EPILOGUE
ROSE
The thing about turning eighteen is that you expect something big to change. I wake up on the morning of my birthday and everything is
the same. Dad is downstairs listening to golden oldies on the radio.
The neighbors are out in their garden pruning the rose bushes. I’m laid on my back wondering if anything interesting is ever going to happen to me.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s all I get. One exciting event when I’m sixteen and I nearly get shipped off to another country. My shrink still doesn’t believe that it hasn’t affected me.
It’s been two years and I think she’s still waiting for some delayed shock to kick in. After a couple of sessions I felt like lying, pretending I wake up with nightmares, reliving the whole thing.
It’s not like much even happened to me. I went to the warehouse willingly, stupidly, as it turned out. I thought I was there to help Amelia. She’s the one who went through hell and came out the other side. Then I was in a shipping container and then I wasn’t. Not much more to it.
I look over at the photo on my bedside table. It’s Amelia in her wedding dress. She’s throwing balls for the dogs at the shelter. Leo is laughing next to her, and it’s my favorite photo of the two of them.
She’s coming back soon. The first year of veterinarian school is almost over. It’ll be cool to catch up, find out how much she’s learned. I can show her how the shelter’s going. She left me in charge while she was away. We have the money for a couple of employees, so I get some time off. Like today.
Actually, we have the money for lots. I saw the accounts. We have over a million in there. I don’t know where it came from, but I’m glad it’s there. We can do things properly now. Already, the place is looking better. The leaks are fixed, the rust is gone. It’s all good.
I head downstairs and my dad’s got a gift-wrapped something or other on the kitchen table. “Happy birthday,” he says, tapping the gift. “Afraid I forgot to get you anything.”
“Hilarious,” I reply. I tear open the wrapper and there’s a laptop computer in there. “How could you afford this?” I ask, sliding my hand over the keys.
“Saved up,” he replies. “How are you going to apply for those grants without a decent computer to do it?”
“Thank you so much,” I say, throwing my arms around him and holding him tight. I pull away and his eyes are glassy. “What?” I ask. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m all right.”
“No, go on. What’s wrong?”
“I just wish your mother was still here to see this. Our little girl’s an adult.”
“Technically. I’m not getting rid of The Simpsons duvet cover though.”
“Of course not. Oh, I almost forgot. This is from your mother.”
He slides an envelope across the table. I look down and he’s right. It’s her handwriting, shaky, written near the end. “Seriously?” I ask, feeling a lump in my throat.
“Just open it,” he says.
I tear open the envelope. Inside is a letter and a key. “Dearest Rose,” it begins. “I know you’ll be a good person. I know you’ll do great things in life. I’m sorry I won’t be around to see it, but at least this way I don’t have to put up with that awful rock music you insist on playing while you do your homework.”
I look up at Dad. He’s headed for the sink and is washing up, his shoulders hunched. He never likes me to see him cry. I turn back to the letter. “I couldn’t tell you this before, but you’ve got a nest egg waiting for you. Safety deposit box two-seven-four in the Grand National Bank.
“Spend it wisely. Know that you were always loved and always will be. Whatever you do, I’ll be watching. And listening so try some classical, please. You might even like it. Love, Mom.”
I read the letter through again and then blink away tears. I look at the key and then see my father looking at me. “Want to read it?” I ask him.
“It was for you, not me,” he says. “Whatever she wanted to tell you, she has. I’m going out.”
I know he’s on the verge of tears. He grabs his coat and heads out the door, leaving me looking down at the key. A nest egg. For me. Could it be enough for me to go to college? Or to pay off the mortgage on this place?
“Dad’s been struggling since his back gave out. Difficult to take sick days when you’re a fisherman. The bank’s been breathing down our necks for a while. What I need is for the nest egg to be enough to help him out. That would be good.
I’ve got the rest of the day off, but it’s Sunday. I doubt the bank’s open. A quick Internet search on my shiny new laptop confirms it. I’ll have to go in tomorrow.
I close the laptop and head down to the beach. I’m going to relax for a few hours, soak up the sun and read. My favorite hobby. A good book and headphones in my ears. Nothing to worry about. Perfect.
I see Leo’s boat out on the water. He’s back in town, ready for Amelia coming back. He’s kept an eye on me for a while. They both have. Dad’s away on the water a lot and they see me as their surrogate child.
Not for long, though. Amelia plans to pass her course and then get started on a family. I can’t imagine loving anyone enough to start a family with them. I can’t imagine loving anyone at all.
It’s not that I don’t believe in the concept. It’s just not something that’s ever hit me. I’ve had crushes on a few boys over the years, but nothing more than that. Been treated like shit by the few I ever got close to, so fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.
It’s not like there’s any rush, anyway. I’m only eighteen. I’ve got my entire life ahead of me.
I lay back on my towel and lift the Kindle above my eyes. I read, shutting out the world and losing myself in the book. Before I know it, I’m asleep. In my dream, my mom’s by my side in the bank vault.
She’s passing me the key and pressing it into my palm, wrapping her hand around mine. “This will change your life,” she’s saying. “You just watch.”
Turns out she’s right. Just not in the way I would ever have imagined.
The next day I go to the bank with the key in my hand. My mom left details about me and once I’ve shown my driving license, they take me downstairs to the vault.
There’s the box. The clerk pulls it out and places it on the table. “Press that buzzer when you’re done,” he says before leaving, pulling a curtain across as he goes.
I’m left alone. I put the key in the box and turn it. I pull the box open. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it’s not a casino chip. That’s all that’s in the box. A single chip with 10, 000 written on it. Is that my nest egg?
I pocket the chip and then close the box. I press the buzzer and wait. The clerk returns a minute later, all smiles. “Finished?” he asks. “Anything else we can do for you?”
“No, thank you,” I say. I’ve only one question in my mind. Why would my mother have a casino chip? She never gambled a day in her life.
Maybe dad will know. I decide I better go home and ask him. If nothing else, that’s ten thousand I can cash in. If it’s genuine, of course. He’ll know that too. He used to be a janitor up there, years ago.
I walk out of the bank into the sunshine and make my way home. Time to find out what all this is about.