From her mother’s rocker, Chelsea watched the brewing storm. After a whirlwind week, she was grateful for a quiet afternoon in her café.
“Hey, boss.” Manny trudged into the sunroom, holding a bouquet of pure white flowers.
“What are these for?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s Resurrection weekend. Good Friday, actually. I thought you could use something cheery in here.”
“They’re lovely.”
“Easter lilies. From my sisters’ garden.”
“Tell your sisters thank you. You should bring them by the café sometime.”
Manny placed them on the center table, then handed Chelsea the day’s mail. Among the colorful coupons and black-and-white bills, there was a familiar-looking manila envelope. “Thanks, Manny.” Chelsea started to open the envelope, but noticed Manny was still standing beside her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Manny said. His eyes were glistening and sincere. “I just hope I’m doing a good job for you is all.”
“Are you kidding? It’s because of you I feel like I can make it on my own.” But when Manny looked to the floor, Chelsea wondered if she had said the wrong thing. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chelsea decided to lighten the mood. “I like your T-shirt, Manny,” she added.
“Katrina got it for me. It’s a Star Wars shirt.”
“I see that.”
Manny forced a smile before leaving Chelsea alone with the dreaded manila envelope.
As Chelsea presumed, these were indeed the documents that would end her marriage. It was over. Chelsea was free. Her life was an open road. But if she continued on this path, her only companions would be the bitter memories that would stalk her until she could remember them no more. Her father had blazed this trail.
At eighty years old, he was finally free. But what a dreadful salvation! His freedom came by no conscious choice of his own, but rather by the cruel saviors of Alzheimer’s and dementia.
Chelsea knew it was too late to turn back. She was holding the evidence in her hands. Now she had to learn to walk the lonely road she had paved for herself. But how?
How will I make it on my own?