Adieu

Closeted Momentos (Michayla)

A flood of memories overwhelmed Michayla then and took her on a steep slope of nostalgia and recollection. With every word Dezmond spoke, a scene would begin to materialize and play vividly for Mickey. Her father and mother stood in the kitchen, Theresa's arms folded and burning brown eyes staring Michael down incredulously. Her father would lift his arms in response, giving his wife a reassuring grin as he chuckled nervously, "I'll get it done, T. You know I will." Then, in true Michael fashion, he'd go to make an X over his heart before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Theresa's cheek, her mother's features losing their hard lines and softening in response to her husband's affection.

Leaning back and willing her shoulders to relax into the soft cushions of the wicker sofa, Michayla felt her eyes flutter shut as she allowed herself to sink further into her recollections. She could fondly remember waking every morning, Theresa there with her fingers in the young girl's hair, rousing her from her dreams with promises of a bright and eventful day. Mickey would jump up excitedly and run into the living room, Theresa hot on her heels. As her mother turned into the conjoined kitchen to begin putting together their breakfast, Michayla would hurriedly push the waiting VHS tape into the VCR, the vivid colors and characters singing and dancing on the screen enrapturing her. Mickey would then head off to elementary school, happily going about her day knowing that when she returned home, her father would be there waiting for her, dark blue overalls and kind face covered in grease and a smile that could light the night sky.

Michayla leaned forward then, a genuine smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, dimples concaving into her now flushed cheeks, "That was when dad still worked for DS Steel. He'd have to wake up at ridiculous hours and every morning before he left for the day he'd make sure to have the VHS ready to record so that I could watch Sesame Street while I got ready for school." Resting her elbows on her knees, her chin perching on her now intertwined fingers, Michayla turned her attention to the doorway that her mother had disappeared through. Before they had added this extension to the house, it had been a small patio. Every afternoon when she stepped off the bus, Mickey would find Michael seated there, beer in his hand, a juice awaiting Michayla. "You know, it's been years since I've even thought of that? I'm surprised I even remember dad having had a job before the flower shop." Turning her attention back to Dezmond then, she offered her guardian angel a soft smile. Before she could give him a thank you for reminding her of those early days, Michayla heard her mother pushing past the screen door. Theresa carried a tray with two tall glasses and an assortment of fruit, setting it down softly on the coffee table that sat in the center of the room.

"I would've made tea but, knowing you, you've already had your fair share. Besides, nothing beats a tall glass of crisp spring water."

Michayla felt the smile on her face grow in intensity as her mother placed the full glass on a coaster in front of her. The water was topped with a slice of lemon and fresh blueberries, a touch that Mickey appreciated. Theresa then began to separate the fruit onto two small serving dishes, placing one beside Michayla's glass and one beside her own. "The quiche shouldn't take too terribly long to bake but I imagine you must be feeling peckish." Reaching around and giving her mother's shoulders a tight squeeze, Michayla rested her head on Theresa's shoulder briefly as she mouthed a quick thanks. As she and her mother began to chit chat and catch up, Mickey would occasionally shoot Dezmond a smile, being sure to acknowledge him and remind him that she hadn't forgotten he was there.

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What was originally supposed to be a short visit had eventually turned into a full-blown afternoon of laughs, nostalgia, and good conversation. By the time Michayla had casually peeked down at her wristwatch and noticed the time, she and her mother had already been through half a pitcher of sun basked tea and a little more than a quarter of her quiche. It was now nearly half-past six. Mickey chastised herself, remembering then that she hadn't taken any of her medications for the day. "Sorry, mom. I didn't even think to bring my meds with me and it's starting to get late." Going to stand, Michayla felt her mother's hand reach forward and grip tightly around her fingers. Also pulling herself into a standing position, the planes of Theresa's face lost their luster and saddened as she quipped, "Wait, Mickey, before you go. There's something I have for you. We started talking and I lost track of time and it completely slipped my mind." Feeling herself being tugged into the house, Michayla saw the expectancy in Theresa's eyes, the older of two hoping that the younger would further humor her. Sighing softly, Mickey nodded before lifting her opposing hand in warning. "Sure, mom, but you gotta make it quick, okay? I've still got to drive across town."  With the way her mother simply waved her hand in response, Michayla knew that the woman had only half heard her and she couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head.

Now that they were inside, the same hurried intensity that carried the pair through the threshold had left Theresa as she simply stood in the foyer, unmoving. Michayla noticed the slight tremble of her mother's shoulders. Mickey recognized it instantly as it was another telling sign that she had inherited from Theresa. The shift in conversation and the overall mood was palpable and any residual anxiety that seeped from her mother was now beginning to make Mickey's chest tighten. Stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on her mother's shoulder, Michayla looked onward to the woman's profile.

"Mom?" she whispered.

Turning her head quickly, same dark eyes meeting those of Michayla's, Theresa pulled herself out of her own head and gave her daughter a reassuring nod. She squeezed the young woman's hand quickly before stepping up to the coat closet. Mickey hung back and watched her mother as she dug around inside the closet. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but Michayla could feel a heaviness in the room. It felt as if it were pushing down on her, causing her knees to begin gently knocking together. After a bit more shuffling and rearranging, she watched as Theresa began to back away from the closet, her hands pulling back with her...

"A saxophone case?" pondered Mickey.

Now that she had the black case fully past the closet's threshold, Theresa leaned forward and gave the door a quick shut before sitting back on her knees and heaving a deep sigh. With trembling hands, she pushed the case towards Mickey and looked up to her daughter.

"It was a gift from your father."