Eighteen Going on Dead

Chapter Twenty: Blizzard Wonderland

The first snow of winter... it was soft and coming down fast, covering every ounce of surface. I stared out the large windows, watching the snowflakes fall on the window seal and the sunlight become brighter; not exactly exciting when you watch the first snow storm form from a hospital bed- but it's better than being six feet under or eaten by dogs.

The chill in the air was oddly cozy, along with the horrible and silly sense of humor Aunt Joyce has when she brought me the very old stuffy unicorn I would carry around when I were a kid. Dad brought me this- well, actually won- the stuffed unicorn at the annual carnival near our house, two years before the 'accident'.

Aunt Joyce pranced the stuffed mystical animal around as if it were a puppet show. "Awe I think Mrs. Pinky here..."

I laughed and shook my head, "I'm not seven. Where did you find her anyway?"

She smiled bright while tugging on her chewed off and sewed back on ear. "I was looking through the attic and found your childhood box, saw many things that brought me back to my younger years." Reaching into her back pocket, Aunt Joyce pulled out an old crisp moment photo of the parents in their college years- including the officer before dropping out of school. "Back when Afros were very cool and hipster."

It was still oily in between my fingertips, rugged, with a tan hue to show its old age. Mr and Mrs. Holmes- college sweethearts who ran off and got married after graduation, had a kid five years later after grad school and brought their first home in the middle of Seattle. They were posed in front of dad's old corvette that was designed in the eighties, obviously before he was diagnosed with bipolar depression.

"Do you think dad was going to crack either way?"

She stopped prancing the stuffed animal around on the bed, her eyes were still on the itchy sheets while thinking of a reasonable answer. "We won't know, Zaire. It's best not to wrap your mind around that."

"Zaire... Joyce." Sheriff Watson popped his head in. You can say we have our personal round the clock security for a while, just two cops standing in front of the door dosing the same thing that they've done in the station (nothing). "You have a visitor, the name of Ember Jackson."

Aunt Joyce nod her head, signaling the sheriff that this woman could walk in. The woman wore a business suit, head held high as her blue eyes scanned the room- specifically me. They were intense, burning ice that screamed- 'don't fuck with me, I'm a lawyer!'. "Ms. Jackson, thank you for meeting us here and giving us more time."

Ms. Ember stepped closer- cautious and alert- while looking at the monitor and my battle scars. "What happened?" She ignored Aunt Joyce kind greeting as if my caregiver didn't exist. "If you don't mind me asking,"

"I was thrown through glass by a psycho serial killer." I answered truthfully with a small smile and bright eyes. At first the lawyer thought it was a joke and chuckled lightly but seeing Aunt Joyce serious features and Sheriff Watson thin frown, she realized it was the hard truth to my world.

"Oh, wow. This would have to be reported back to the office. With your life in danger, we would have to put a co-signed on the documents."

"Co-signer?" Aunt Joyce questioned while taking a seat once again.

Ember opened the thick file of documents and set it on the table hanging over my lap. "Just incase the first party can no longer handle the insurance money, the co-signed would receive everything, including the first party's life insurance."

The caregiver was a little taken back from the amount of zeros going through her head, even I was choked up on the amount of cash one of us would get if we croaked. "Don't get any bright ideas." I comment with a light chuckle to loosen up the room. "Where do I sign?"