• Chapter 1

    Cousin Lucinda's over-sized head smashed into my shoulder...again. I knew that she was a psychological mess but head butting me would not solve her problems. Her sobbing forced its way into my ears and resounded off of the walls of my mind, so much so that I thought I would go deaf. The eulogist continued nonetheless, oblivious to the fact that I couldn't hear a damn word he was saying and Cousin Lucinda was asking for a foot in her face. I stood there though, with a featureless face until the ceremony was over. Afterwards, other family members began to offer some bills and personal checks to the late Aunt Sophie's husband, Uncle Gary. I decided that holding up the massive head of their daughter was payment enough, besides, the old biddy was in the ground now. She wouldn't care if a poor niece of hers didn't give any money, and she absolutely would not need it where she was going. Shrugging off the fat Lucinda I did, however, take a bottled water out of my purse and hand it to Uncle Gary, she would need that where she was going.
    "Bless you Hope, I sure am glad you decided to come today," the bear of a man said. His huge paw came to bear on my shoulder, the same one that Lucinda had bruised (was it a family trait?). "I know we all feel the loss of my dear Sophie and nothin' can replace her, but she wants us to move on hun, she wants us to keep goin'." A solemn tear fell from the bear's eye. I felt kind of bad that my eyes were Sahara dry, but I knew that Uncle Gary's speech was more for himself than it was for me. I pretended to flatten my skirt and nodded innocently.
    Then, Uncle Gary's eyes opened wide, like he had just spotted a large salmon leaping up from the rushing river, "Aunt Sophie wanted you to have sumthin'," he reached into his pocket and produced a brown, ruffled (and quite dirty) envelope, he pushed it into my hands and then wiped his nose with the back of his paw. "Not sure what it is, but you're supposed to have it, I found it in her bedside drawer." I turned the envelope over in my hands and sure enough, my name was printed neatly on the front in Aunt Sophie's handwriting "HOPE". I decided that it would be better to open the thing later and slipped it into my purse.
    "Thanks Uncle Bea..." I stopped myself, my mouth had almost betrayed me, "Uncle Gary, I'll take a look at it when I get home,"even though it would probably just become another decoration for the coffee table.
    Then another hand met my shoulder (the same shoulder!), it was my mothers. She, of course, was also a mess and she sobbed out a sentence that was completely incomprehensible. I patiently turned from Uncle Gary and raised an eyebrow at the pathetic woman. I mean, I know that that was her sister and all, but they really didn't know each other at all. In fact, last Christmas Aunt Sophie brought over a tin of macadamia nut cookies. We pretended to be very grateful for the expensive gift from their families vacation trip to Hawaii, but both me and my mother are allergic to nuts. Needless to say, my father enjoyed the entire tin, and the stomach ache that ensued soon after.
    "I said..." LOUD SOB, "...that I'll drop..." SOB, "...you off at..." SOB, "...your apartment..." A SOB THEN A WAIL, "...I need to go and pick up your father from work."
    "Leavin' so soon Mary-Ann?" Uncle Gary asked stepping forward, "I invited some of my cousins to come down and play a few songs for Soph. I reckon she'd like that." The large man looked up toward the merciless sun as another tear fell to the ground. I couldn't help but laugh, he was looking the wrong way.
    "Peter gets very cross when he is kept waiting for too long, and I can't have," SNIFFLE, "him rampaging around the house tonight." My mother had always been a wonderful actress, but for this role, she deserved an Oscar.
    Everyone said their goodbyes as mother and I clambered into the tiny Wagoneer that she had driven since the dawn of time. She started the car and as soon as we were out of earshot of the rest of the family began speaking normally. "So, do you have plans for tonight? Your father and I were going to dinner and a movie, it would be nice if our daughter joined us."
    "No thanks mom, I have a meeting at the office tonight and I don't finish until late," I murmured. This was a lie of course, my night was entirely free, but dinner and movies with old people just didn't seem that appealing. And I knew my mother wouldn't pry.
    "Oh course you do, I won't pry, but I would like to spend a little more time with you. I worry about you living all alone in the city. You know, if you want to you can always move back home."
    The very idea sickened me, I waited 24 whole years just to move out, going back was not an option. "I'm doing fine mom, I can rough it out there just fine." She turned to me with that tight-lipped mockery of a smile that she loved to conjure. Her lipstick was on a little too thick today.
    The car went too fast over a pothole and my head bumped the roof, we rode in silence all the way back to my apartment.

