“Mary was not a particularly forgetful person. She didn’t usually forget the chicken in the oven, or forget what time her dentist appointment was, or forget to take her fork out of her bowl before she put it in the microwave. But this time, she did.

“That’s why she’s dead. That’s why our house burned down. The one we rented together, the one the landlord is now suing me on.

“Now, I could go on and tell you more about Mary, but you probably either don’t care, or you already know everything about her - God knows she loved to talk - and wished you didn’t.

“So I think it’s time we all went and enjoyed some cake.”

Caleb got down from the lectern and walked out of the room. Mary’s urn had been sitting on the table next to him, and it was distracting. Even in death, Mary had insisted on glitter. Sometimes Caleb would walk into the TV room, or the kitchen, or the backyard and would mistake Mary for some strange, jabbering disco ball. She certainly had the figure for it.

The urn had actually been in her will - she wanted to be cremated, and wanted her urn to be sparkly. She hadn’t said one word about him, despite having lived together for five years. The will had been written a month after he proposed. Yes, they broke off the engagement a month after that, but still. He should have been in there somewhere.

Caleb walked across the hall into the reception room. He was planning on getting that cake. The funeral was being held in Mary’s old church. Another thing in her will. Apparently she had gone there all her life until she met Caleb. He wondered why she stopped.

He had just gotten a slice of cake - vanilla and chocolate marble - and sat down to enjoy it, when a girl walked up to him.

“Caleb, right?” she asked. Caleb nodded. “I’m Abbie.” She stuck out her hand. Caleb put down his fork and shook it.

“Who are you, a cousin?” Mary had talked about her extended family before, but Caleb had never met them. He thought they were all older, though. Abbie looked about twelve. Maybe she just had a young face.

Abbie laughed as she shook her head and wiped her hand on a Kleenex that seemed to appear out of thin air. Had his hand been clammy? “No. I worked with her.” She sat down next to him and he scooted away a little. “You two were engaged, right?”

“Oh, we were. We broke it off almost a year ago.”

“Oh.” Abbie looked awkward now. Caleb would have felt bad for her, but he was too busy feeling bad for himself. “Why? I mean, she talked about you all the time.”

“Hm. Don’t see why you need to know.”

Caleb got up and walked to a quieter part of the room, where he could properly enjoy his cake.

Abbie watched Caleb walk away. She hadn’t meant to upset him. She was just genuinely curious. Mary had always talked about Caleb like he was a god or something. Practically worshiped the ground he walked on. She wanted to know if Caleb or Mary had broken the engagement off. She couldn’t see it being Mary.

Not that Abbie was particularly close to Mary. Sure, they had worked at Sew What? together, but they hadn’t been close.

Abbie enjoyed the cake. It was a little sweet for her taste, but then again, Mary had been, too. Not that she had eaten Mary - she wasn’t a cannibal. (Unless you counted church when she was little - she was raised Catholic, and her mom had taught her the whole transubstantiation thing, how the little wafers were “actually Jesus.” Abbie didn’t really know what to make of that, though. She still hadn’t eaten Mary.)

No, Mary had just been a bit… overbearing at times. You learned to deal with it, even enjoy it over time, but it was an acquired taste. You always thought, If she wasn’t so loud, if she wasn’t so excitable, if she wasn’t so… sweet. No, she didn’t think Mary had broken off the engagement.

Abbie went home after the cake. She hadn’t known anyone there except Caleb, and they had just met. It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to anyone, let alone her, so she went home. She ate dinner, watched a sitcom that she had never seen the first season of, and went to bed. What else was she supposed to do?

She woke up when her girlfriend came in - she worked the late shift at Dairy Queen, and Abbie went to bed early. When she laid down next to her, Abbie rolled over and hugged her, then promptly fell back asleep.

What else was she supposed to do?

She woke up again at quarter to four in the morning with cramps. She got up, got some Tylenol, and laid down on the couch. She opened her eyes again at quarter past four and decided to get up.

What else was she supposed to do?

She couldn’t get past the thought of Caleb and Mary’s broken-off engagement. Why had it happened? They had seemed so good together, or at least Mary had made it seem that way. But Caleb’s speech had made it seem the opposite. It kept bouncing around her head.

…usually forget the chicken in the oven, or forget what time her dentist appointment was, or forget to… the landlord is now suing me… or you already know everything about her and wished you didn’t.

It was sad, really. They had worked together for years, and she didn’t even know Mary’s favorite color.

Abbie started moving as the sun came up. She got up, got a cup of coffee, and walked to work. She had to get paid, after all. It was Sunday - their least busy day. But that meant she could read and maybe take a nap in the back room if she wanted to.

She got to Sew What?, settled herself behind the counter, and rummaged around in her bag for The Fellowship of the Ring. She loved fantasy, loved Tolkien. He girlfriend joked that she was obsessed. She had just come to Tom Bombadil when a hand tapped her shoulder and she jerked up, dropping and losing her place in the book. Damnit.

“Sorry.” It was the teenager that came on Sundays. He was quiet and rarely talked to her, but Abbie was used to seeing him around.

“Sorry,” he repeated - what was their name? Finn? “It’s just that Mary usually helps me, and, um, I was wondering if she’s here?”

“She’s dead.” It didn’t occur to Abbie to put it any other way.

“Oh.” There was a moment of silence. (Maybe) Finn looked like they wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“Her house burned down. She was in it.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” (Maybe) Fin looked ready to cry.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“N- yeah, that’d be good.” Abbie got up and guided them behind the counter, to the only chair in the store.

“What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

Not even close.

Oliver left the store an hour later. He had learned that Abbie was twenty-four, and had worked there for two years. He had learned that the reason Mary’s house burned down was that she left a fork in the microwave. He had done that the same day, but he’d taken it out within a couple of seconds.

He thought Abbie was a little strange. He noticed Abbie wiped her hands a lot. When she’d guided Oliver to sit down, after he sat, she pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and wiped her hands. She picked her book up off the ground. Wiped her hands. Moved a stack of paper so she could sit on the counter. Wiped her hands.

Oliver asked her about it.

“Oh, just a habit I have. A little crazy, but it keeps me sane.”

But Abbie was nice, too. She asked Oliver about himself. What school he went to (Woodbridge High, he was a junior), What his favorite color was (purple), and why he came to the shop so often (he ran an Etsy account that was mostly bucket hats and bags).

Abbie told Oliver about Caleb, and his speech.

“I hope the cake was good, then,” Oliver said.

“Yeah, it was fine. A little sweet.” They sat in silence for a moment.

“I met Caleb, once before,” he told her.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was like, six months ago. I went to Joanne’s to get a zipper. Normally I don’t like going there, but you were out of zippers here. I ran into Mary and Caleb. She introduced us. He seemed pretty nice. Said they were there to pick out curtains for a nursery, that they were pregnant. I didn’t see why they couldn’t get the fabric here, but they said there was a specific one there that they wanted.”

“Mary must’ve had a miscarriage.”

“Oh.” Abbie was very blunt. It sort of slapped Oliver in the face. He wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten to that conclusion.

“Wonder if that’s why they broke up.”

“They broke up?” he asked.

“Yeah. I couldn’t figure out why, but that would make sense.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah.”

Oliver stopped at the bus stop, sat down on the bench. He wasn’t sad, not really. Mary was dead, but, then again, she was a woman Oliver saw once a week. A vague figure, nothing more.

Besides, he had to get home - it was funny actually. Well, ironic, at least. He had a younger cousin, Mary, who was turning twelve today.

Oliver was looking forward to the cake - vanilla and chocolate marble.