Descent

Chapter Nine

Pitter patter pitter patter.
    The raindrops hit the window as Aunt Rebecca and I sat there. The air that hung wasn't pleasant as it usually was and the smell of rain had collected in the flat along with the smell of tea.
    She sat on the jade couch uncomfortably; I didn't blame her. While we hadn't exactly spoken much of my uncle, it was made clear neither of us really wanted to start that conversation. But, I did. . . I'm still not sure if it was a good decision. I sat down in the red, faded chair that I'd bought at an auction and stared across at the purple stain by her leg where I'd spilled wine almost a year ago. She sipped her tea and put it down in front of her on the small coffee table.
    "So. . . about Uncle James. . . what did you want to know?" She was wringing her hands together and trying to hide the fact she didn't want to be talking.
    "I. . ." I didn't know where to start. I felt the keys in my vest pocket as if they were all burning still.  "Was there anything he ever hid from people?" Fuck. Great way to start. I hid my face in my hand. That is, until she burst out laughing. I looked up at her confused, "what's so funny?"
    She continued laughing, a little more at ease than before. "Did he hide things?" She laughed as the words exited her mouth. She eventually stopped herself and wiped the forming tears from her eyes. She looked at me and smiled gently; "My dear, your uncle hid everything. For goodness sake, we lived in a town where we hid our first names. Our personalities, our belongings," she paused and her voice lowered; "ourselves." She stopped and lowered her head to think for a moment, then looked at me and placed her hand over my knee. "I shouldn't say things so bluntly. I don't want you to get the idea that he was a bad person. A pessimist, most definitely, but he never was a bad person. In fact, your uncle was the entire reason that I met Matt" I raised my brow questioningly and she told me that was Bream's first name. 
    I thought for a minute, "I thought you and Bream met at a bar?"
    "Well," she started, "We did. Your uncle and I were just finishing with an afternoon drink from our local pub. At this point, your aunt and he hadn't been together more than about three years. Which, in retrospect I guess, may be a good chunk of time." She laughed a little then continued, "No, but then, his friend had just happened to see us there, this was Matt. He sat down with your uncle and I and, at some point, your uncle left the table to go get another drink." She places her hand to the ring that was still on her finger and smiled as tears welled in her eyes; "I never thought he would become the love of my life and. . . I certainly never thought that death would bring us apart. At least. . . not like this."
    I sat unsure of how to comfort her. I eventually handed her a tissue and she wiped the mascara from under her eyes. She looked out the window as the rain came down harder.
    "Although," She paused and let the silence build, "I won't lie and say that it was all positives. Your Uncle James. . . well, while I love my brother, he secluded himself a more and more as the years went on. Hell, I'm not sure that I saw much of him before he died if I'm honest. Always hidden away in that office doing his" She paused, "well, his work. I can't tell you how many times Bream attempted to get him out of that office; to tell him that he would do whatever it was that was keeping him secluded so often but. . ." She looked at me and must've thought she was rambling. "Well, that work was his to do, not Bream's." She smiled at me and tried to change the subject; "but, hey, you shouldn't be going down into dark memories like this. Why don't we focus on the positive? Everything was so fun when we all watched you growing up." She reached out to get her tea from the table, revealing a tattoo on her wrist. As soon as I saw it, a glow emanated from my pocket with the envelope and she stopped every movement and looked from her tattoo to me.
"Is a key tattoo so uncommon?"