Unsuspecting Dreamer

Chapter 4 Drowning

I stand at the freshly filled grave, staring at the headstone. 'Meredith Jane Helget- 1968-2014'. I tell myself for the billionth time, 'this is not real.' I nod, agreeing with myself. 'You are not all alone, you are dreaming. In a minute your alarm will go off and this will all be over.' I while I think I wander around, finding all of the people I know, mom's parents- both gone before I was born. My little brother- didn't make it past his first year. My uncle Louie and aunt Madge- 3 years ago, a fire.

Alone. The word rings in my ears. I close my eyes, wishing away the feeling, but there is no escape. This is my reality.

I look at my watch, a gift from my mother, another reminder of her. My most prized object she left besides her wedding ring. I'm almost late for work. I've been picking up every shift that comes along. I'm still paying off almost 2 years of college that I will never finish. I don't want to. I was only doing it because mom expected it.

The Diner also offers escape. My notebooks are filling with depression and death, sadness and pain. At work I try my hardest to pretend I am happy. Well-wishers and sympathy comments are starting to become less frequent. Everything is returning to normal, the world moves on minus one person.

I get into my car, a beat up Camaro that my dad and I semi restored when I turned 16. He was supposed to finish it with me when I earned the money, but the cancer came back and he split before that happened. At least it runs... and has heat. A pile of mail sits on the passenger seat, mom's mail, all unopened. A letter from HIM sits right on top, starring at me. I slam the door on it and hurry into the Diner, getting lost for a few fast hours in a greasy numbness.

-----

I sigh, walking through the door of my apartment. I moved in after mom decided to go into the assisted living home. Selling the house helped pay for her medical bills, plus it knocked out some debt of my own. It's small but easy on the bank account, rent is cheap in a small town. One thing I allow myself to be grateful for.

Sifting through my mail and finding little worth opening, I am about to toss it to the side, ready to lose myself in my notebooks. Before I do, however, the last piece catches my eye. It is from the bank, and it is marked "urgent." I open it and glance over the letter, getting more and more confused. There is a copy of my mother's will, sent by the attorney. But nothing else makes any sense to me. I am done thinking for tonight, I don't even think I can handle a notebook right now. I put it on the growing stack of unopened mail on my kitchen table. I'll deal with it tomorrow. Right now all I want is a hot shower and a long night of sleep.

In the morning I wake draped in sadness, same as I have for the past week, my bones weigh heavy with depression. I manage to roll over and grab my phone as the alarm goes off for the fifth or sixth time. One missed call and one new voice mail. I put it on speaker and hold it away from my head, it doesn't matter it's still too loud for this early.

"Hello Ms. Helget, this is Sadie from Wells Fargo bank. I am calling because we have some financial matters to discuss regarding your mother's account. Please feel free to call me at any time or come into our office between 8 and 5 to settle these matters." 'Time: 8:07'

I delete the message and push myself out of bed. I have nothing to do today. I turn on my iPod dock and start Pandora, trying to motivate myself to clean up the apartment. I've been letting it go for months now, not that it matters; no one else sees it.

I work myself into a rhythm where nothing exists but the music and the mess- that is until 'Cry With You' plays. Hunter's tender voice reaches through my emotional block and reveals my broken and bloodied heart.
🎶
"You're not alone"
🎶
But I am
🎶
"I'll listen till your tears give out"
🎶
Will they ever?
🎶
"You're safe and sound, I swear that I won't let you down"
🎶
Thanks Hunter, thanks
🎶
"What's hurting you I, I feel it too"
🎶
Doubtful
🎶
"I mean it when I say
When you cry, I cry with you"
🎶
I take in a ragged breath, sitting on the floor in front of my sink, arms wrapped around my knees, tears pouring out of my eyes. My wails drowning out whatever song just came on. 'Thanks Hunter.' I think. Now I can't stop. A half an hour later the tears are all gone and I'm left with a bad headache, and an empty feeling I can't ignore, it tears at me like a hungry beast, threatening to devour me from the inside out.

I need to get out of here, standing up so quickly I get a head rush I grab my coat from the chair where I flung it last night. Throwing it on, I slip on the nearest pair of shoes. Walking quickly out the door and down the stairs, I start to wander around downtown. It's a little after noon and only about 15 degrees. I walk until I can't feel my feet or my hands, or my face. When I don't think I can bear it anymore I look for a place to duck into and warm up.

I am standing in front of Wells Fargo, and something clicks in my mind. I might as well get it over with. I shrug as I walk in and up to one of the desks.

"Hello, how can I help you today?" The lady behind the desk asks, smiling.

I clear my throat, hoarse from crying and being out in the cold. "I uh...," my voice cracks, "I got a call, something to do with my mother's account."

"Okay, and what was it regarding?"

"Um... she died. Saddie was the one who called," I say the second half quickly because my voice started shaking.

"I'm sorry," the lady prompts, but I can tell it is said out of courtesy not out of sympathy. I don't really care. "Third office to the left," she gestures, "she should be available."

"Thank you'" I murmur, shuffling in the direction indicated.

The brown haired, and lanky women sees me before I reach the doorway. "Eliza, come in," she stands and invites me to sit. "Sorry, I know this is a difficult time for you. Your mom will be sorely missed." Saddie worked with my mom years ago, at the local garden shop my mom ran every summer.

I nod, not really wanting to talk. Saddie seems to understand. She keeps talking, "As you know, your mom left everything to you, but we've discovered a second account in your mother's name that has you as a cosigner for the account, so that is also yours."

"What?" It doesn't sink in. All of my mom's money is gone, it settled the doctor's bills that insurance didn't cover, and the rest was used for her funeral arrangements.

"Your mom kept an account in her maiden name, and I just wanted to get it signed over to you," Saddie dumbs it down, she seems to know I can't handle anything more.

"Okay." I can do this. "How much are we talking?" all of this for a few hundred dollars. My mom was a simple person; she never needed much.

"Well, Meredith must have been squirreling away for some time. It is quite a sum." She slides a pile of forms across the desk. I shift forward to look.

The total is marked on the bottom: Balance $302,107.36. This can't be real! It must be a sick joke. I look up, a question in my eyes. Saddie smiles. "Yes that is the right amount, quite a nice surprise."

"How?"

"Your mother made quite a few of good investments," she explains. "There is also a safety deposit box, also in your name." She starts pointing and I start signing. The papers from back when she must have signed me onto this account look like my 6 year old hand writing. She must have had me sign this when we came in to start an account for me. I don't remember.

Saddie and I make small talk for a while then we are done, and she leads me out of her office, walking back to the deposit boxes. My mom's box is a small one and it's full of jewelry. It explains a lot. About a year before my father left this stuff started to disappear. Mom must have realized something was changing and of course she would have ads sure that it was protected.

-One diamond ring, my grandmothers.
-One string of pearls.
-A pair of cufflinks, my father wore them at their wedding.
-Some other precious stones and chains.

The only valuables not present are my mom's wedding ring, which hangs on a chain around my neck. And the sapphire necklace my dad gave her when I was born. My birth stone. She was buried wearing it.

With her all-consuming cancer, I never figured she was the one to stash it. I thought my dad took them. I empty the contents into my pockets; it doesn't have to stay here hidden anymore.

When I exit the bank I feel like a different person. I am still sad, and alone, but before I felt trapped. Now I have plans to make. Choices. Options. I've never felt so free.