The Refuge

Chapter 8

Antique things have an appreciation and worth. Something can be old, but it can be timeless; therefore, it becomes an antique. If this antique is preserved and deemed precious, it could be passed down as a family heirloom.”
                           — CeeLo Green

Ramona hummed quietly to herself as she fixed herself a warming cup of black tea. Of course, unlike her mom and brother, who would simply boil some water, pour it over a teabag, and call it good, Ramona preferred to dress her drink up a bit more. She’d already scattered a teaspoon of sugar in the bottom of the cup as the kettle boiled, and just a drop or of vanilla extract would do nicely to add some extra flavor. 

Buzz hovered nearby Ramona as she worked, silently watching her with its front-mounted camera lens that vaguely resembled an eye. The gentle whir of its four propellers gradually became drowned out by the rumbling kettle that had almost reached its full boil. 

When the kettle did begin to whistle, Ramona snatched it off the stovetop and poured it into her cup. She made sure to stir the sugar and vanilla into the darkening tea for equal distribution of flavor. Then, deciding she lacked only one thing, she turned to Buzz. 

“Grab the cream, would you?” she asked nicely. 

Buzz immediately drifted over to the fridge, easing it open with a slender hand of three metal fingers and an unmoving thumb. It grabbed the carton of cream almost too tightly in its vice-like appendage before placing it lightly on the counter beside Ramona’s mug. 

Ramona didn’t even bother thanking the drone, as it wouldn’t respond anyway. And besides, who thanked a car for driving or a fan for blowing wind? She stirred in a spoon of cream and took a sip. Instantly, a gratified smile crossed Ramona’s face, and she closed her silvery blue eyes in pleasure. 

Rounding the corner to exit the kitchen and enter the dining room, Ramona sipped her newly-made tea and made for the living room. And when she got there, she paused in confusion, spotting her mom standing to one side of the couch and fiddling with a tape dispenser. When she stepped closer, Ramona laid eyes on a cardboard box teetering on the couch’s arm. 

“What’ve you got going here, Mom?” Ramona asked, quirking one of her dark brows. 

Lolita glanced up with a tired smile. “Just packing some things to sell. We could use the extra money.” 

“Ah, makes sense. Can I take a peek?” 

“I’ve almost got it packed, dear. You’d be undoing my work.” 

Ramona scoffed and set her tea down on a nearby stool. “I’ll just help you repack it; no problem.” 

Lolita still didn’t look quite convinced, but she made no move to stop her daughter. Ramona pulled one of the box’s cardboard flaps aside, strangely excited to behold what was inside. Lo and behold, an array of glittering and gleaming things. All manner of jewelry, timepieces, and even a few old books nestled to one side. 

To Ramona, however, these weren’t just things in her mother’s box. They were shiny and shimmering treasures, reminders of their family’s greatest memories and dearest moments. And Lolita saw fit to just sell them like they were nothing but old shoes? 

“Mom…why would you sell this stuff?” 

“I already told you, we could use some extra money. I’ve been making dresses and Gael’s been hunting, but it seems every day, things cost more. A little financial cushion wouldn’t hurt anybody.” 

Ramona fished out a pearl necklace while planting her other hand on her hip. “Would Grandma be fine with you just getting rid of this?” 

“She’s in a better place now,” Lolita answered softly. “Good Lord’s put a crown on her head, so I hardly think a little necklace matters much to her now.”