PERKY

2

After folding the paper, I stuck it in my pocket. I locked the box and put it back. I put the key in my pocket. Then I smoothed the soil, picked up the flower pot, and walked out of his room to the entrance.

That's what living was like, I learned that long ago. You continue. Time does not pause for you and drags you along.

Somewhere inside me, I woke up from my winter sleep. It was like right before  froze to death. I was very cold. 

"Miss Seila?"

At the entrance of the door, there was a charming woman in a suit that I thought was a special made, which fit her body perfectly. She was holding something rolled up in her hand.

The places where I was called as a lady throughout my life were usually official institutions. The closest place was the law office. I nodded.

"Helene Martin." she said.

 She was kind but distant. I just smiled.

"Are you coming from law firm?"

"Unfortunately not. Let me give this to you. This is yours."

Even though I didn't understand it, I took the invitation she held out and held the flower pot tightly under my arm, and untied the rope surrounding the paper. I kept sniffing because looking upside down caused a runny nose.

The italic handwriting was striking.

Leroy Family Donation Ball

Monsieur G actually left me trouble, not a home. I thought so. He built the house himself, but he was not the only shareholder on the land.

His lawyer said that it was a big family. I just skimmed over the name on the file while trying to digest that he wouldn't be in my life anymore.

There were very wealthy families in Lyon. I knew some of them but I know that this family is not one of those families. I think this family is wealthier than the rest.

I didn't know who they were. I didn't even know I needed to know.

It was exactly three days ago.

When I woke up to my birthday that no one remembers, I took the bus to Istanbul to see the only thing he left me of his own will. I found the house.

My boss, who I work for for a better life, who can criticize everything, is mostly unhappy, mostly grumpy, has no one, rejects if any, left me an ugly, old, neglected, abandoned, lonely house. I hated it.

I remember wanting to get rid of it. I called the number the lawyer gave me, and when no one answered, I stuck to my plan.

I think I die on the first day of every new year. In the sharp cold of winter, on the longest night of the year, I dream of lying on the sand and blending into the ground. It's like I'm changing my skin when a wave over me could take me away. The wave takes away the worn leather, and I stay there again, submerged in that sand.

Every year the same fanfare takes place in my soul. Nothing changes, but I repeat it over and over like a ritual. For something to happen.

I would lay on that beach and just stand there doing nothing. Sometimes I just needed it. To stop.

I remember having a drink. I remember the long haired bartender. I remember dancing, crying.

After a while my mind gets shallow.

The voice inside me, which is difficult to silence, was gradually breaking down around me.

The date on the invitation caught my attention at the moment when I felt that I had to stop procrastinating and face myself. December 24, 2021