    * * *

    It wasn't the sunlight softly caressing my face, or the cool breeze that tiptoed over my entire body. It wasn't the large bed that encapsulated me or the deep feeling of some important task that rolled around in my gut. It was the damned alarm clock, that continued to blare and scream even after I punched the snooze button. It went on and on reminding me that life was not a nice dream in a comfy bed.
    I tossed the blankets off of the bed and lay there for a second, trying to pry my eyes open. Despite all of my attempts, my limbs would not respond. With a huge force of effort I rolled right off of the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. The wooden floors of my small one bedroom apartment were gritty and I could smell the tang of the sewers, what a welcoming morning aroma. The alarm clock screamed and screamed at me, so I brought my hand down hard on the off button, I was awake. The floor creaked as I stood up slowly and moved to the dresser, urine from last nights dinner of orange juice and crackers welled up inside of me, but seeing my reflection in the morning was somewhat of a ritual now. People usually looked their worst in the morning, but I found that I actually looked the best. After a nice, long, restful night of sleep I would look in the mirror and gaze upon not a happy face, but one that at least wasn't irritated. This would not be the case after work.
    Bags hanging under deep violet eyes, light glowing skin, a soft face, black hair that fell in waves just past the shoulder, this was Hope Ryan, this was me. The pee won the contest of will and I raced to relieve myself. The day would begin with or without me, and although I wish it were the latter, Mr. Flanagan did not pay for work that I didn't do. Hastily I threw on one of my two pant-suits (the black one), shoved down some leftovers for breakfast, and rushed to the bus station.

    * * *

    "So how was the funereal?" Kitty Cash said with a puppy dog face. Cash was my good friend, or maybe I would consider her my only friend. She was an adorable temp that was hired the same day that I became Flanagan's secretary. I'm not sure why the two of us hang out so much, but we do both catch the bus to work and we work in the same office. She doesn't seem to be able to function alone, so I hang out with her more for her own sake than anything else. Kitty Cash is an explosion of rainbows and leprechauns, a little too much for me to handle. Her very name makes people (other people) want to dance and sing in the streets, and every time she speaks a unicorn is born somewhere. Her skirt-suit was dark ash, she wore matching heels and her brown hair was up in a tight bun. But that was just the professional side, Cash always accessorized a little more than was needed. She had pink hearts laced with tiny ribbons adorning the tops of her heels and a larger version of the heart-ribbon on the pin that held her bun together. She wore a light pink lipstick and dangling pink heart earrings to match. To me, the entire ensemble looked like Sailor Moon in a sad attempt to look normal to work. I nearly gagged.
    "It was just like any other," I said with a sigh, "everyone says all the good things that they can think of about the dead person, people pretend to cry and then the family goes bankrupt from paying for it all." I sat bored at the bus stop as I had been ten minutes prior to Cash's arrival.
    "Oh," she started, sitting next to me gingerly, "so you don't miss your aunt at all?" she said, a small tear nearly forming in her eye. I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, she wanted me to be vulnerable, to break down and cry and show her that I was human.
    "Nope." I said shortly, and just in time too, the bus had rounded the corner and was approaching the stop quickly.
    We entered the bus and sat together behind an old woman and a 20lb bag of rice that sat next to her. "I did get a letter from my aunt that my uncle found though," I thought that I might as well talk to Cash about something.
    "Ooh a letter! Why, maybe its a letter of love that your aunt wrote for you! She wants to tell you how much she appreciates you as her niece! What a lovely aunt." She smiled wide and nodded, agreeing with herself as the bus got underway.
    "Well, I haven't exactly opened it yet, I don't really know what it is." I looked down at my lap, bored of this conversation already.
    "Oh, but you must open it! What if it is her last dying wishes? You must know!" She continued to nod in that strange way.
    "Cash, really, I couldn't care less what it is, the idiot's dead, who cares about some dumb letter she wrote?" Cash knew that this was her cue to be quiet, however, she didn't take it.
    "How did she pass anyway? I mean, I know that this must still be a tender subject," I had to roll my eyes, "but were you informed of what happened to her?"
    I really didn't want this conversation to continue, but not for the reason that Cash had in mind, and I didn't want her to win. "Uncle Gary told everyone at the funereal that she died in her sleep, she went 'real peaceful like'," I said, mocking Uncle Bear's accent. The bus turned a corner and continued down the long avenue before stopping at a red light.
    Cash laughed at the accent, "That was the liveliest thing I've ever seen you do!" she continued to giggle, then her face dropped, "wait," she said suddenly, "how old is your mother?"
    "38...why?" I looked at her quizzically, that was quite the dramatic change of topic.
    "Because that would make your aunt 42 when she passed right? Isn't that a little young to just go in your sleep?" This was more than just ponies coming out of Cash's butt, this was pure concern.
    "I never thought about it, but you're right, that is strange..." I was caught off-guard. How could Aunt Sophie die at 42 in her sleep. Maybe the letter was important, maybe it would explain it. "Hey, Cash, what are you doing after work today?" I asked with a little bit of innocence.
    "Why nothing my good friend, why do you ask?"
    "Well, I was thinking we could go get some dinner and then go to my place and take a look at that letter, two heads are better than one after all." I laughed nervously, being happy was harder than it looked.
    "That sounds like a splendid idea! We can do what best friends do!" She giggled again as the bus came to a halt in front of the Fria Building, where we worked. "Together, we will crack the case of your mysterious Auntie's passing!" She stood to get off of the bus, "I wonder what I should wear..."


