Free at Last

The attic was the last place to go, and Hope knew it was going to be the hardest part. Accompanied by her enthusiastic daughter, Sylvia, Hope pulled down the upper hatch to the hallway, clasped the flashlight between her teeth, and started up the stairs. The attic hadn't changed in years, and the nostalgia hit her harder than the smell of decay. There was a bit more stuff in there, but it was still basically just her old bed, a few broken pictures from the fight she'd had the last night she was there, and some boxes of miscellany. Her daughter lit up when she saw a bed and raced towards it.

"This is so cool. You used to sleep up here?"

"Mhm," Hope said, looking at the dusty broken glass on the floor.

The picture of her and her brother still lie torn on the floor and the few drops of blood that fell when she punched her mother in the face were stained on it. Following her mother's eyes, Sylvia picked up the picture and brushed the shards off.

"Who's he?"

"That's Wendell," Hope sighed.

While her daughter admired the pictures, Hope wandered over towards the six boxes she had grown up looking at. She opened one of the boxes and started to sift through the old belongings. Her daughter joined her.

"You played baseball?"

"I tried, but Wendell was always better. This is all his stuff."

"Oh." Sylvia opened another box and giggled. "Even this cat costume?"

"I mean, kind of? It was a hand-me-down I got when he outgrew it. My dad refused to spend money on two Halloween costumes so he just got Wendell whatever he wanted and I got whatever he'd worn the year before."

"That sucks. Is that why you never let me and Luna wear the same clothes?"

Hope shrugged and pulled out more papers. Every essay Wendell had ever written, every picture he had drawn, and every award he'd ever won was stuffed in these six boxes. Hope silently separarated what could go to Goodwill, what could be tossed, and what they'd use to stage the home for the new owners. After twenty minutes of terse silence, Sylvia, who had been offering her mother stuff to decide on, stopped while holding a newspaper clipping.

"Wendell got killed?" she said with concern.

"Yep," her mother replied, tossing the newspaper into the trash bag. "His girlfriend was upset that he got another girl pregnant and set his car on fire with him in it."

"Geez. Didn't that make you sad?"

Hope shrugged and kept tossing things. Her mother had asked her the same thing right before their fight as she was moving the boxes that contained his whole life up to the attic. Hope had stopped her around the second box, confronting her mom about once again flooding her life with Wendell. How could you not want his stuff to be stored here? You were close. Look at this! You were basically best friends! Hope had snatched the picture and tore it in half, prompting her mother to smack her, and her to punch her mother in the face. Her father had stopped the fight and pushed her down the stairs to the attic, throwing everything in her room except the bed down after her.

You are leaving! You have disrespected me and your mother and your brother's legacy for the last time. Get out, and if you ever come back, I'll treat you like I treat other trespassers. Hope discarded more and more stuff, angrily throwing gold baseball trophies and stained basketball jerseys away. Soon, they were down to the last box, though Sylvia hesitated to hand anything of her mother. She would quickly try to memorize the items she saw before her mother tossed them in trash bags. She paused when she saw a child-like letter addressed to Hope. She pulled it away from her mother's clutches and read it out loud.

"Hope. I chose your name after a girl I liked because she had pretty eyes and made me laugh. I hope when you're born you're pretty and funny and boys like you. I will always protect you from everything that happens, and you'll have me no matter what. While you're in heaven, say hi to Garrett for me. Mommy, who's--"

Hope was crying, frustratedly kicking and stomping on the now empty boxes. Sylvia just watched sadly, slipping the faded letter into her pocket. Hope tossed the bags down the stairs, relishing in the breaking of Wendell's things inside them. Baseball trophies snapped, sending angry golden shards sticking out the bag. she swept up the shards and the old pictures in her hands and threw them in the last bag before tying it tight and tossing it downstairs. She turned to her daughter, wiping the sweat off of her face, and said, "We can leave whenever you're ready. I'm going to take this shit to the dumpster."

Hope left, and Sylvia stood there stunned at the sudden rage and pain that took over her mother. She had been very excited to learn about her mother's family since she never talked abotut hem,but after seeing her mother's reaction, she realized some things are better left a mystery. She took the letter out and read it again, looked around at the empty room, and slipped it back in her pocket before bounding down the stairs to go find her mother.