You are not my mother, you are a Painting!

Flashback

Her finger jabbed furiously at the keyboard. The entire page was covered in black “K’s, J’s, L’s, and H’s”. She stared down at the gray phone sitting beside her. She had no idea why he hadn’t called from the office yet. She looked down at the clock on the computer. It was already a quarter past ten. He should have been home by now.

           She looked up at the computer screen and suddenly remembered why she was on in the first place. She had a report due for History on Monday. She hit the backspace button irately and put her name on the top of the page. As she typed, her eyes gazed over to the phone occasionally, jumping every time the anti-virus pop-up popped onto her screen.

           At eleven, the phone finally rang. She ran to it, a pink towel rapped around her head, wearing some old pajamas’, and a pair of fluffy hot-pink slippers on her feet. She picked it up on the third ring and asked hello.

           “Rosalie Ripley?” A strange voice said her name. Rose didn’t like her tone. It was the same tone that the doctor had used to tell her that her mother had developed…

           “Yes. This is she.” Rose quietly replied. What ever this person wanted, it couldn’t be good.

            “I’m afraid I’ve got some rather, err, depressing news for you.” The voice said, the tone she had used earlier now seemed like she was telling Rose about a free vacation to Hawaii.

           “What is it?” Rose sat down on the computer’s leather chair and locked her knees together.

           “Your father was, I’m afraid, murdered on the eighteenth floor in his building today around six.” The voice was weakened now. Rose felt as the hot, stinging tears dropped down from her eyes. Her father, murdered. Her head now felt like it might just stop working. The blood in her veins turned icy-hot.

           “Do you know any more about what happened?” Rose asked, trying to make her voice clear, even though it was becoming clogged with sobs.

           “I’m afraid I don’t.” The voice said, suddenly becoming soft and kind. “Listen though. I promise we’ll call you as soon as we get more details. Until then, would you like someone to come over to your house to keep you company?”

           Rose looked at the black computer screen. She could see her reflection in it, and watched as the tears streamed from her eyes. She knew what she had to do.

           “No. I-I’ll be fine. I’ve got to get to bed anyway.” She forced a smile.

           “Well, alright. I’ll keep you posted then. Good night.” The dial tone clicked onto the line as Rose hung up the phone. She stood up, and while wiping tears from her eyes, walked over to her bedroom. She silently took off her pajamas and slipped on a pair of old jeans. She threw on an old shirt, and took the towel off of her head. She grabbed the brush on her dresser and pulled through her damp hair.

           The phone rang once more before she got the chance to walk out the door. Again, she picked it up, and presses it to her ear.

           “Rosalie Ripley?” The same voice she had heard earlier is back on the line. “Rosalie, sweetheart, we’ve found out the reason for your father’s murder.”

           Rose inhaled sharply.

           “Apparently he was working on some top-secret project funded by the government,” The voice said. Rose couldn’t help but give a sobbing laugh. Her father and that stupid project of his. She faintly remembered how he would obsess over it; how he would stay up half the night, cussing each time he didn’t get the correct answer. All the times she found him slumped over the kitchen table, his head on top of a tattered notebook….

           “When someone — we’re not exactly sure who — pushed him down a flight of stairs. He survived that, though, because we’ve found a bullet in the left side of his head. Rosalie?” The voice asked. Rose snapped out of her now distant memories.

           “Yes?” She answered, looking back up at the black computer screen.

           “Are you sure you don’t want someone over there? We’d be happy to send someone over there to comfort you in this time of need —”

           “I’ll be fine. Thanks though. Is there anything else you found out?” She twisted the cored of the phone around her finger.

           “I’m afraid that’s all we’ve found out. At least for now. We won’t know any more until the Crime Scene Investigation team comes. You’re positive you don’t want anyone there Rosalie?” The voice sounded like she really wanted to help. Too bad that Rose was so stubborn.

           “I’m positive. Please let me know if you’ve found out anything else, though. Good night, officer —”

           “Kindley. Officer Lois Kindley, Rosalie. Good night, then.” She clicked the phone. Rose hung up her end and walked over to the front door.

           She breathed in the cold night air as she walked over to her car. She got in, pushed in the keys, and started the engine.

           One last tear fell from her eye as she backed up from the driveway and into the hands of something which she couldn’t get out of.

           She drove down the freeway, pushing the speed limit of sixty-five. Every now and again she passed another set of headlights, but she didn’t advert her eyes away from the road; nor what she had to do.

           Within the hour, she was at her father’s office. She parked the car and sat silently and still. Rose would have turned the headlights off, but she was too absorbed in her thoughts of the past.

           She felt the time twist back. It was like she had some how altered the laws of time, and went back to before. Back to before all of this; before she was born. She watched as her parents were married, the familiar tape she had seen just nights before visually describing everything. The way her mother smiled, the way her father buried his face into her mother’s curly midnight-black hair. She watched how happy they were.

           A tear ran down the side of her face as she slowly glided back to the present. She twisted out her keys and shut the headlights off. She breathed in one last time before she opened the door.

           Her father’s office seamed different now. It was no longer a place that you came in to do business. Somehow, whether it because of her father’s death or not (though she highly doubted it was because of something else), it had changed into a place of dread and grief.

           She shuttered the thought of her father’s death and pressed forward. She walked through the familiar hallways; even glanced into some of them. Every once in a while, she would pass someone that she recognized, and gave them a slight smile. None of them recognized her though, and that was good.

           She finally reached her father’s office. The door opened slowly, as if about to show her a dramatic ending; that everything about her father being murdered was a lie, and that he was sitting at his desk, his dark hair combed and his glasses half way off of his nose.

           No such luck appeared to be with her that night. Her father had died, and he wasn’t about to return. She braced herself as she walked in and found several papers scattered about the desk. Smashed beakers lined the wall, and several of them were thrown to the floor. Pieces of broken glass, ripped papers, and flower petals roofed the floor. A picture of her and her mother laid face up, the glass broken.

           Rose carefully picked it up and gave a small smile. Her eyes watered up once more as she remembered the day that the picture was taken.

           It was sunny out; Rose only being six or seven. She remembered that her parents wanted to go out for a picnic by the Atlantic oceans shores.

