“No, he never got over her accident, but at least he’s with her in heaven.” I offered him a weak smile, hoping he would just leave. I wanted to be alone now with my grief and the boxes.
“He blamed himself, you know,” he continued and shook his head. “I told him he couldn’t have known your mother would lose control of the car.” His eyes peered into mine and there was an odd light in them I hadn’t seen before. I shivered slightly at his intensity, not understanding why he was starting to look like a rookie CIA agent.
“Yeah, it wasn’t his fault.”
“He was supposed to meet her and drive her home.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Why was he going on about my mother’s death? This was not the time for him to be rubbing salt into my wounds. Yes, both my parents were now dead. Yes, I was alone.
“That’s why he carried so much guilt. He thought she’d still be alive if he had just left work earlier and met her like he was supposed to.”
“He never told me that.” I sighed, beginning to understand why my father had always walked around with a slight air of regret.
“There was much he kept to himself. Way too much,” Larry said, and took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared ahead of him. “But I should go. I have a conference call in thirty minutes. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I nodded and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks.” As he walked out of my apartment, I sat down on the couch and stared at the two boxes in front of me. They were fairly old and battered. I was scared that a cockroach would run out of one of the boxes when I opened it. My body trembled in restrained grief as I sat and tried to ignore the desire to cry. I was all by myself now. Not that there hadn’t been other times that I’d felt all alone. My father had been pretty distant when I was growing up, not because he didn’t love me but because he was consumed with grief over my mother’s death. He hadn’t been a bad father, but he hadn’t been everything I’d needed.
I think he realized in his last days that he hadn’t been the best father he could have been. I’d seen the regret and pain in his eyes as I desperately begged him not to leave me.
“Stop it, Bianca,” I muttered to myself and jumped up off of the couch. I was not going to let myself dwell on my father’s death. It wouldn’t help. Not at all. I stared at the boxes for a few more seconds and then went to my bedroom. I couldn’t deal with them now. I needed to think about something else for a few hours. I walked around my apartment, quickly checking to make sure all the windows were closed, and then made sure the front door was double-locked as I always did. I collapsed on my bed and closed my eyes and tried to think about something happy, but no thoughts would come. Thankfully, sleep found me within minutes and I was able to escape the numbness of my brain.
*
“You can do this, Bianca.” I shook my damp hair and toweled it dry as I walked into my living room the next morning. I felt refreshed after a solid ten hours of sleep and a cold shower. I could hear my phone beeping with messages. I knew that my best friend, Rosie, was worried about me. I’d rarely spoken to her since my father had gotten sick. It wasn’t because I didn’t love her and our friendship, but I was naturally more of a solitary person, especially when emotional events were happening. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up learning to fend for yourself.
The brown boxes beckoned to me from the coffee table. They didn’t seem so full of death and depression by the light of the day. I turned on the TV and listened to the arguing ladies of The View as I bravely lifted the closest box by its side. I stepped back quickly in case a cockroach or mouse came running out. My heart was beating rapidly and I could feel a sense of excitement in my bones. What could my father have left me? Did he have a secret stash of money that he’d never told anyone about? Or maybe he had hidden away lots of family photographs from when I was younger. My curiosity couldn’t wait any longer and I pulled the other side of the box open to reveal—a pile of papers. I stared into the box in disappointment. Picking up a yellow form at the top of the pile, I started to read aloud: “The Director of the United States Patent & Trademark Office has received an application for a patent for a new and useful invention. The title and description of the invention are enclosed. The requirements of law have been complied with, and it has been determined that a patent on the invention shall be granted under the law . . . blah, blah, blah.” I stopped reading and put the paper back in the box with a sigh. Boring. I quickly opened the other box and again took a step back to avoid any nasty little bugs that might have been waiting to escape. When the coast was clear, I peered inside, and this time my heart stopped. There was an envelope on top of a small box and some more papers, and this envelope was made out to me.
My dad had left me a letter! I grabbed it eagerly, opening it carefully so that the envelope and letter weren’t ripped. I sat down on the couch again to read.