Fleur | Eddie Munson X OC

008

I should have considered it a bad omen when Kashmir dropped a dead mouse by the bed at six o'clock this morning. At least I thought it was dead, until I attempted to scoop the poor creature up with my house shoe and it miraculously resurrected. I spent a full hour chasing the damn thing around the house.

Then after multiple failed attempts, I couldn't get Bing to start. I had to call Hopper and the extra forty five minutes it took for him to give me a jump, caused El and I to be late for first period. I had the pleasure of listening to my cousin complain the entire ride that her day was just ruined because she wasn't going to get her morning kiss from Mike. Gross.

The worst tragedy of the morning was when I spilled my full cup of coffee down the front of my white sweater before I even stepped foot in the building. In hindsight, I should have called it quits from there. I was forced to wear my terribly wrinkled and slightly smelly gym shirt until Chirssy noticed and took pity on me, lending me her jacket. If I didn't consider her my best friend before, that certainly would have done the trick.

I didn't even have a certain wavy haired, lovably neurotic, fake boyfriend to cheer me up because he was out today helping his uncle around the trailer.

The cherry on top of the shit sundae was the weekly meeting with my mom's oncologist. He informed me that her latest scans show that the cancer is spreading at an alarming rate that even he hadn't anticipated. Within an hour, her fleeting life expectancy had been nearly cut in half.

In short, today sucked.

I'm struggling to force my key into the rusty lock when I hear the shrill ringing of the house phone. I pause, instantly frozen by absolute terror.

Oh god. Don't tell me she's gone. I just left.

With trembling fingers, I somehow manage to unlock the door before dropping my bags and racing towards the sound. The burn of bile churns in my stomach as I reach for the phone and pause. I consider letting it ring to voicemail, a mild delusion convincing me that if I don't answer the call all of this will just be a dream.

I shake my head, clearing the pounding pulse from my ears and the childish thoughts from my mind. This is not a dream, this is my very real reality.

Taking a deep breath I answer. "Hello."

"Hey Emmy, it's me" a deep familiar voice fills the receiver, and I feel my body slump against the wall with relief.

Ben.

"I was just calling to make sure you got the paperwork I sent," he continues.

Right, the paperwork about my inheritance. Now that I'm eighteen, I get a portion now, another when I'm twenty two, and the last of it at twenty five. Not that I currently have use for it. My parents were very smart with their finances, always thinking ahead and planning for the future.

The house is already paid off, so the utilities are the only bills I have to make sure are paid each month. The funds come from an account set up by my mother before she started her chemotherapy treatments. Like I said, always thinking ahead.

There's more money in that account alone for one person to live well for at least five years. It sounds selfish but I couldn't care less about the amount of zeros available to me...I'd rather be penniless and have my family.

"I put them in the mailbox last night," I reply, twirling the springy connection cord around my middle finger. "Ya know, you could have just hand delivered it and saved yourself the stamp."

"I know," he pauses. "I've just been so busy with work." I roll my eyes at his typical excuse, thankful he can't see my face. "But I wanted to make sure you have everything you need."