           “Rosalie!” Her mother had called for her. Her mother had always called her by her full name. Never once had she remembered being called by anything else. Once in a while she would call her something in Spanish; mi amor was what she remembered.

           “Rosalie! Come here! Let’s take ourselves a picture, huh?” Rose ran to her, and fell in her lap. She was wearing her favorite white sun dress, the one with the tie-on straps and bell-like skirt. A wrap tied in the shape of a bow was in the back, and it was covered with shiny pearl-shaped dots. Her mother laughed and pulled her up. Rose smiled and looked at her mother.

           “Annabelle,” Her father said her mother’s name like he was in love with that word alone. He walked over and sat down beside her. “Why don’t you and Rose have your backs facing the water? I’ll get better light.” He smiled.

           Annabelle nodded her head. “Right then. Rosalie, come. Let’s face that way.” She picked her up, twirled her around, and sat her down in her lap. Rose wrapped her small porcelain-like arms around her mothers’ neck and looked into her almost black colored eyes.

           Her mother smiled, wrapped her arms around Rose’s waist, and pressed her forehead against her daughter’s small one. The wind blew, making their hair drift in it.

The camera’s flash went off, and Rose was suddenly back inside of her father’s office. She turned the picture frame over, letting the broken glass fall to the floor. She took the picture out and slid it into a pocket in her jeans.

She smiled for a moment, and walked around to the other side of her father’s desk. She started to open up the drawers, looking for some kind of file. After the third drawer, she sat down on the leather chair and let out a sigh. There was no way in hell that he would have left something that important to him in here. She knew it, but she didn’t want to believe it.

She sat up and pulled open another drawer. She pulled back papers, opened books, but there was no sign of it. She shut the drawer and twirled around in the chair, stopping when she faced the window. She looked at her reflection.

She’d gained her mother’s curly black hair, and her father’s strange light-violet shade eye color. She locked her knees together and placed a hand there as she held up her head with it. She stared at her reflection, deciding whose gene code she got more of. She had her mother’s porcelain skin tone, nose, and lip shape. She had her father’s eyes and high cheek bones.

Rose sat there, looking at her reflection in the glass for an hour.  For some reason, she didn’t want to leave this room. She felt, as broken as it may be, safe here. Like the spirit of her father was still here, looking after her. She thought about her family now, about what she would do. Her eighteenth birthday was just around the corner, so legally she didn’t need to live with a parent. And even if she had to, there wouldn’t be a parent to live with. Her father had been murdered, and her mother.…

She looked up. Some one had walked into the room. Her body froze, and her breathing grew heavier. She slowly moved the chair around. She sat up. She didn’t recognize the person standing before her, and she was sure that he didn’t work here. He looked way to young.

“Can I help you?” He asked. The guy stood perfectly straight in the door way. His arms were crossed and his feet at an angle.

“I don’t think you could.” She replied. Rose desperately wanted to get out. She didn’t really feel like talking to anyone right now.

“Oh. Then,” He turned around, but didn’t leave the room. He ran a hand threw his hair before turning back to face Rose. “I’m Brian, by the way. And you are —”

“Rosalie Ripley.” Rose replied, not bothering to give her nick-name to him. She followed his path to her. He stuck out his hand, meaning for her to shake it. But Rose didn’t take it. Instead, she stared blankly.

“I believe you’re supposed to shake it. You know, as a form of hello?” Brian smiled. Rose shook out of her trance.

“Sorry. Brian, is it?” Her smile faded.

“Yes. And you’re Rosalie.” They shook hands, Rose immediately dropping hers after only a few seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Rose said. She now somehow felt obligated to talk to him, as if he was there to help her. She looked over at the bookshelf. Something was drawing her there, but she wasn’t sure what. Everything seemed somehow different now that Brian was in the room. It was as if her father’s present was now absent. His spirit had left, and crossly.

Brian walked forward. “Sorry for what? Not shaking my hand? You’ve already apologized for that.”

Rose sharply turned around, her hair flying with her body motion. It had dried by now, and its natural curls bounced on her shoulders as it landed. She stared at Brian, trying to see if she could figure out where he worked. Was it on the third floor accounting office? Or maybe he was just an intern of some sort. She raised her eyebrows, and concentrated on his face. His features weren’t very dominated, with the exception of his sapphire-blue eyes. He had a slightly crooked smile, and one of his ears seamed to be a little over a centimeter higher than the other. His hair was not really long, par say, but it was defiantly not short. It kind of reminded her of Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo cartoons she used to watch when she was little, although, his hair color was more of a cedar brown and his bangs touched the top of his eyebrows.

“Which department are you from Brian?” She asked bluntly. Manners didn’t really concern her at this point.

“I don’t work here, actually.” Brian’s smile faded. He watched as she walked around him, looking up and down. “What are you doing?” There was sarcasm in his voice, and with it, came back his crooked smile.

Rose looked up at him. She squinted her eyes. “If you don’t work here, then why are you here?”

Brian laughed. Rose knew she was being over dramatic, but she couldn’t help it. All of those mysteries that she had watched over the years started to take control of her.

“I’m part of the Crime Scene Investigations unit.” He pulled out a badge and shined it in the light. “I was sent to check the rooms for any evidence. And as far as I’m concerned, you are pretty big evidence material.” His voice dropped to seriousness.

“Evidence, me? Honestly Brian,” Rose walked back over to the desk. She ran her finger across the top. She looked back up at Brian. “Do you really think that I would have murdered my own father?”

“Your fa—father?” He whispered. “I didn’t realize that you were family…I’m so sorry.”

“Now look whose saying sorry. And you have every right to be. The thought of myself, killing my father — my only living…” She trailed off, trying to block the flood of memories that would be coming back to her. Right now, she couldn’t handle that. She looked up and felt a single, hot, stinging tear drip down from her eyes.

She turned around and faced the window again. There was no way that she was going to let him see her cry. She reached up and pulled the tear away, her finger wiping it off on her pant leg.

“Rosalie, if I can help you somehow —”

“It’s Rose.” Rose cut him off and turned around. “Everyone calls me Rose.”

