel too real.

“You take care, okay?” Naaz offered a thin, sad smile before shutting the door.

Dumbfounded, Ricki and Ezra sat on the top step of the stoop. She opened the note. In a voice that didn’t sound like her own, she read it out loud.



Dear Ricki and Ezra,



Now, stop it. Ricki, don’t be sad. I was ready to go. I’ve lived a beautiful life. I’ve experienced great love. The one thing my grandmother and mother wanted, but never had. I’ve felt guilty about that. For being the lucky one.

I can’t think of a nobler cause than to die for love. You see, love should never hurt. Rejection, abandonment, cruelty, so forth, those things hurt. But love, itself? No.

Ricki and Ezra, I couldn’t stand by and watch you hurt, when I could sacrifice myself to save you.

Promise me that you’ll choose to love each other hard. Every day. And that you’ll pass it on. This will be my legacy.

I always wondered what my purpose was, and you gave it to me, Ricki. Being your grandmother has been one of my greatest joys. Thank you.

That’s all, for now. Off to see my sweet doctor, again.

Always,

Ms. Della, your new angel





Ricki and Ezra were here. Ms. Della was gone. And she was, henceforth and forevermore, their hero.





EPILOGUE





February 29, 2036

Leap Day

You’d think that Dr. Bennett and I spend all day sipping tea in the ancestral plane. Well, that’s not all we do. I’m a busy woman. I have so many folks to look after! My life was long and full, and my friends are plentiful. Now, I certainly don’t rank my people in terms of importance. Unimaginably tacky. But if I did, Ricki and Ezra would be at the top of the list.

I’ve always kept an eye on them.

I’ve watched Wilde Things grow and grow, taking over the entire brownstone. Richard Wilde Sr. was so proud, which made Richard Wilde Jr. even prouder. He presented Ricki with a business proposal: to buy a small share of her business and build Wilde Things kiosks in his franchises. But Ricki declined, staying true to her original vision. Which, in turn, made me proud.

I tell you, it tickles me that she and Ezra never told a soul about the curse. After a while, they were so lost in the wonderful banality of their everyday lives that they stopped thinking about it. Only Tuesday knew, and she never breathed a word. She had her own stuff going on. Opening that facial spa and running capers with… an unlikely-looking fella she met years ago at somebody’s wedding. Tuesday’s a whole other story, and like I said, I’m a busy woman.