Just in Case

When people write their wills, it’s normally in front of a lawyer, not at one’s ratty kitchen table at two in the morning. It wasn’t that he had to write a will, but after the ‘incident’ with his sister, he might as well write something down for his coworkers to find if that day comes earlier than anticipated.

He sat in his cold, poorly lit apartment, with a flimsy one subject notebook in front of him. In his hand was a chewed up pencil with an overused eraser top now stained gray from all his mistakes. He’s gone through pages upon pages of his notebook now, the unused pages starting to dwindle. He tapped his pencil against the cracked and beaten up table, unsure of what to write.

On the paper so far was his name; ‘Elliott Dewey’ centered on the first line of the page, but he couldn’t get past that. His gaze shifted to the balls of paper scattered around the floor; all his failed attempts. He swallowed thickly and looked back down at the paper. He didn’t want to waste yet another page of his notebook; he still needed to use that after all.

He took a deep breath and put his pencil to paper. ‘I’m deeply sorry for whoever finds this letter among the mess that is my apartment, but I’m writing this as a “just in case”.’ His hands were shaking now. He shook them out and started again.

‘I know that there isn’t much here, but if things were to end poorly one day, I want to leave whatever cash I have left in my account to Emera Baker, my first boss and my closest friend. I leave the furniture, if it’s still in good enough condition, to any charity of Emera’s choice.’ He glanced over his shoulder and at his room, surly someone could use an almost ten year old bed frame, right? He shook his head and looked back at his paper.

‘Or, if the furniture is in unusable condition, just put it on the curb and leave it for the city’s garbage men to deal with. And if someone just so happens to walk by and find it, may they find a good use for whatever it is they grab.’ He leaned back in his chair, hands muffling the whimper he let out.

“Why am I writing this?” He said into his hands. “I should be sleeping.” He groaned. He dropped his hands to his sides, his trusty pencil now rolling across the floor. The pencil hid under the table, away from the scrawny teen. He stared at the clock that hung above the paint-chipped door, watching the time he had for sleep tick away, second by second.The ticks of the second hand of the clock filled the eerily quiet apartment, a quiet normally drowned out by screaming children or the argumentative couple next door.

He dropped his gaze back on his poorly written letter, oh how his handwriting was atrocious. He chuckled, looking at the chicken scratched words.

“Alyssa was right; my handwriting matches a kindergartener’s.” His small smile changed to a solemn frown as his mind wandered back to the ‘incident’. It’d been almost four years since it happened, but he still found himself thinking about how he and his sister could still be living happily together, well, as happy as they could living paycheck to paycheck.

At least he wouldn't be alone, neither would his sister.

He shook his head and slapped his head lightly.

“Stop it, stop getting distracted, Elliott!” He scolded himself as he fished around under the table for his pencil. He had to finish this, he’d been putting it off for three years now. With a huff, he put his pencil back to paper and continued writing. 

‘For the final services I leave Emera in charge as she was the only one by my side when I needed her to help plan a different funeral.’ He exhaled sharply, trying to keep his train of thought on writing the paper. ‘I do not care what I’m buried in as long as I’m not naked. And if Emera wishes I be cremated, then so be it. All I ask is that I’m either buried or have my ashes released by Alyssa Dewey’s grave.’ He shook off his hand. It wasn’t that he was tired of writing, no, not even close to being tired, it just felt odd to write down his sister’s name again.

‘As for Susan and Jack Dewey, our parents, I wish that they do not, under any circumstance, come to the wake or funeral or whatever Emera had planned. I don’t even want them to know where Alyssa is buried nor do I want them to know what happened to my body. After all the years of pain they caused us I do not ever want them near me or my sister again. They kicked us out, saying that they wanted nothing to do with us, so I, using what limited power I have, want them far, far away from the final services.’ He sighed angrily, his emotions were boiling over and making his already poor handwriting worse. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing once more.

‘To end, I wanted to thank all my past employers for giving me a chance to work with you and your amazing teams. Thank you for all the fun memories and experiences you gave me. And to Emera, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for treating me and Alyssa like your own children. Thank you for all the help with school and bills and the funeral. I loved working with you and your team, your store truly brought a smile to my face. I’m sorry for all the trouble this letter is going to cause you, and know that I’m only writing this because of how dangerous the city is.’ He lied. Even in writing he can’t bring himself to tell Emera everything that’s on his mind.

‘I wish you, your family, and your team the best. Sincerely, Elliott Dewey.’ He tossed his pencil across the table and watched it roll right onto the floor. He finished. He finally finished something. He was only proud for a moment as he had to stuff the letter into an envelope with the words ‘Just in case’ written on the back.

With the newly filled and sealed envelope in hand, he went to his room. He placed it on his dresser, the envelope leaning against the only picture of he and his sister he had. He looked at the envelope, then at the clock. It was two thirty in the morning; he had to be up in less than six hours for class. He flopped onto his bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“I can’t fucking wait for this semester to end.” He mumbled to no one as he curled up on his side and tried to sleep. He knew it wouldn’t be able to, but he could at least say he tried.