In The End

Episode Eleven - Borrowed Time

I looked down inside the case and saw an envelope, taped to the bottom.

My hands shook as I bent down and picked it up, my name was scrawled across it. Written in my fathers ever messy handwriting. Tears fell down the apples of my cheeks before I had a chance to stop them. I had never thought to open the case before, never thought to look.

I sat down on the bed again and held the envelope between my fingers.

Inexplicably, part of me was terrified to open it, to realize just how much of a disappointment I had become to my father. He had wanted so much for me and I had done nothing.

I turned it over anyway and opened it, slipping the letter inside out gently. I sucked in a deep breath before unfolding the paper.

Dear Emelia,

You hold the world in the palm of hands, you can be anyone you want to be. From the moment you were born, I knew you were special. I know that's a thing most parents will claim to know about their kids. But Baby... you are different.

No matter what you do. I will always be proud of you...

I opened an account in your name at Harolds Bank and put my life savings in it. It's only $8,000 but it's yours. You can access it from your 18th birthday. It could be for college, or a trip around the world... I don't mind as long as you live your life with it.

Because it can end in an instant.

Love Dad.

I stared at the paper, frowning deeply, unsure of to feel. All these years struggling and I'd had enough money to keep us afloat all along. I read over the last line again and bit my lip. It read like Dad had known he was sick. Like he had known he was living on borrowed time.

Angrily I threw the letter into the bottom of the case again. Why hadn't I looked earlier. I could had been a better daughter...

I walked out of my room, packing was going to have to wait. I needed to clear my head. I walked down the hall and into Mom's room. I needed something to wear to Ted's birthday dinner and the nicest piece of clothing I owned was the dress pants and white blouse I'd worn to graduation. I sighed and opened Mom's closet. I gazed over the dresses that had hung in there for as long as I could remember. Even when Dad had been alive it was once in a blue moon I'd see her dressed up. I knew that once upon a time she'd been in a well to do family, fed with a silver spoon and brought up with wealth. Marrying Dad had caused a rift, his lower social standing something Mom's parents hadn't been able to get over. So her dresses had come with her, but her family had not. I wasn't supposed to know, but over the years I'd pieced the puzzle together.

I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers over the numerous outfits. They all seemed so lavish, and over the top. I needed understated, classic...

I hadn't worn a dress since Mom had put me in them as a toddler. Maybe the dress pants and blouse was the way to go after all. I was about to close the closet door when at the very end of the railing I noticed a black dress. Unlike all the others it was simple, sleek and perfect.

I pulled it out and lay it down on the bed. It looked as though it was just above knee length and body fitting. I nodded and looked down at the floor of the closet, spying a pair of black pumps.

I picked up the dress and shoes and left the room.

When I walked back into my own room I was confronted by the suitcase and the letter. I stopped dead in my tracks and backed out of the room. Not tonight.

I took the outfit and shoes into the bathroom. I hung the dress over the towel rail and placed the shoes on the wicker shelf that held various bath bombs and soap. I opened the bathroom cupboard and looked at Mom's makeup. Even if I knew how to apply I knew most of it had been sitting there for years untouched. I frowned and walked downstairs slipping my phone out of my pocket as I moved.