'Hey, Rose.'

'How are you, Mrs. Jones?'

'Well, good, I guess. You ready for this? I could wait --'

'No. Yes.' I turn the key and enter, lugging the folded cartons. Where do I start?

I place the cardboard on the dining table. Damn. I return to the entrance to remove my shoes ― she hated me carrying the dust inside.

'This must have been beautiful,' Mrs. Jones slides the window overlooking the depleted garden, leaning over the dead rose bushes. 'Looks like we'll need some help with this.'

'Yes. She loved her roses. Said they reminded her of―'

What shall I take? Utensils? I've too many. Maybe this... I lift the heavy brass pot, the one she cooked Biryani in ― when we rolled flour and pasted the lid to trap the flavors.

'Your mum was from India, right?'

'Yeah.' My gaze shifts to the top shelf.

I rise on my toes, stretch and reach for the cup. It's too high.

'Let me,' Mrs. Jones rises and grabs the cup and hands over.

'I gifted her this on her last birthday.' I lift the cup to the light ― World's Best Mum ― printed in white, the lip chipped.

'I am done.'

'You sure? Why don't you take your time? Take whatever you need. 

'Uh-huh'

'Hey, you okay?'

I sink into the recliner by the dead fireplace ― Mum's favorite place, my breath choked.

'She had nothing. Nothing.'

I point at the dead ash in the fire-place, the memories burnt. 'She had nothing.'

'She had you, Rose.'

'No. I left. I left her. Alone. I thought I could do without her.'

'You did great.'

'Look,' I lift the cup. 'Look what I left behind ― World's Best Mum.'

'You sure you want to sell this place?'

'I left her when she needed me.' 

'We can cancel the paperwork, Rose. Perhaps --'

'No.'

'You really shouldn't.'

'She always said I couldn't decide. I must.'

'I understand.'

I leave the cartons, folded, unfilled, flat on the dining table and walk out; my heart empty and flat.

'You're welcome whenever you want to visit, Rose.'

'Thank you.'

I start the car, keep my eyes away from the house, and shift the gear. I press the pedal and drive, straight ahead, away, turn right.

I can't see through the tears and stop. 'God.' I rest my head against the steering. I wish I could decide just once. 'I am sorry, Maa.'

'Hey, Rose. Everything's alright?'

'Yes. No. I mean... I have a request.

'Yes.'

'Can I spend a night in my mother's bed?'

She opens the door and I snuggle into my Mum's bed, hug her pillow, wrap myself in her memories. I haven't slept a day since she died.

'