Family

I watch the snowfall blanketing the street below, drawing a heart shape on the frosty window. “I don’t like lawyers,’ I mused to myself, trudging down the steps, wearing layers of clothes ready to face the icy fingers of the winter's wind.  ‘It’s not fit for man or beast,’ I said with a chuckle, clutching my coat tighter, trying to stay warm as I hail a cab.  And after a few attempts, one stopped up at the corner, wadding through the snow, as the air steals my breath.

“Where to?” the cab driver said, keeping his eye on the meter—barely noticing me in the back seat.

“Uptown, 5^th and Market,” I said, tugging at the seatbelt as he pulls out into the street.

With the glass barrier between us, ‘I wonder if that is protection for him or me?” As he weaves in and out of traffic, ‘I guess for me,’ I said under my breath, holding on to the armrest, the color draining from my knuckles.  ‘All in due time,’ that was what my mom always would say to help my impatience. ‘Yeah, I know, mom.”

“Did you say something, Ms.?” he said, as I saw the reflection of his raised eyebrows in the rear-view mirror.

“Um, no,” I answered, “I’m fine,” gazing out the side window,  while different conversations drift  in and out my thoughts, and the one question that I can hear my older brother Frank asking me is ‘What are you planning to do now?’  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, to myself, taking a deep breath as I wrestle with an unnamed fear already stirring within my heart. Making plans has never been one of my most potent abilities, always last minute.  That was more of Franks’ specialty, making plans and carrying them through, while I would throw caution to the wind and hope for the best.

“Here you go, Ms.,” he said, pulling up in front of the Law Office of Miller and Miller, the old brownstone building looms up from the street, two oak trees standing guard along its side. ‘Please, Lord, help me,’ was the prayer that my mom would say whenever she faced a challenge, and right now, I seem to be in the middle of one.   A chilly breath lingers for a moment, feeling the cold penetrating from the railing through my gloves, diligently following the footsteps left in the snow.

 The door opened as the house's warmth illuminated the cold air. Standing there was a young lady, maybe in her early twenties, who said, “How may I help you, Ms..?” a  whiff of honeysuckle perfume caught me off guard, trigging a distant memory of long ago.  

“I’m.., um.., have an appointment with Mr. Miller,”

“Which one? Mr. Miller Senior or his son?” the young lady asks, her head tilted as she waited for my answer.

“I, um.., I guess Mr.Miller Senior.”

“Very well, please follow me,” her heels echoed as we pass through the decorative hallway, stoic faces of men from the past, their watchful eyes looking from beyond the grave. A tingling sensation ran down my spine as I closely followed her, leading me to a door partially hung open. Upon entering, the aroma of old books and cigars like cobwebs clung to the furniture.

“That will be all, my dear,” the older man said to  her, turning his gaze toward me, “Please, Ms. Gest, have a seat.” As he gesture toward a wing-back chair next to where my brother Frank was sitting.

“Thank you.., Mr.?”

“Miller, Robert,” he answered, leaning back on the chair, his thumb pushes up his glasses from the tip of his stout nose.

“Mr., um, I mean, Robert. Nice to meet you,”

“Now, since you both are here, let’s go on with the business on hand, and that is your parents ‘ Will.”

Frank gives me a wink and said, “That’s why we are here,”

“Yes, there is one stipulation concerning their Will before we can move ahead.” Mr. Miller stated,  the chair squeaks  as his body shifts forward,

My hands are gripping the arms of the chair, the color draining from my face as I tried to ask ‘Why’ only silence came out when I opened up my mouth—a whirlwind of thoughts swirling around in my mind. ‘There has to be a mistake,’ I partially said aloud, searching Franks’s eyes if he had known about this problem. ‘What was it?’ I thought as a realization came to me, ‘He knew, didn’t he?’

“Sis, where are you going?” Frank said as his steps caught up to mine.

“You knew, didn’t you? 

“What-?”

“Don’t give that. You knew all along.”

“Wait here,” Frank said, walking back into Mr. Millers' office.

“May I help you, Ms?’ the young lady asks

“Huh?”

“Do you need my help?” she said

“Um.., no, I’m waiting for my brother,” glancing over toward the door.

“ Well, are You ready to go?” Frank said,

*******

Sunlight filters through the window, the laughter of children playing down the street below, a smile stretches across my face. ‘A happier time,’ I said with a quiet sigh. The innocence of the past fading and in its wake, a discovery was born. With a stroke of a pen, everything change, a name surface, Tempest, our sister.

 I found myself gazing out past the trees to the horizon, wondering what to do with this revelation.  ‘Wait, dear,’ is what my mother would say, ‘that is the best thing to do when you are facing a problem.’ ‘Wait for what?’ I wonder, holding an unopened letter from her, debating whether or not to open the letter or wait.

‘Time,’ I mused, sipping a cup of hot tea, ‘that’s what I need right now, is more time.’ But there isn’t any time left for me to wait. ‘We have to make a decision.” That’s is what Frank had said the other day on the phone. 

“I don’t like lawyers,” I said out loud, grabbing my apartment keys, trudging down the steps. A gentle breeze kisses my cheeks as I hail a cab. Within a few minutes, one cab pulls up as I quickly settled in the seat.

“Where to, Ms” the cab driver askes as I notice the color of his eyes in the rear-view mirror

“Uptown, 5^th, and Market”, I replied.

‘Tempest,’ I whispered, getting out of the cab, standing there, a woman, a mirror of my mother, soft blue eyes with hair the color of the sun and a familiar scent, honeysuckle perfume. We stood there for a moment, no words as we embrace each other.

 “Tempest, it is so nice to meet you, after all these years,” as we walk up the steps into the lawyers' office for the reading of our parents Will.

‘Time, ‘is what my mother used to say, ‘ has its way of changing things.’ And I would agree that time does change like a shifting of sand in an hour-glass. It never remains the same.