Brian smiled. “Alright, then. Rose it is.” He walked over to her and set a hand on her shoulder. “Would you — would you like to join me for a cup of hot cocoa?”

Rose returned the smile. “Sure. I — a cup of cocoa sounds really good.” She knew that she couldn’t escape her father’s oh-so-important document, but maybe that cup of cocoa that was calling her name would help ease her mind. And maybe, just maybe, if that didn’t, then talking to Brian might.

            As Brian drove his black S80 T6 AWD Volvo, Rose looked out the tinted windows. The car ride to the little coffee house wasn’t very far, but it seamed to take forever. Neither one of them started up a conversation, which made the car ride there even more uncomfortable.

           “How old are you Rosie?” Brian asked, moving over to the center lane of the highway.

           “It’s Rose. I’m just about to turn eighteen. How old are you, Brianie?” Rose knew that his name hadn’t come out the way she wanted to, but what had been said was said.

           Brian laughed. “Brianie? Did you just come up with that? I would of thought Brainy, but that just takes the cake.” The car slowly picks up speed, but nothing jerked. He looked her over for a second and returned his gaze back to the road.

           “You look about eighteen.” He said, opening up the back two windows. The cold night air somehow felt relaxing to Rose. It reminded her of when her mother would take her outside to look at the stars.

           Suddenly, the interior of the car shifted around her memories, and she was standing only a few yards away from her five-year-old self and her mother on her back deck.

           “Look over there Rosalie!” Annabelle pointed over to the right. “That’s the seven sisters. Do you know who they are?” She looked down at her only daughter and smiled as the five-year-old Rose looked over to where she was pointing.

           “Well,” Annabelle started, looking back over to the star cluster. “They are known as The Pleiades. There’s Maia, Electra, Alcyone, Taygete, Asterope, Celaeno and Merope.” She pointed to each star while saying the names. “Those are some hard names, aren’t they mi amor? So, we shall call them the seven sisters.”

           Rose watched as her mother wrapped her arms around her. She smiled and sat down on a bench.

           “Now. Shall we get on with the story?” The five-year-old image of Rose shook her head, making her hair frizz up and stick to the blanket that was covering them. “Okay. Well, you see, there was this great hunter, Orion,” Annabelle shifted her arm to point at Orion’s constellation, and then lowered it back down. “To which the seven sisters and their mother had met. Now, you must understand something Rosalie. The seven sisters and their mother had been very, very beautiful.” She leaned forward and pulled the blanket up.

           “After the seven sisters and their mother had meet Orion, they became the object of his journey. In other words, he started to chase them down because he thought that they were so pretty.”

           The five-year-old image Rose looked up at her mother. “Kind of like the way that boy in my classroom chases after me?”

           Annabelle laughed. Rose forgot how her mother’s laugh had sounded. She smiled and listened to the rest of the story.

           “No, not exactly like the boy in your classroom chases after you. This is different.” She smiled and looked back up towards the starry sky. “You see, because Orion decided to chase after them, the seven sisters and their mother had to start running away from him. And, Zeus, wanting to help them, changed the seven sisters and their mother into doves, and sent them to live up in the sky.”

           “The end?” Rose’s five-year-old image said, looking up at her mother. Annabelle looked down at her daughter and set her head down on Rose.

           “Yes. The end, mi amor.”

A gust of wind blew and Rose found herself back inside of Brian’s Volvo.

“Rosie, are you feeling alright? You sort of passed out for a minute there.” The Volvo had stopped, and Brian’s hand was lying on her forehead.

“Yeah. I-I’m fine.” She sat up and looked out of the window. They were at the coffee house now. She unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car. The midnight air was chilly, and it made Rose shiver. She’d forgotten to grab the jacket that was in her own car, and she was paying the price.

“Let’s get you inside Rosie. You must be freezing.” Brian pushed her up to the door, opened it, and they both walked inside. To the left there was a fire place, with a couple of old leather couches in front of it. The walls look as if the brick that was on them had been worn away from the years. To the right sat odd little tables and chairs, and in the center of the shop there was a wooden-top counter, and behind that, up against the wall, were two coffee pots, three different sized espresso machines, and another machine that Rose didn’t know what to make of it. Behind it, a sign read: World’s Best Cocoa Maker.

“Shall we?” Brian stretched out his hand, pointing to the counter. Rose turned to face him. She smiled, and nodded her head. They placed their orders (Rose sticking with their regular famous hot cocoa, and Brian getting their special shot in the dark coffee) and walked over to the couch. Music softly played in the back ground, and the smell from the counter surrounded them.

“So, tell me Rosie, why —”

           “It’s Rose.” Rose interjected.

           “Alright. Rose, why were you at your father’s office tonight?” Brian smiled and looked up when a waitress came over to give them their orders. She placed the mugs before them, smiled, and walked back over to the counter.

           “Nothing important. Just went there to say good-bye, I guess.” Rose lied. It’s not as if she didn’t trust Brian, but this was something personal of her father’s, and she felt like it was their own little secret.

           “Oh.” He took a sip of his coffee. Rose took a sip of her hot cocoa. Brian laughed as she set it back down on the table.

           “What’s so funny?” She questioned. Brian calmed himself down a bit before he spoke.

           “It’s just — you’ve got some whipped cream on your upper lip.” He laughed again. Rose felt her cheeks get warmer. She ran her finger above her lip several times before finally being satisfied, and licked the fluffy white stuff off.

           “Did I get it all?” She asked, watching as Brian took another sip of his coffee. He looked up and smirked.

           “Except this —” He reached over and scooped off the rest. Rose felt her cheeks turn hot again. Now was so not the time for her to be flirting. She needed to move on to a different subject.

           “Anyway. Tell me Brian. What made you decide to become part of the CSI unit?” Rose took another sip of her cocoa, but didn’t set it back down on the table when she was finished. Instead she curled her legs on the side of the couch and held the warm mug in her hands.

