The Last Letter: Sey’s Escape
The alarm buzzed for the third time that morning.
“Ugh. Fine. I’m up.”
She slapped her palm on the off button this time instead of snooze as she rolled out of bed. Maybe one day she would wake feeling rested. Ha! Not likely. Seyanne sighed as she reached for her towel. A cold shower would wake her up. She knew better than to use hot water. It had been 6 months. It still hurt too much.
Jumping into the shower she let the cold water wash the hot tears down the drain. I will not wallow today, she thought as she furiously scrubbed the remnants of her grief crusted eyes.
It’s done. She’s gone and I can’t change this.
“Stop it. She would never want you to live like this.” Seyanne smirked, she never talked this much to herself.
She stepped out of the shower and wiped the mirror. Looking into her own icy eyes, the ones M said sparkled like crystals, she remembered the last morning and that last hot shower. More than the water had been steaming up the mirror that day. She shut her eyes tightly, and could almost feel the soft warmth of Marta against her back.
She shuddered, and took a deep breath.
Not today.
Throwing on some clothes, Seyanne tucked her hair under one of M’s wooly hats. No sense in trying to look good with all that snow outside anyway. She had just pushed the on switch to heat up water for her tea when she heard a quick knock at the door. Little early for a delivery, especially after last night’s storm. Curious, she peeked out the curtain and watched a courier dart back to their van. Weird. Since when did the boss start using a courier. She waited until they drove off before opening the door. There wasn’t a package, or even the usual envelope. There was nothing but a small black leather bound journal and a single daffodil.
Martas flower.
Their flower.
She glanced at her ring finger where the long stem stared back from her inked skin, then anxiously looked all around. What the hell was this? Gently, scooped up the journal and flower as if they were spun glass, clutching them to her chest willing herself to breathe. Clearly, it was going to be an interesting day.
Closing the door, she opened the book in her hands. There, in the flowing script of the woman she’d do anything to see again, were three words:
They are coming.
She turned the page expecting anything to explain what that meant, only to find a single word:
Run.
Fuck me. Seyanne didn’t need any other instructions. She grabbed the bag by the door, the one they had packed together 6 months ago, slipped on her boots and jacket, swiped her keys from the hook, and left her home. There was no turning back now. This is what they had prepared for, even if she wasn’t supposed to be doing it alone. Casting one cautionary sweep of her yard she sprinted to the truck, jumped in, and started the engine. As she backed down the driveway she reached for the book, they had never planned this next part. Turning to the 3rd page she stopped moving. There was an address and a note that said,
Sey, All you need to keep going can be found here. Don’t stop moving.
“Alright, M. I’m listening.”
She kissed the flower and placed it on the dash.
Her GPS led her to an unassuming warehouse amidst a sea of warehouses in the industrial district. Cutting off the engine, Seyanne felt a chill sweep across her shoulder blades.
“Tell me what’s up, ghosties.”
M would laugh when she did this, but Seyanne’s ghosties were legendary. They had never been wrong. She reached in the bag for the baton.
“No K & G, ain’t who we be.” She whispered.
In all of their training it was the one rule they agreed on. No knives. No guns. It didn’t stop them from training to be any less lethal. They had to be, all protectors were.
Grabbing the book off the passenger seat, Seyanne made her way through the alleys of warehouses until she came to a faded yellow door. 5-AA was barely visible on the darkened glass window. She pulled the handle and the door swung open. Startled, she quickly shot her foot out to stop it from slamming into the wall.
The warehouse was empty.
Well, except for the single chair in the center of the massive space. And perched on the chair was a large briefcase.
What is this M? She thought.
After a quick glance to the perimeter and locking the door behind her, she walked to the chair and popped open the briefcase. She couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. Sey had never seen that much money in one place before. As startling as that was, the gun was what had her in shock. The rules had changed, and M was telling Sey from the beyond what she had feared most. She would have to change with them. Sey hated guns with every fiber of her being. For good reason. It was a lone handgun that had destroyed her own life all those years ago, and threatened M’s when they had first met. She inspected the case. Taped to the inside she found exactly what she was looking for, a note that simply read:
Skip to the end.
Sey stood there. What? What does that mean?
She felt the panic rising. I’m in the middle of an empty warehouse, you’re not here, and they are coming. What am I supposed to do with this??
The air was getting thinner.
The ghosties slammed into her back, hard. She stumbled and whirled around, baton ready.
Nothing.
“Ok M. Now I’m freaking. What do you want?”
The note in the briefcase fluttered to the ground. Sey stared in disbelief. The ghosties were real.
“M?” She shivered and tears formed in her eyes. “Is that you?”
The note fluttered closer, brought on a gust of air Sey couldn’t explain. She bent to pick it up and the journal fell from her pocket. It opened to a page filled with Marta’s script. She grabbed it and flipped a few more pages, all filled with quickly written words from the lover she would never get over. The woman that showed her not only how to be brave and tough, but also how to be soft and to love. The woman she saved, and the woman that saved her.
“Oh, M. Skip to the end, you hated when I did that.”
It was one of the many things they argued about most, Seyanne’s inability to embrace the fun of spontaneity and a good mystery. She couldn’t help that she hated suspense and surprises. Those were dangerous things in her world. She tried to hide when she skipped to the end of a book or looked up the ending of a movie, but M always knew. A single tear fell as she sat on the floor to read Marta’s last words.
~~
My brilliant Seyanne, my daffodil.
If you’re reading this then I didn’t make it back from my last run. I knew they were closing in on us. Boss had said as much at our last meeting. We can’t win them all. We helped so many, though. Maybe more than we will ever know. Now it’s your turn.
I know we promised we would do this next part together, and I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. But you know me, I always believed in your ghosties more than you. I’ll be there.
It’s only 20k, but it’s enough to get you to the Range. Take it and go. The gun too. Yes, my love. The rules have changed. You are not safe. Don’t trust anyone. I have my doubts about Boss, but if you get in a bind, she may be able to pull some strings. Keep moving. Join the others or build yourself a tiny container home like you always dreamed about for us. Live. Laugh again. Find love. You have so much of it to share.
I regret nothing, my Sey. Nothing.
Don’t let grief ruin you. The world still has work for Seyanne Thompson to do. This money is enough to allow you to find out what that is. Hopefully somewhere they can’t reach you.
I will always love you, my daffodil.
Look at the ink when you need a reminder that new ain’t nothing but a thing.
In life and death I am yours.
M
~~
Seyanne let the tears fall, careful to not let them smudge the ink. She closed the book, grabbed the briefcase with the money and gun, and walked out of the warehouse. She wouldn’t let M down. She couldn’t.
She got back in the truck and drove out of the park. Seyanne wasn’t sure where the Range was, no one was, but she knew it was north. So that’s where she would go.
She had no idea what lay before her, but she did know one thing, whatever lay ahead was bound to be life changing. Nothing M ever did for her was anything less
