Page 88 of Mic Drop

The front door opens, and Kara brings a big black trash bagoutside.No more procrastination. I’m here. I turn off the ignition and join my sister at the trash container.

“You made it.”

I pick up the lid for her. “How’s it going?”

She stuffs the bag into it and sighs. “There’s so much to do. Selling her house is the right thing to do, but there’s so much stuff in here.”

How can she appear so resigned to the chore? Another sob begs to be let free, but I refuse. I need to be as strong as Kara and get through this. “I’m here now. Put me to work.” I struggle to put the lid back on, which finally falls into place. Too bad my life never will do the same.

We walk inside the house—really, only an empty shell. With lots and lots of things piled everywhere. Kara explains how she’s been dividing up all of Ma’s stuff, and I’m reminded of the scene with the Ghost from Christmas Yet to Come fromA Christmas Carol,when the people come to take Ebenezer Scrooge’s possessions away. I square my shoulders. I’m not like those unnamed characters. I loved Ma. She was my world.

Kara suggests, “How about we do her office? I’ve been through her closet and gave most of her clothes to charity.”

“Not the silk scarf?” It was my first gift to her after I got a job. She always wore it with pride.

“Of course not. I kept the things with sentimental value attached.”

“Thanks.”

With dragging feet, I follow my sister into the office. The desk has bills set into an upright calendar system. Kara takes one look at it and asks, “Why didn’t Ma do online banking?”

“I tried. She said she didn’t trust the banks and wanted to remain in control of her finances. Can’t say that I blame her.”Control. That’s a concept I can get behind.

“I’ll go through the filing cabinet while you sort through her desk,” she suggests.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kara opens a two-drawer filing cabinet and pulls out a file. “Think we need to keep the electric bill from two years ago?”

“I think it’s safe to shred,” I chuckle. She points out a variety of other memorabilia—if her stuff can be described as such—and throws it into the shredder.

On an inhale, I focus on my assignment. In no time, I have the top of her desk cleared, with most of the papers being shredded except for a few get well cards from her friends. All of whom were at her funeral. I swallow nothing and toss the cards.

My mind settles on Ma’s funeral, and a lingering question. “So, Kara, are you letting our father back into your life?”

She turns toward me. “What?” She puts down some paperwork. “Listen, I had ten more years with him than you did. We have more of a history. Truth is, though, he’s been out of my life for more years than he was in it. I told him I’d add him to my Christmas card list, but not to expect anything more from me.” She comes over and hugs me.

In her arms, I say, “Thank you.” We break apart, “I’m not willing to do even that, but I respect your decision.”

“You got it, kiddo.” Her hand waves toward the rooms. “Back to it?”

“Yeah.” My sister and I are building a relationship with each other. She can keep communicating with our father while I don’t have to, but it won’t affect us. I mull over this truth as I busy myself by opening the right desk drawer, which contains pens, paper clips, post-its, and other assorted office products. While it would be smart to keep this stuff, I only want it to disappear, so I throw it all away. The middle drawer boasts paper products like notepads, her passport, and even some old romance books featuring Fabio on the cover.

I hold up one for Kara to see and giggle. “Ma was a closet romantic.”

My sister agrees, and holds up another book, this time with Fabio as a pirate. “Seems like it.”

Wearing a smile for the first time, I toss everything but thepassport and go into the third, larger drawer. This one is filled with Kara’s schooling, from elementary school report cards to high school book reports, college tuition bills, and photos from her graduation from medical school. She also squirreled photos in here from Kara’s wedding, the birth of her two kids, and other family photos.

Seeing as this drawer was all about Kara, I glance to the matching drawer on the other side and take a deep breath. If past is prologue, I’m going to be diving into my life’s memories. Or the ones she kept through the years.

I open the drawer and, sure enough, I’m transported into the past. She has the same documents for me as she did for my sister, until you get to grad school. Then, she kept the program from my graduation ceremony. Followed by press clippings that followed my progress from physical therapist to clinic owner. Then two clinics.

She also kept the photos I sent her featuring Darren and me. I stop sorting and flip through these memories. There’s one of us kissing. Him performing on the keyboard. Me backstage screaming for the band. A sad smile crosses my lips.

The next picture makes me drop the stack. UC is onstage performing at a smaller gig, judging by the setup and how close the fans are to the stage. That’s not what has me gasping for air. No. It’s the way Darren’s playing the keys, with this head thrown backward. Standing next to him, singing into the mic while looking directly at the camera, is Bennett.

Kara’s at my side in an instant. “Are you all right? What are you looking at?”

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