           “My father was part of it. He would always come home bragging about how cool his job was. Until, one night, he was working over at a chemical plant, or something, and well, I guess someone was still there, and he took him hostage. From what I knew, he tried to reason with the guy, but he wouldn’t listen. The guy shot my dad on the roof of the plant, only ten minutes before my mother and I got there.” Brian’s normally cooked- smile face turned as smooth as rock. His sapphire-blue eyes stared straight ahead, as if looking back in the past.

           Rose sat still. She didn’t know what to say. To say ‘I’m sorry’ was somewhat of an understatement. She looked over at Brian and watched as he shook his head back and forth, trying to clear the memories. He set his mug down, looked back over at Rose and his crooked smile returned.

           “It’s okay, though. They caught the guy and he’s got a life sentence in prison.” He tried to sound like he was happy. He tried, but he wasn’t very convincing. Rose could tell he wanted to see his father again and maybe to get revenge at the man who had killed his father.

           “How old were you when this happened Brian?” Rose asked. She kept still, not daring to move just incase he needed to talk to her some more.

           “Ten.” He replied. He kept his gaze at the floor and put the mug up against his lips. “It happened ten years ago last week. I almost forgot about it too.”

           Rose blinked a couple of times. Brian sat back and looked over at her. “But enough about me.” His crooked smile came back again, bigger than before. “How are you?”

           Rose gave a little smile. “Fine, with the exception that my father’s been murdered.” It felt weird coming out of her mouth. He father — murdered. What was weirder was the fact that her smile didn’t fade when she said it. Her father being murdered was a bad thing. She looked over at Brian. Was it because of him that she couldn’t frown? Or was it because she wasn’t really all that poignant?

           “Fare enough.” Brian took another sip of his coffee.

           Throughout the night, they shared family memories, laughing about each one of them. They ran their coffee bill higher and higher as each hour clicked by. What started out as a depressing night, turned out to be one of the most enjoyable nights of Rose’s life.

           The black Volvo silently pulled into her father’s office parking lot. Brian drove right next to her car, making it look as if it was pulled out of an old used car lot. He switched the headlights to parking ones and turned the engine off. The keys still remained in the ignition and the radio was softly playing in the background.

           “Thanks for distracting me tonight. I don’t think I could have gone through it alone.” Rose smiled and unbuckled her seatbelt. She moved her hand along the door until she found the handle. She looked back over at Brian. He smiled and watched as she opened up the door. The light came on, and poured over both of them.

           “No problem. It was nice meeting you Rosie.” He turned the engine back on and smiled.

           “Oh, for the last time Brian. It’s Rose!” She smiled again and put a foot out of the car. She tried to step out, but felt her self being pulled back in. She faced Brian and followed his gaze.

His eyes looked from her lips, to her eyes, and back down to her lips. “I know.” They both leaned in and kissed.

Rose sat out on her back porch, cup of coffee in one hand, and a blanket spread across her. She watched as the sun rose, illuminating everything around it with a fiery-red glow. The red and orange leaved trees glowed and some leaves shook off. Squirrels jumped from one to another, burying their acorns for winter. She raised the flower-painted mug to her lips and took a deep sip, the steam from the coffee rising into her nose. She looked out and stared off in the direction of the sun.

She thought about last night, and about her father’s murder, mostly. She could no longer be distracted, even if Brian was suppose to stop by and check on her this evening. She thought about that oh-so-important document of her father’s, and why exactly it was that she needed it.

As the sun raised farther into the tequila sunrise backdrop of a sky, Rose thought back to the last time she saw her father. It had been only thirty hours or so ago, right before he left for work. He was a mess, as usual. His glasses were crooked, and his shirt half tucked-in. He was wearing two different colored socks, and his tie was so lose it looked like it might be a belt. She laughed just thinking about it. Her father wasn’t perfect, but she loved him. Why some idiot had to murder him…she trailed off in thought. She took another sip of her coffee and watched the rest of the sunset.

“The briefcase!” The words came sputtering out of her mouth like a facet being turned on with too much force.

The briefcase that her father had been carrying must have that document in it! In fact, she’d of sworn her life on it. She finished up her coffee and headed back inside the house. She rinsed out her cup and set it in the sink. It clinked against the previous nights’ dinner plates and various cups and silverware from days past. She would have to clean them later, since right now she had something more important to do.

She ran up the stairs to her room and threw open her door. A pile of clean clothes lay out on her bed. She quickly grabbed the top set and changed into them. She ran back down the stairs, almost tripping over her own feet on the way back down. She tucked her feet in a pair of beat-up tennis shoes, grabbed the keys to her car, and locked the door on the way out.

The engine revved up and she pulled out of the drive-way. She shifted into drive and sped down to the freeway. She thought of nothing else but that briefcase, that one vinyl briefcase that would have all of her father’s oh-so-important documents in them. She questioned what might be in them. Was it a will of some kind? Her father had told her that if anything where to ever happen to him, that she was to worry about the documents he’d been working on for the past seven years. She remembered the day he told her this clearly.

The light at the end of the de-acceleration lane changed red.

“Rose. Listen to me.” He father was much younger; he didn’t have glasses and his hair was all one straight color; black.

“What ever happens to me, you’ve got to keep this safe.” He handed her a black folder with just enough time to get a good look at it. Then as quickly as he had put it in her hands, he took the folder back out. He shoved it inside of his brief case and tried to smile. Rose didn’t know why the black folder was so important to him; she’d had tons of folders, all very special to her, but none that she would risk her life over.

“Uh-huh.” Rose replied. Her voice was light, and her hair was cut so that it slanted on her shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” Her father smiled. Rose smiled back and started to turn towards her room. All the way back she questioned her father’s black folder. What was in it that was so important?

The light turned green and Rose made a right. The flashback vanished into the morning sky and she drove up to the office without another one.

She got there just before the over-time people shuffled in. It was some what hard to get past undetected, since security lined the entire front of the building. Once the over-timers walked in, briefcases and cell phones in hand, all wearing gray suits, she crouched down and tried to blend in until she reached the elevator. The eighteenth floor button was pressed, and now all Rose had to do was wait.

The eighth time the door opened, Rose was finally here. She was the last one left on, because the eighteenth floor was suppose to be closed off. It was a good thing nobody recognized her, for if they did, she would be sent back to her house with a police escort, and she really didn’t want all of that attention. Right now, the most important thing was to get her father’s brief case.

