I walked into the apartment, pulling my key from the doorknob. I crossed the lushly carpeted living room and thats when my feet made the first tell tale splush of wet carpet. Oh gosh there was a lot of water.
I walked gingerly through the master bedroom and could hear the water running. Walking into the bathroom – there was a rush of rose water scent as it wafted up from the bubbles covering the floor. They’d started moving out onto the bedroom carpet like a Hawaiian lava flow. I reached down and turned off the water and looked back at my great aunt.
For someone who had been assuredly dead for a few minutes to an hour – she looked miraculous. Carol always had a flash for the ridiculous. Rather than be ashamed of it, she always enthusiastically embraced it. She was famous for arriving at parties in her latest ridiculous fashions. She’d stop in the doorway and announce herself.
“This!”, she’d say motioning down her body, waving with her hands, “This amount of staggering beauty is a lot of work.”
She sat there in one of those fifties neon flower shower caps that represented every color in the rainbow plus a few colours not really found in nature. Immortalized in her right hand was a half full glass of bright crimson red wine. On the tray in front of her, a now soggy national enquirer open to a page about the stars. She loved her Hollywood gossip. Her stars. Her cosmos.
At 94, she looked like a starlet herself. The tiniest hint of expensive blush and the latest, trendy loud red lipstick. She’d talk wild romantic fantasies of what she’d do if she could get only “her grubbies on that Italian stallion at the Maybelline counter.”
I loved the idea of Carol going this way. There she was in the midst of her favorite past-time, enjoying a beautiful California red and maxing out on every possible idea of glamour.