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“Why?” Hannah asked, clearly suspicious.
“Because if we’re running on generators, I’m going to bet we don’t want to pass the time with energy-sucking things like televisions or stereos. If you two make me sit in silence until this storm blows over, I’m going to kill you both.”
I thought I almost saw Julian crack a smile, but he just sat in one of the chairs and motioned for all the workers to drag some over as well. In total, there were eight of us, and I took the liberty of teaching them all how to play Rummy.
Everyone drifted off to sleep somewhere around two am. Cards and glasses of water had been left strewn around the library, and everyone had disappeared to where they were sleeping. The four maids had all agreed to room together, since their quarters were off-limits, and had taken the two free guest rooms on Hannah’s floor. Andrew had declined a room so the girls could have it, and was asleep on the reclining sofa in Julian’s personal living room. Hannah and Julian had each gone to their own rooms, presumably to get some sleep. I had originally gone with Hannah, but I had just laid there, eyes wide and wondering what the outside world looked like. After an hour, when sleep was still far off, I had slipped from the bed, and grabbed the small brown bag from the front of my suitcase. Not wanting to wake my friend, I slipped down the stairs in careful socked feet, my heart loud in my ears. The panic was still very much present in my mind, but I tried to drown it out with reassurances that I was safe. No one was about to kick me out or beat me for asking to be warm and dry. I passed Julian’s floor and hoped he was sleeping well.
When I reached the library, I didn’t turn on any lights or even sit in a chair. Instead, I wandered over to the wall that was made of glass, covered by massive curtains to protect the books. I slipped under the curtain, feeling the velvet slide through my fingers. I curled up in the corner where the books met the wall. Lightning illuminated the sky for a brief moment, and I wondered what that meant. I knew lightningina hurricane was a very bad thing but wasn’t sure about lightningbeforeone hit. I told myself that it wasn’t as bad. The streetlights were out, and everything after the lightning was pitch black. I could feel the cool of the glass, and the edge of the curtain, but I couldn’t see anything.
I felt the brown paper under my hands. It had long since lost any ability to crackle under my fingertips, the years having worn it soft. I pulled it open and tipped the contents into my lap. I felt the glossy edge of a photo and knew it would be useless to try and look at it. Fortunately, I knew the contents like the back of my hand. A couple of pieces of paper under the photo stuck to my fingers like they were searching for me, and I could feel the creases where I had folded it time and again. I opened it and ran my hand over the gentle grooves left in perfect cursive by a rushed pen. I knew it by heart and heard the words in my head, even with my eyes closed.
My darling Evelyn,
When you are given this letter, I will be dead. At least, I hope no one gave it to you beforehand, because I want you to have something that is solely from me after I am gone. Things are going to be difficult now. I tried to leave your father, I really did, but I would have lost you too. It was selfish of me, but you can’t blame me for being selfish. You are all I have in the world. I’d have given up this battle a long time ago if I didn’t have you to live for.
From day one, you were the truest love I have ever had. I need you to know that so that when he tells you that you killed me, you know that you didn’t. I signed my own death warrant on the day I decided I couldn’t live without you.
Evelyn, you are brilliant. I can already see that in the way you speak, in the way you listen. I could not have asked for a better daughter, and I never will. I know that as sure as one day soon the sun will rise without me in it, things will be hard. I need you to keep yourself safe, darling. I trust in you and your brilliance to manage that. Already, I can see that your father will find solace in the bottom of a bottle. He can be dangerous and stupid when he does that. To him, I am already gone. I died when I was given the diagnosis, and when I refused treatment because of the precious life that was growing inside of me. Nothing I say will convince him that you are not to blame, and I am worried that he will take out all his anger and sadness on you. The minute you can, I want you to get out.
Get out of Portland, get out of Oregon. Get as far away as you can, and live a phenomenally beautiful life. A life as beautiful, and brilliant, and just as damn fantastic as you are. I will be watching, and I expect adventures, the likes of which people will write books about. I want you to fall in love with the right person, not just the person that fills the gap and will leave. I want you to love and be loved and live like I am right by your side, okay? Have enough adventures for the two of us, and I will keep living beside you.