She walked into the familiar room, and tried to step over all of the broken glass. She reached the closet and opened it. There, lying in side on the floor, was her father’s briefcase. She picked it up and stared at her father’s gold-plated initials, K. R.

She shook her head before even more memories flooded in. Right now, Rose needed to concentrate on getting out of the building. She walked back over to the door way and stuck her head out. No one was insight, so she walked back down the hallway, trying to be as discreet as she could. Off in the building somewhere, she could hear faint voices. It was coming from up here. She rounded a corner, and walked away from the elevator. The voices were getting stronger and she could recognize one of them.

“But he was murdered, John. Murdered! I doubt it was suicide. He had a daughter still…” Officer Kindley said, her voice just below shrill.

“Murder was probably a cover-up. I’ve no sign of anybody coming into his room last night, or for the past two weeks. I’ve talked to a countless number of people, claiming to be witnesses of Kasper Ripley’s death. But none of their stories even fit with what he was doing. You’ve seen the tape yourself Lois. He was in there alone all day and all night. Nobody was with him.” This voice was deeper and stronger than Lois’. Defiantly a man, and most likely Lois’ boss.

Rose stood still, hear head up against the door’s frame. She listened to Lois’ voice, now an ear-piercing shill.

“John, Kasper Ripley did not, I repeat not commit suicide. He had a daughter, and besides, there was a bullet found. With no gun anywhere near him. Nor was there a gun on the eighteenth floor, or in his office. Who ever shot him must still have the gun.” Rose leaned in closer, just enough to get their voice clearer.

“Lois, listen. You can stay here as long as you want — I’m not going to stop you. But Jessie just called—she’s been wondering why I haven’t come home yet. So, I’m leaving now.” Rose froze for a second. She started sprinting toward the elevator—wanting it desperately to be there; ready for her to use.

She pushed the down button and the doors instantly opened. She jumped inside and furiously pushed ground button. The doors shut right before John gets to them.

Rose let out a sigh of relief and waited until the doors opened up again.

She got out and walked out of the building, not caring about all of the guards who saw her. She’d gotten the briefcase — that was all that mattered. She walked out and over to her car, unlocked it, and got inside. The engine started up without a hassle again, and Rose drove back to her house, eager to see what was inside her father’s briefcase.

Around nine p.m. or so, Brian’s Volvo pulled up in Rose’s driveway. She got up from her couch and walked over to the door, eager to tell him what she’d found.

He walked up the steps and Rose opened up the door before he could knock. Brian smiled and kissed her cheek. They walked inside and sat down in the kitchen.

“You look excited about something.” Brian smiled again and watched as Rose paced from the table to the fridge and back again.

“I am. I found something in my dad’s office earlier.” She looked over at him, biting down on her thumbnail, waiting for his expression to change.

It did, but not for the better.

 “Rosie.” His voice was strict, and the look on his face meant business.

“Damn it Brian! I had to go!” The hand dropped from her mouth and her eyes’ stared into Brian’s.

“You should have let me go! If they would have caught you there, they would have been a lot worse than I was! I only let you go because I thought you were cute. I’d beg to differ with anyone else that was on the eighteenth floor that night.” Brian looked over her face, and frowned when he saw it turn cold. “I’m sorry. You were saying? What did you find at your father’s office?”

Rose softened her expression and walked over to sit next to him. “I found my dad’s briefcase. It might have those documents in it. I wanted to wait until you got over before I opened it, you know, just in case.”

Brian looked at her. He raised his eyebrows. “Just incase of what?”

“Well, I don’t know! Just incase there’s a bomb in there or something!” She looked over at him. His crooked grin spread out across his face yet again.

“Sure. Because someone would actually take the time to assemble a bomb inside of a suitcase. Right then. Why don’t you bring that bomb-loaded suitcase here and I’ll take a look at it.” He laughed at his own sense of humor. Rose just rolled her eyes and got out of the bench.

She walked back to her room, grabbed the familiar vinyl case, and brought it back out to a laughing Brian. “Here. Check the thing out, loser.”

“Hey now!” Brian immediately stopped laughing and gave Rose a serious look. “There’s no need for name calling, Miss Rosalie Isabel Ripley.” He laughed again and looked down at the briefcase.
            Rose rolled her eyes and sat down across from him. She really regretted telling him her middle name. “So, anything wrong with it?” She asked, looking at Brian. She could think of a couple of things wrong with him…but that wasn’t the specific question that she had asked.

“Nothing appears to be wrong — other than the fact that it’s vinyl.” He looked up and flashed her one of his crooked smiles.

“Hey. I picked out the vinyl! I thought it looked sophisticated.” Rose raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. She tried to look upset, but Brian smiled again.

“Sorry. It’s very sophisticated looking, then Rosie. Happy?” He looked up at her for a second, just to make sure that her smile was back, then looked back down at the briefcase. “All right. It’s fine. Shall I open it?”

 “No. Let me open it.” Brian handed it to her and watched as she opened it.

Her face looked puzzled once it was open. She ruffled through various papers, yellow sticky-notes, and folders — none of them black. She sat back in defeat. If that document wasn’t in here, then where on earth could it be?

“Is it in there Rosie?” Brian strained his neck over and tried to get a better look inside.

Rose looked over at him and forced a smile. “No.” She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, but didn’t want Brian to see them. She got up and walked over to the front window. The tears came running down her cheeks silently, and she tried not to sniffle as her nose clogged up.

“Rosie, don’t cry because they weren’t in there.” Brian walked over to her and put one of his arms around her shoulders. She turned around and buried her face into his chest. He rapped both arms around her and set his chin on top of her head. They stood like that for a while, Brian eventually pulling her over to her bedroom.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? Why don’t you go and get some sleep. I’ll be here all night. Promise.” He looked into her eyes. She nodded her head and gave a faint, teary smile. He smiled back and kissed the top of her head. “’Night Rosie.”

He walked out of the room and down the stairs. Rose walked over to her dresser, and slipped into a pair of flannel pants and one of her dad’s old t-shirts. She laid down in her bed and closed her eyes, but sleep never came. She looked at the ceiling for almost three hours before getting up. She tip-toed down the stairs and walked over to where Brian was sleeping.