    * * *

    I tinkled my glass again, I had been staring at ice for the last ten minutes. It was a good thing, at least, that the food hadn't come yet, I really think I would have choked and died by now. This waiter was definitely NOT getting a tip. The restaurant was called "The Garden Hombre" and it was supposedly the best Mexican food in town, according to Cash. We sat and ordered and waited ten minutes for water. Now we found ourselves waiting (again!) for our food. The place was horrible.
    "I know that sour look Ms. Hope, you know it isn't healthy to be angry all the time." Cash began, she loved to hear herself talk, "Its our friend-time, let's enjoy it."
    I just grunted and picked up the glass again. It was about time to get some water. As soon as one of the waiters walked by the table I took the initiative. "HOLA!" I yelled as festively as I could. "Can I get some WATERA in my GLASSA?!" I stared wild-eyed and deranged at the waiter.
    "You know," Cash said gingerly, "adding 'A' at the end of key words in a sentence doesn't make it Spanish," my gaze found her and her eyes went down to her glass of ice.
    "Y-y-yes ma'am, I'll get it right away," the waiter stammered, and walked quickly through the swinging door that lead to the kitchen.
    I looked back at Cash, this was not a very good dinner, Cash and I had had dinners together before, but for some reason, this one seemed a lot more tense and strange. Every second felt like an hour. I tapped the table with my index finger repeatedly and sighed heavily. Cash just smiled again and tipped one of the ice cubes into her mouth.
    Our food arrived what seemed like hours later, and the two of us got to eating. "So where do you live anyway Hope? I've never been to your residence before," she said, spooning a small bit of Spanish rice into her mouth.
    "I live on Bank and Westmill, one block from the bus stop. It isn't that far, it should only be a five minute bus ride from here." I shoveled some beef and cheese into my mouth a la Shrek and we finished our meal in silence. Dinner seemed a little unnecessary but I felt like I needed Cash for something. Like she could help me with Aunt Sophie's death. It was a slight feeling, but I knew never to ignore my gut, it was the only voice that didn't annoy me.
    We got home at around 7:30 that night. I opened the door and gave her the grand tour of my one-room apartment, followed by the grand tour of the chair that she was not allowed to leave. "Thank you very much!" She sang, "Alright, lets get to it."
    I stared at the ugly brown envelope that Uncle Bear handed me only the day before, picked it up off the table and held it in my hands. I found myself quivering a little bit. I placed my thumb under the seal and with very little effort it popped open. This letter might be the clue to why Aunt Sophie died so soon, and in her sleep. Why she had always been the meanest and strangest of relatives, but decided to write one of the people she knew the least a letter. Why mom and her never really understood each other. I could have been over thinking, but I soon found out that I wasn't. I took out the piece of paper that the letter was written on, and what I read changed my life forever. This is where the story begins.