Bucket List

Chapter 3

The funeral was four days after Bailey died. She asked to be creamated. Her ashes were to be kept in her mothers house, on a mantel. She would've hated that. I watched the urn as the priest prayed. The sun went through the glass and made the floors look like a rainbow.

Mary had asked me to speak, I refused. I had no words say.

She had a headstone, at the cemetary. It was small, only her name and the day she died was ethched into the granite. Mary handed me a rose to set on the stone. I walked up to it and felt the thrones on the stem. I let it poke my skin, and a bead of blood formed on my finger tip.

"Ellie?" The father raised his eyebrows.

I looked up. I let the flower drop to the grass and turned around. Bailey was dead.

******

"El, grab the phone!" My mother yells from downstairs. I rolled over to my bedstand and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ellie Patterson?"

"This is she."

"Hello Ellie, This is Marcus Antonio, The Anderson's lawyer."

"What can I do for you, Marcus?" I ask.

"I'm looking over Bailey's will and I see that she left her college fund account to you."

"What does that mean?" 

"It means you are 30,000 dollars richer."

I glanced at my nightstand, where I had left her list and haven't looked at since her death. I knew immeaditly why she had left me the money. So I could fufill her list, so I could live for her.

"Mrs Patterson, are you okay?" He asks worridly.

"Yes, Marcus. Thank you for me letting me know."

I hung up the phone before he could explain to me what the process was to transfer the money. I grabbed the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. I slipped on my shoes and ran down the stairs.

"Who was that?" My mother asks from the kitchen.

"No one, I'm going out."

"Where?" 

"Shopping." I lied, and walked out the door.

****

The church was empty at night. I walked down the aise and sat in one of the front pews. I glanced at my previous seat two day's before at the funeral. I grabbed the bible from the shelf in front of me.

I flipped to a random page and scanned through, looking for some advice or a sign.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my rightous right hand.

Isiah 41:10

"Rough night?" Some asks. I look up from the bible to see the priest lighting candles on the stage.

"I'm lost, Father." I say. The words fell out of me like vomit. I've never spoken to a priest so honestly before. He thinks for a moment and smiles slightly, finding the answer he was looking for.

"Sometimes that's the best place to be."

"What do I do?"

"Anything you want." He answers, lighting more candles. I put the bible back onto it's shelf.

"Thank you father." I bow awkwardly. He nods but keeps his focus on the candles.

I walk out of the church and into the cold wind. I got into my car and grabbed my phone from the cup holder. I looked through call history and pushed his number.

"This is Marcus Antonio." He answers quickly.

"Hi Marcus, this is Ellie."

"What can I do for you Ellie?" He asks, interested.

"How quickly can I get that money?"

*******

"Why are you packing?" My mother asked as she leaned on my door frame. I looked up from carry on and bit my lip.

"I'm leaving." I answered and went back to folding shorts.

"Where are you going?"

"Africa."

"Africa?"

"Yeah to start with," I nodded. "Then Russia, Australia and England."

"What are you talking about, Ellie?" She asked, carefully sitting in between the piles of clothes on my bed.

"Bailey," I answer. "She gave me a list... a bucket list. I'm finishing it for her."

"Honey, that's crazy. You need to stay here, with us."

"I'm eighteen, I can do whatever I want."

"You're sad, that's all." She waves her hand in dismissal.

"Stop telling me what I am," I demand.

She looked at me with wide eyes, I rarely spoke to my parents with such attitude. My first instinct was to apologize and crawl in a hole, but I resisted.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," I explained. "I hope I can leave on good terms."

She looked sadly at me but I ignored it, keeping my focus on my toiletry bag. She got up from the bed and bent down, kissing my forehead. I watched the floor, refusing to look up. She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

*****

I knocked on her door again as the taxi behind me waited. Mary opened it and smiled.

"It's good to see you Ellie."

"Can I come in?" I ask. She nods and widens the door opening. I slip through and follow her into the living room.

"Your mother called me last night." She announced. I wasn't surprised, she looked at me as though I was crazy. Maybe I was.

"Alright," I said. "Get it all out."

"Don't do it, Ellie." She pleaded.

"I made a promise." 

"Bailey would forgive you."

"She most definitely would," I agree. "But I couldn't."

"This isn't going to change anything," She stated. "This won't bring her back."

"I'm starting to think that she wanted me to do this for me," I looked down at my hands.  "Not her."

Mary smiled warily, and looked down the floor.

"Could I have some tea?" I asked. "I'm quiet cold."

"Of course, one minute." She gets up from her chair. The minute she left, I got up from the couch and took out the piece of paper from my pocket. I grabbed Bailey's urn and replaced it with the paper. I tiptoed to the door and turned the doorknob.

"Would you like sugar in your tea?"

I opened the door and ran out with the urn in my hand.

I entered the taxi.

"Is that an urn?" The driver asked.

"Go!" I yelled at the taxi as I watched Mary walk out the house with my letter in her hand. Written inside was the only thing I thought to say.

I'm sorry.