He was sitting up on the couch, his head cocked to one side, and his left arm laid out across the back. She sat down and snuggled up to him. Brian’s eyes opened and he looked over at her. He smiled, and wrapped his arm around her. She rested her head on his chest and fell asleep listening to the even beating of his heart.

           The sunlight streamed in through the living room window, gently waking Rose up. She lifted herself up and looked around her familiar living room. She had a blanket drifted over her, and one of the couch’s old lumpy pillows under her head.

           Rose moved her head until she had looked all around it. There was no sign of Brian anywhere. She sat up and stretched. Her legs were curled, her feet underneath them. She knew as soon as she got up, the warmth from underneath the blanket would disappear. She got up still though, wanting to know where Brian was. She walked down the hallway, checking various rooms. No one was in them. She walked up the stairs, checked everyone of the rooms up there, but there was no sign of him. Rose Felt her blood turn cold, and her movements became hummingbird-like. She moved to fast, and started to form a cold sweat. This was no time for a panic attack. She had to remain calm. So what if Brian had left her? He only said that he would stay the night. He probably left around seven or so. It was Sunday. Maybe he went to church or something. She got down to the last step and turned her head sharply so that it now faced the door. She watched, a little scared, as the door knob handle turned. She almost felt like she was in an old horror movie from the fifties, and that everything was being put into slow motion to draw the tension out.

           The door opened, and in walked Brian, a white bag in hand.

           “Brian!” Rose shouted, running over to him and throwing her arms around him.

           “I was only gone to get breakfast. Sheesh, drama queen.” He smiled and pulled her off of him. He walked over to the kitchen table to set the bag down, pulled out various breakfast items, and set them down on the table.

           “You didn’t even leave a note, loser! How was I suppose to know you only went out to get breakfast?” Rose walked impatiently over to the table. She sat down and grabbed one of the items in front of her.

           “Sorry. You’re a very heavy sleeper, you know that Rosie? I thought you’d still be sleeping by the time I got back. Anyway, how’d you sleep last night?” Brian sat across from her and smiled yet again.

           “Fine. At least, until I got up.” Rose smiled and took a bight of her breakfast. She looked up and out the window. Her mind drifted back, and she thought again about her father’s documents. If they weren’t in her father’s briefcase, then where could they be? It didn’t make any sense. Rose couldn’t think of another place where he might have left them.

           “Rosie?” Brian looked over at her. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

           “Sorry,” She said, taking another bite. “Must have spaced out a little to long there.”

           Brian smiled. “You’ve been acting like that since I met you. Are you sure that you’re okay? Maybe I should leave — give you some time to morn…” He trailed off as he got up from the table.

           “No! No, don’t leave. You’re probably the only thing keeping me sane right now. If you left, I can’t imagine where or what I’d be doing.” Rose smiled and watched as he sat back down.

           “Promise me you won’t go crazy. Or, if you do go crazy, don’t do it around me.” Brian again, laughed at his own expense. Rose just rolled her eyes and finished up her breakfast.

           The rest of the day went by quietly, and Rose suddenly imagined herself as being an old couple. She thought about her grandparents, and how they were always quiet, either reading the newspaper, or watching the news, or something of that sort. Brian was sitting across from her on the couch, watching something that Rose didn’t really care about. She, on the other hand, was thinking back about where her father might have kept those documents.

           The chime clock struck noon and suddenly Rose felt the room shift back and spin. It spun around until she saw herself as an eight year old, sitting across from both of her parents at the dinner table on a groggy night.

           “Annabelle,” He father’s voice was barely above a whisper. Rose’s mother looked Kasper straight in the eye.

           “We will discuss this later, Kasper.” She looked back down at her plate, then over at Rose.

           “I — we need to discuss this now. Rose, could you please go up stairs and do your homework for a while? I need to speak to your mother.” Kasper looked his daughter in the eye. The eight-year-old image of Rose looked up and walked away from the table. She didn’t go to her room though. Instead, she turned around and hid herself behind the door. Her ear pressed against the glass.

           Rose too, listened in. She didn’t quiet remember the conversation, but she did remember that it didn’t end very well.

           “Annabelle. We’ve got to do something about this…” Kasper’s voice sounded as if he was worried about something that couldn’t be fixed.

           Some shuffling came from the kitchen, and a chair was pulled back. The clacking of Annabelle’s heels came forward, and stopped after four. “Kasper, I’ve already discussed this with you, I — there’s nothing more that they can do for me. I’m — ”

           Kasper cut her off. “If you let me, I could schedule some kind of appointment, and — ”

           There was a loud slap across the floor. Annabelle had just struck her foot down. “I am not someone for you to experiment on! I refuse to go in there for you and your little government project buddies to test this latest theory of yours on!” The clacking sound grew louder as Annabelle walked away from her husband.

           Rose watched as her eight-year-old image quickly ran up the stairs and into her room. She remembered that moment, but knew that her mother had never came up. She tried to stay longer, since there was obviously more to the argument, but her mind wouldn’t let her stay.

           “Rosie!” Brian’s hands were wrapped around her head and his eyes were studying her face. “Are you alright? You passed out on me again. Maybe we should go to the hospital or something to get you checked out…”

 Rose shook her head and sat up. “No. We — I don’t need to go to the hospital. It’s just that — I don’t really know why I’ve been passing out so much lately…a relapse of all of my memories keep coming to my mind…must have something to do with my father’s…” She stopped shaking her head back and forth and looked up at Brian. He was on the verge of tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Rose questioned him. It should have been her that was on the verge of tears. It was her father that was gone. At least, had been murdered recently.

“You’re acting so brave, Rosie. I cried for weeks on end about my father’s death. And now you keep passing out on me. It freaks me out to see you like that. It almost looks as if you’ve just — just gone yourself.”

“Don’t be silly. You work in a crime scene investigation unit! Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, used to this kind of stuff?” Rose looked over at him. He was sitting across from her, his hands now down by his sides.