I will never be able to say how sorry I am for leaving you alone in the world. Nor will I be able to tell you how much I love you, how much losing my life has been worth it to see you grow up for the last seven years. You are valuable beyond words, and remember, you are my one, truest love.
All my love and then some,
Mommy xoxo ?
I had struggled in school up until the point my mother died, and when I received the letter, I learned to read. A few years late, but the words became more important than any spelling test had ever been before. I fumbled with the last item in the bag. It was a small glass vial, beautiful in its simplicity, with a golden band as the only detail in the center of the bottle. My mother’s wedding ring, with the bottle blown around it, custom made. Inside contained the tiny part of my mother that I had managed to sneak from the cardboard box before my father had her buried in a cemetery that we never visited. At least, I never visited. The bottle was strung onto a long, silver chain. When I wore it, it hung to the valley between my breasts. I rarely wore it though, for fear of losing or breaking it.
“Mom,” I whispered to the raging sky, “What do I do?”
I waited for an answer, but of course there was none.
“I’m scared that I’m falling in love with a man that could maybe love me back. I already have found love though, the best kind, like the way you loved me. It’s my friend, Mom. She’s his daughter. I can’t bear to give either of them up, but I don’t know how to carry on living in this kind of limbo.”
Lightning forked down, arcing to somewhere else in the city, and for a moment, I thought I saw an answer in the New York sky, telling me that even if she couldn’t answer, my mother was listening.
Chapter Eight
Evelyn
It ended up taking three days before it was safe enough to go outside.
Rather, it took three days before Julian allowed me to step outside. It itched under my skin that he could tell me what to do when he wasn’t even my boyfriend. Nevertheless, I listened to him because it helped Hannah relax. She confided in me that he seemed like he was accepting me, finally, and I laughed with her about it. Internally, my heart was breaking, because I knew it meant he was moving on.
I knew now that when Julian was at his most withdrawn and severe, that was when he was feeling things the most. I wanted to ask him about it, I wanted to find out if the reasons for his more welcoming presence could be more painful than the rudeness I had agonized about.
I stepped out into a still wet and dismal day, but wasn’t swept off my feet. Instead of taking the subway, Julian had demanded that I make use of the chauffeur I hadn’t even known they had. His tone brooked no argument, and I hadn’t made one. I slid into the plush back seat of the limousine, and wondered if that was how Julian always traveled to and from work. There was a privacy screen between the driver and myself, and I felt a bit cut off from the world. I didn’t like it particularly, but it appeared to put the driver on edge when I rolled the screen down, so it stayed up. He took me to my apartment, suitcase and all, and left me there.
My building looked a little worse for wear. Windows had been bashed in, and a few bricks had popped out from the side of the building. I didn’t have to push in the perpetually broken door, because it was flat out gone. The entryway was swimming in a few centimeters of brackish water, and I grimaced at the feeling of it seeping into the sneakers I was wearing. I took the stairs like always, and knew that things were wrong the moment I stepped onto my floor. There were four doors on this floor, and there was water here as well, even though we were off the ground. Only one of the doors was left unscathed, and it wasn’t mine. Two others looked like they’d taken a battering, and mine was the most pitiful of all. It was hanging off its hinges, trapped almost sideways in the doorway. There were splintered cracks running the length of it like someone had tried to batter it down from the inside. Scared, I pushed it open and stepped into the apartment.
I dropped my suitcase, and my heart fell with it onto the floor. My sofa, the awesome cheap find that I had sat on for too many nights to count, had been blown over, and was resting right behind the door. It was clear that that was what had smashed into the door. None of my windows had survived, and under the solid inch of water flooding the place, I could feel glass crunching beneath my feet. My bed had only scooted a few feet but was blocking the bathroom. That’s where the water was coming from. I climbed over my headboard to see that the toilet had been smashed by a tree branch taking up the width of my tiny bathroom. It was leaking water and presumably had been for as long as it took me to return after the incident. I collapsed on my bed. It was too much. The sheets were damp from the rain, so I crawled under them and stared around at the first home I could remember since my mother died. I knew it was unlivable right now, and who knew how long it would be like that? I had spent my savings on the deposit for the place, and was barely making rent as it was. My phone rang, and with a heavy heart, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Evelyn,”said the familiar voice of my boss, Nick,“Something happened to the cafe.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, with a feeling of dread seeping into my heart.
