Melabee decided not to go to school. She figured everyone would understand the reason why. She arrived at her house during a serene morning. It echoed the state of her mind, despite what she had gone through just hours ago. Her eyes found a set of documents on the kitchen table. Tears threatened to surface. She took a couple of deep breaths and fought the tears. She grabbed the documents when a thought came to her.
How did these get in here? From what she recalled she had slammed the door in the man's face. Then she remembered that she had also left the door unlocked during her breakdown.
She thought nothing of it any longer. She took another deep breath before bringing her eyes to read the papers.
The very front page read: WILL AND TESTAMENT
It was Mr. and Mrs Samuels' joint will. Melabee lifted her eyes off the paper and endeavored to compose herself. After a minute, she decided to read the next page. It contained contact information.
I don't have to do this alone, she thought. Finding her phone, she dialed the number.
A lady with a melodious voice answered, "Melabee Samuels?"
"Y-yes," Melabee wasn't expecting the lady to know her name.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you ready to go over the documents?" she clarified.
"Um, yes."
"Great! Do you have them in your possession at the moment?"
"I have them," she said. "Three documents."
"Yes that's right. Alright now, my name is Shelly and I will be helping you through the process."
"Through the phone?" Melabee asked. This all seemed so odd.
"Yes, unless you'd like for us to send someone?" she asked, her voice still cheerful. In fact it was cheery from the start.
"If you don't mind," Melabee said. It seemed inappropriate talking about her parents' death over the phone with someone who was cheery and enthusiastic.
"Not at all," Shelly said, not breaking her joyous tone. Unbelievable. "Mr. James Jackson will be at your address at approximately one in the afternoon, okay?
"Thanks."
"Melabee?" Shelly said before Melabee could end the call.
"Yes?"
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Shelly said, this time sincerely. "Mr. and Mrs. Samuels were great partners and employees."
She knew them? The line ended before she could ask.
Melabee looked at the time. It was quarter to nine which gave about four hours and a half to get ready before the man got there.
She decided to use the first hour in the shower. Then the next hour reading The Stranger. Melabee was immersed in a second movie by the time she heard the doorbell ring. She checked the time: one o'clock.
On the dot.
"Hello again, Ms. Samuels," the man greeted. "As you may have been told, my name is James Jackson." He stuck out his hand in a friendly manner.
Melabee fully opened the door and shook his hand. "Please, come in."
"I'll go get the papers," she said. "Please sit." She retrieved the papers before going back to the living room where Mr. Jackson was situated.
She handed the papers to him and sat quietly.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she told him.
"There is no need to apologize Ms. Samuels," he reassured her. "I understand."
"Thank you."
He nodded in response. "Shall we get started?"
Melabee agreed.
The meeting was over at exactly 1:45 pm. Mr. Jackson was very precise and professional. He offered his condolences and explained in detail what the documents stated. Mr. and Mrs. Samuels had written in their joint will that they were leaving the estate to Melabee, including the microhouse settled on the shore of Delfinia, in addition to five million dollars to help with other expenses. The cars, the Wrangler and both of Mr. and Mrs. Samuels cars were also left to the possession of their daughter. Everything was paid for. Even in in the end, her parents made sure that she was secure and taken care of.
"And this," Mr. Jackson handed her a form, "is a form you must fill out. It's just so we know you've read the will. It's for the records."
Melabee signed the form and returned it. Mr. Jackson slid her a card.
"This is card holds the money that your parents left to you," Mr. Jackson said. "It isn't activated until you make a purchase. Log into this website," he points at a link on the form, "and create your pin number for this card. Here are your log-in information. You may change the password. It is up to you on how you spend the money, Ms. Samuels. I do suggest, if I may, to spend it wisely. Five million dollars can disappear if not invested properly."
Melabee silently took the platinum card. It was heavier than she expected.
"You don't have to use this card. If you'd like to open your own bank account at any banks, you may. The website we've provided will allow you to transfer money from our bank to whichever bank you choose."
"Mr. Jackson," Melabee said.
"Yes, Ms. Samuels?"
"When can I see my parents?" she asked him quietly.
Mr. Jackson was quiet for a moment. Then, seriously, he said, "I'm afraid, Ms. Samuels, that we were not able to retrieve their bodies."
Melabee looked at him in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"Unfortunately we were not able to recover the plane."
"I don't understand," Melabee told him, her eyes starting to water. "Where did the plane crash?"
"Above the Marianas Trench," Mr. Jackson told her. "It was too late by the time we were notified of the crash. I am sorry, Ms. Samuels."
Melabee buried her face in her hands and wept.
"Ms. Samuels-"
Melabee got up and wiped her tears, "Thank you for your help."
Mr. Jackson got up.
Melabee walked to the front door with the man behind her. She opened the door and avoided his gaze.
"Please, Ms. Samuels, if you ever need anything, anything at all, please call. Our contact information is on the card."
Melabee nodded throughout his sentence. She just wanted him to leave.
"Ms. Samuels," he said before she could shut the door. "If you would like to go ahead and create funeral arranges-"
"Please leave," she said. Mr. Jackson gave one last respectful bow and left.
Melabee took her parents' will and the debit card to her parents' bedroom. She opened the door slowly and half expected to see them there, sleeping soundly. Loss finally took its toll when she saw their made bed. She wasn't even left with any of their mess, no unmade bed that reminded her of their getting up out of bed, nothing was out of place that indicated they once touched their things. Their room was clean, like they were never there. There was nothing there that reminded her of them.
Still, she made her way to their bed, weeping. She remembered how she used to crawl in their beds with them when she was little. She could do it any time and they would never mind. They would be happy to see her, in fact. She drew her knees to her chest and cried and cried. She imagined they were there with her. She imagined she was little again.
Melabee fell asleep with memories of her parents engraved in her mind. She disliked the most beautiful memories the most- they caused the most pain.