“You never get used to seeing that kind of stuff, Rosie. It’s not natural. And the way some of them have been killed…it’s just not natural.” His head was shaking back and forth, the tears that were once almost dripping down now seceded to exist. Instead, his expression had gone blank; his faced looked like a statues’.

“Alright. Maybe we should move on to a different subject. Like what lunch might be?” Rose changed her tone along with the subject. This did little effect on Brian. He did, however, move. His crooked smile wasn’t plastered across his face, as usual, but it was no longer as stiff-looking as a statues’.

“What should we have? Maybe I should cook. After all, I believe it’s my turn to get something for you.” She smiled, and tried to read Brian’s face. She took the jagged mouth line as a sign that it was her turn to do something for Brian. She lifted herself up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

She opened up the refrigerator door and scanned down the various items lining the shelves. Nothing that she could really make appeared on any of the shelves. There were plenty of meats, and such, but she wasn’t so good with cooking, and rather stick to something that she at least knew how to cook. Maybe something along the lines of…

“Pasta sound good?” Rose’s voice echoed into the living room. No reply came, so she took that as a form of yes. She grabbed a large pot and filled it with water. It was placed on the stove, and under five minutes, little bubbles started bursting up to the top.

 Everything was ready by one-thirty. Rose even took the time to make her father’s special sauce (which was actually taking a jar of Prego and adding mushrooms with some various spices and a little bit of vegetables). She sat down at the kitchen table and waited for Brian to walk over. She’d hoped that he was in a better mood. It wasn’t very fun when Brian acted like he did now. She preferred the crooked-smiling Brian much more.  

“Smell’s good. All this for lunch?” Brian slid into the booth and looked straight across at her.

Rose’s face lit up. “I come from a long line of big lunch eaters. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Really? I thought that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.” He smiled and reached over to grab a plate.

“Oh no.” Rose couldn’t help but smile. She also couldn’t help but realize what it was like to be Brian; always telling jokes to try to cheer her up. “Lunch is the most important meal of the day. It’s an excuse to talk freely and escape all of those teachers.”

Brian’s crooked smile returned to his face. He laughed a little, then poured some sauce over his pasta.

They ate lunch just like they’d spent their first night together; talking about family and laughing every so often. All thoughts about Rose’s father’s documents slipped to the back of her mind. Somehow, when she was talking to Brian, everything else slipped her mind.

She cleared the table around four. She had no idea how three and a half hours had gone by so quickly. Unfortunately, Brian was working tonight and had to leave. He left not to long ago, promising Rose that he’d swing by once his shift was over.

She placed the last dish in the washer and put it on high. She figured that she would spend the time straightening up the house. It’s hadn’t been cleaned in a while, and the laundry had been piling up.

She washed her father’s clothes first, that way she could pack them up and deliver them to Good Will sometime next week. As she poured in the detergent, she wondered why no one had called about her father’s death. It also seamed strange. She was sure that the police department had called her aunts and uncles by now. It seamed strange to her that none of them had called her to see how she was doing.

“Crap!” Rose snapped her wrist up and looked inside of the washer. There was about a cup and a half of detergent that didn’t need to be in there. She tried to scoop it out, but it wasn’t coming out like it should. Half of it was already dissolved in the running water, and the other was slipping into it. She gave a sigh and shut the lid. She might as well just wash the load twice.

She walked out and plopped on the couch in her living room. She didn’t really feel like watching anything, but she turned the TV on anyway. She mindlessly flipped through the channels, searching for some kind of infomercial that she could listen to. They didn’t really bother her, the infomercials. Sometimes they would be quite entertaining. It was funny to think that one machine could do something in less than ten seconds. Nothing was that good.

The time soon pasted, and the clock chiming woke Rose up. She had fallen asleep watching another stupid infomercial. She looked up, her vision clearing each time she blinked.

It was seven-thirty-five. She stood up and stretched out on her way to check the laundry. She turned the dial and listened to the water fill the machine. She turned around and looked at her groggy expression in the mirror. Her curly black hair was ragged and her eyes stared back at her, tired.

Rose shook her head and walked back over to the couch. She sat down and muted the TV. She stared up at the ceiling, bringing her father’s oh-so-important document back to the front of her mind. She thought about what it might be. There was no way it was a last will. Nor could it be something he needed to turn into work.

From that, she somehow thought about the last flashback that she’d had. What was so important about that? Her parent’s fight didn’t clear anything up for her. She then thought about all of the other flashbacks that she’d had over the past couple of days.

None of them seemed to help her with the finding of her father’s documents. She’d never once had a flashback that seemed to help with finding anything. She would have thought that maybe the flashbacks would lead her to finding that black folder.

She ran a hand through her hair and lifted her head back up. Her head started to throb, and her eyes turned everything milky-white. Rose hated when she got a head-rush. It reminded her when…

Her eyes focused into view, and she was suddenly sitting in a hospital waiting room. It looked oddly familiar somehow, but Rose couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

A couple of doctors in white coats walked by, followed by two more in lightly colored scrubs. They were all holding charts, including one with her mothers’ name on the front. A wave of recollection hit Rose and she now knew where she was.

She looked across the hallway and watched as her eleven year-old self walked down the white hallway. Her father was next to her, holding her hand. They came down and walked right past where Rose was, not even noticing her.

She couldn’t really remember what had gone on that night. It was too much of a blur to her now. She followed her eleven-year-old image and father as they turned another corner and into a room. Her mother was lying down on one of the beds, the flower-covered sheets wrapped around her. A couple of tubes ran to her arm, and her long curly black hair was spread out on the pillow underneath her head.  

Both of the Roses’ walked forward.

Annabelle raised one hand and stroked the hair of the eleven-year-old. “You remember the story of the seven sisters, right Rosalie?”

Rose’s eleven-year-old image shook her head up and down. She smiled down at her mother.

Annabelle smiled back. “Promise me you’ll not forget it.” She continued to stroke her hair.

Rose remembered what happened next. She didn’t need to be in her flashback to see that. Yet, she still stayed.

Annabelle’s monitor went off, and the two doctors in scrubs that Rose had seen earlier came rushing into the room. Both the eleven-year-old image of Rose and Kasper were pushed out and sent to wait in one of the rooms.

