“How to Mourn a Life” a Short Story by Nadia Misir
By Nadia Misir | Kweli Journal
Clarice Ramkissoon’s bedroom was a crime scene and her granddaughter Savita now stood in the middle of it, guilty as sin and six days sober. The body had been removed, the evidence hidden. An hour ago, the walls had been wiped down with vinegar and the floors scrubbed clean with rose water. All that remained of Clarice’s death was a missing vial of Roxanol. A tight knot of guilt grew roots inside of Savita’s stomach as she tried not to think about downing her grandfather’s last bottle of Johnnie Walker. He had taught her never to chase her whiskey with regret.
“You don’t have to drink like it’s your inheritance,” Akash had teased her on their third date, back when her decisions weren’t about heeding her grandmother’s last wishes, but about how to stay sober for her meetings. Savita could almost feel his finger tracing the oblong purple birthmark on her hip. She forced backwaas Akash to the corners of her mind. Losing him was trivial compared to the loss of both her grandfather and grandmother in the same year. Cheddi to prostate cancer and her sweet Clarice to lung disease.
“Ready to come out of hiding?” Malia asked, throwing a set of car keys to her cousin from the doorway. The word hiding snapped at Savita’s face like a taut rubber band. She inquired about the whereabouts of the missing whiskey bottle. Malia gently reminded her about the missing vial, about the importance of remaining sober at least until Clarice was cremated.
Read the rest of the story at Kweli Journal.
