Cute & Sexy Indian Aunty
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve arranged it. Come.”She led me into the room. The room where my momma had died. It was July of 1987. Caroline Wyatt was only 55-years-old. She looked to be asleep, only that. But there was no movement or breathing. Penelope pulled a chair up next to the bed. I sat in it.I don’t know how long we were there, but it was a while. Eventually, somehow, she got me home. We didn’t talk much. We would be, maybe tomorrow, but today, no.Everyone from the salon from where she had worked for so many years attended the funeral, even some long-time customers. The wake was at her house, my house now, I guess. I’d be selling it: too many memories for me to keep it.The wake ended in the early evening, and Penelope and I headed home and made plans for the following days. We’d be preparing the house for sale. Packing up mom’s stuff: some of it to donate to the Salvation Army or Goodwill. Then we, especially me, would be remembering and weeping and getting on with our lives.Mom had. I decided to wear a suit with no tie, figuring it would fit in with LA's casual atmosphere. We met in the lobby and headed out to the limo. I made sure to be photographed kissing Tonya on the cheek.We were met at the entrance to the restaurant by the manager, and shown to a private booth. It turned out that the network would be paying for all of our meals on the trip. I ordered filet mignon with lobster mashed potatoes, David had Chilean sea bass, and Tonya had a rack of lamb. The food was actually pretty substantial, and a lot better than anything else I'd ever had on someone else's dime.After dinner, I turned in early and looked over the script before heading to bed. The next morning, I woke up early and went over to Tonya's room. We messed up the bed in a way that we hoped would be suggestive of sex and ordered breakfast from room service. I changed into a bathroom and Tonya took her top off. When the food got there I opened the door. According to plan, Tonya shrieked and ran into.
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