Her mother’s cancer had gone into effect. It put her into a coma for the next two years. Everyday she and her father visited her, leaving her flowers and books and such, but nothing changed. Over the two years, everything seemed to be in a blur it was going so fast.

Rose shook herself out of the flashback. She stared up at the ceiling again, trying to shake the memories. She looked over at the clock and sighed. It was now close to nine. She walked back and switched the loads of laundry. She walked back out of the room and over to her back door. It wasn’t quite dark yet; the summer sun hadn’t disappeared into the horizon. She opened up the back door and walked towards one of the chairs on her back porch. She sat down and looked up at the sky.

She thought about what her mother said about not forgetting about the seven sisters’ story. She looked across the sky, looking for the curvy star constellation. She found them, and a sudden thought struck Rose’s mind.

She got up and walked back into the house and up the stairs to her father’s study. Maybe those flashbacks of hers were helpful after all.

Rose sat down in the comfy leather chair and opened up the top drawer of the desk. Inside lay not the black folder, but a book. This had to be what she was looking for. Unfortunately, the book was inside of one her father’s clear, lockable cases.

She took out the case and set it on top, opening other drawers to find the key.

It was no where to be found.

She looked up and out the side window of the room. A sharp pain struck her head and she found herself back in her father’s office. This was no flashback of hers. It was, however, her father’s. It was almost like she was floating above his office, two nights ago. He was sitting at his desk, looking down at the picture that was now on Rose’s dresser. He smiled, and a tear fell onto it.

Kasper shook his head and set the picture back on the corner of his desk. He looked back over to his computer, and clicked something. A fraction of a second later, the computer dinged, and he looked frustrated as he typed something into it. The computer dinged again, and Kasper’s expression softened.

He scooted back from his desk, and pulled out his cell phone. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and set the phone down on the desk. He opened up the top drawer and set out a small key.

Rose recognized the key immediately. It was the one that could open the case the book was located inside of. She gasped; it didn’t effect anything. Kasper still looked down at the key.

A knock rapped on the door. Rose’s father looked up, got up, and walked over to open it. A rather large man, with a bald head and brown eyes, dressed in a white lab coat, looked down at Kasper. Rose didn’t recognize this man, but she could recall seeing him when she visited her father’s office Friday.

“What can I do you for, Durant?” Kasper smiled and stepped aside to let him in.

“I need that paper, Ripley.” Durant didn’t smile. He stared directly into Kasper, trying to intimidate him.

“I don’t have it here, and I’m sure that my daughter wouldn’t want you disturbing her. I could bring it to you on Monday, if that’s all right.” Kasper half smiled, and walked back over to his desk. He didn’t sit down though.

“You don’t understand Ripley. I need that paper. If I don’t get it, then it could be turned in and get leaked out it the wrong people. The boss doesn’t want that, and I don’t want that. So, Ripley, the paper?” Durant walked forward, stretching out his hand.

Kasper looked from his hand to his face, and back to his hand.

“I told you Durant. I do not have the paper with me. If you want to wait until Monday — ”

“Damn it Ripley! I hate to do this…” Durant started to walk around Kasper’s desk. He tightened his hand into a fist as he got closer.

Kasper braced himself, and very quickly grabbed the key that was laying out and threw it over his shoulder. It landed on top of one of the many books that lined the walls.

Durant picked up Kasper and threw him across the room. Glass shattered and covered both him and the floor.

Rose shook her head and once more stopped the flashback.

She knew now where the key was to the case, and inside the case was a book. A book that she believed to contain her father’s documents.

She practically flew out of the room and down the stairs. She slipped on some shoes and locked the door behind her.

Today was her some what lucky day. Brian pulled into the driveway as soon as the door was shut.

Rose ran out to the black Volvo and threw open the passenger side door. She slid in, the clear case in her lap.

“No time to explain.” She told Brian’s surprised face. “I need to go to my father’s office again.”

Brian shut his mouth and put the car in reverse. He didn’t ask a single question on the way there, and did way over the speed limit.

Rose’s anticipation didn’t help anyone. Her heart rate had sky rocketed, she was sure of it. Unbelievable as it was, they didn’t hit a single red light on the way there.

Brian pulled into the parking lot of Kasper’s office and swiftly parked in front. Rose got out and ran up to the front doors, not caring who saw. Brian was following her, trying to keep up with her pace.

She reached the elevator and held it open until Brian got in. The doors closed and Brian turned to face her.

“Would you kindly tell me why the hell you’re here?” He panted.

“It’s about my father’s documents. They’re in this case, but it’s locked. Don’t ask me how I know, but I know that the key to open it is inside my father’s office.” Rose looked up at the elevator’s floor counter. It was at fourteen. She felt like it was taking way to long.

“Okay. I won’t ask you how you know. But you do know that they searched everywhere in that office and found nothing. Not even a key.” Brian’s breathing drew back to normal.

“That’s because it’s not in an obvious place.” Rose replied. The elevator finally hit the eighteenth floor. She rushed out and into her father’s office. Glass still littered the floor. They might have searched the entire room, but they certainly hadn’t cleaned it up yet. Rose took that as a good sign. She set down the case and walked over to the book shelf. She pulled down the astrology book, oddly enough, and there, on top of it, rested the key to her father’s clear case.

Brian ran inside of the room, and caught his breath when he saw Rose with the key. “Where’d you get that?” He questioned.

Rose ignored him for now. She walked silently over to the case, put the key inside, and twisted it.

Instantly, the case’s top flipped open. She reached inside and pulled out the book. It was her mother’s astrology book. Her favorite one. He had hidden it in Annabelle’s favorite book.

She flipped through the pages until she hit the start of The Seven Sisters of Pleiades. She flipped one more page, and there in front of her, was the black folder that her father had shown her so many years ago. She set the book down on the desk and opened up the black folder. A tear came rushing down her cheek as she read it.

Brian walked over to her and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders.

“What is it Rosie?” He asked, looking down at the white sheet of paper.

“It’s a cure for cancer.” Rose said. She looked over at Brian and smiled.

~ ? ~