To Luscious

The sun shown warm through the old-smelling window by the storefront.  Rachel was glad the rack of clothes she was glued to was so close to the window; she had been so cold that day and the sun felt so good.  Even though it was May there was still a chill in the air.  Maybe that's why it wasn't odd that Rachel was looking through a rack of mostly coats, even though summer was well on its way.  She loved visiting that little thrift store; it was situated on the street where her mom used to take her to get her hair cut when she was growing up.  She rummaged through the coats, her hands brushing against each of their unique textures.  Rachel stopped as she came across this buckskin colored coat with big red pockets in the front.  It looked like a man's jacket, like one you might wear to do work around the farm in the fall.  Rachel had always been a tomboy, so this looked exactly like something she would wear.  She knew without a doubt this was the coat for her.  She tried it on just to make sure it fit; it was a little roomy, but she didn't mind.  On her way out the door she was excited to wear the coat, and even a little disappointed she might not be able to wear it much before warmer weather came.

Before washing the coat she just had to put it on one more time, posing in front of the mirror.  It was strange but it felt like the coat had belonged to her before, but that she had forgotten about it, or maybe never knew about it to begin with.  In her head she told herself that was crazy, but the odd feeling still remained.  She put her hands in the deep, red pockets; she felt something, it was probably paper, maybe a receipt or list belonging to the previous owner.  She pulled out a folded paper, slightly yellowed with age.  Upon opening it, she saw it was a letter.  In cursive writing it read:

To Luscious,

I'm sorry I had to go like this, but you know things haven't been good for me here for a long time.  It has nothing to do with you, in fact you're the one thing that's kept me going!  I just think it's time I left.  I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd talk me into staying, so I left this note instead.  Even if I had stayed for now, I would have left eventually.  I do hope that you have the kind of life you've talked about, and I'm eager to see what kind of a life lies ahead for me; I think it will be better than the one I've led here (except for you not being there with me.)  We both know we don't choose the lives we get, but I want you to know I did the best I could, and I know you did.  You're so much stronger than I am.  I still want to see the places we've talked about for years, like the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls.  I know that doesn't make any sense to you now that I'm gone without you, but I still hope I can see the things we've always wanted to, in some way.  One of us has to find out first, and it's gonna be me, little brother.

Well, the canyon is calling...I'm gonna to miss you.

All the love, remember that.

- M

Rachel was in awe at the mystery behind this unknown story.  Hers was an active mind that always raced with theory and imagery.  Who was Luscious?  Even more pressing to her, who was “M”?  And where did they go?  Why did they leave?  She turned the note over, looking for any more clues; all that was written on the back was the date, Nov. 7, 1984.  She set the note on the dresser beside her bed; she didn't know what more she could possibly learn about a letter written by an unknown person to another unknown person, but yet, she planned on pondering it more later. 

That night she couldn't sleep and her mind latched onto theories about the letter.  Her vivid imagination worked best when it took a mystery and turned it to something relative to her.  She thought she'd have some fun pretending the note was somehow tied to her.  After all, her dad's name was Luke, similar enough to Luscious, she supposed.  And she did have an aunt she'd never met, named Mary.  She had only learned about her aunt when years ago she'd found an old picture of her dad as a teen, standing with a girl looking a similar age.  After being asked who the girl was, her dad told her it was his sister, Mary Ann.  However, further questions about his sister led to obvious withdrawal.  His face would depress, the emotion draining from it.  Her dad's blatant contrition on the subject of her mysterious aunt led her to quickly understand the topic was off limits.  Ever since then she could only assume that her aunt had been disowned by the family, or at least seemed severely estranged.  She never really thought she had died; what would be the reason in keeping that a secret?  But then, she couldn't be sure of anything, knowing so little about it.  She had never really thought too deeply about it...until now. 

A few days had passed and Rachel had sort of pushed thoughts of the letter to the back of her mind.  The attic was in desperate need of cleaning, and that's what she was focused on; it was supposed to have been done last spring but had gotten put off.  Rachel had a day to herself, with her dad at work and her mom at a seminar.  Rachel was disgusted to see that the roof in the attic had begun to leak at some point through the year, there were rusty colored stains on the bits of carpet that were randomly laid about.  Water stains were all over all the old cardboard storage boxes; she hoped nothing had been destroyed.  It had been so long since she'd even been up there; it was kind of fun to look around at all the old stuff. 

After having sorted through several items she grabbed at a green plastic tub off to the side.  It was full of old pictures, mostly of her dad in his growing-up years.  She flipped through the photos then stumbled upon something that stopped her in her tracks.  It was a picture of her dad; he looked about twenty or so and was standing in the yard in front of a house.  It seemed like an ordinary picture, except...he was wearing the jacket; the very jacket that she had just bought a few days ago.  How could that be?  She looked closer; the only difference in the coat from the picture was the vibrancy of its color.  One of the big, red pockets had a small bleach stain on it now, and the coat in general was a little faded; but it had to be the same one; it was a unique coat.  In more pictures, her dad (still wearing the coat) was with his sister; by all accounts they looked happy.  Some of those pictures had dates; any pictures dated after 1984 were only of her dad and his other family members; Mary was nowhere to be seen.  Rachel felt the disbelief wash over her like shock; this had to be some sort of coincidence...or did it?

Rachel then uncovered some photos of her mom and dad before she was born.  They looked like they were on an observation deck at some high summit; maybe during some sort of vacation.  On the backs of these were written the words, “Grand Canyon.” and were dated for 1993.  In one photo, her dad (who was obviously unaware of the camera) leaned against the railing of the over-look, gazing out intently at the vast abyss beyond him.  With all that Rachel now knew she saw every picture with new eyes.  She knew his quiet, contemplative look from the photo was a translation of a mind swelling with bitter-sweet feelings and emotions.  She could only imagine what was going through his mind at that moment, being where he was.  Her own mind was spinning at a furious rate, trying to comprehend the happenings that had occurred in the last few days; but she knew all these connections were merely the remnants of things that had already happened, so long ago.  This made her think, for the first time really, about the impact and the volume of life, and of lives.  She was shaken from her intense thoughts by the heavy thud of the door downstairs.  She looked at her watch; yes, it was about that time.  That would be her dad, home from work.