Unit 363

Molly Prichett and her brother James drove in silence on the way to the storage facility. Their 83-year-old grandfather had just bit the dust, keeled over, kicked the bucket, died-as they say. Their family had done the traditional mourning period followed by the nasty business of distributing dear ole grandad’s…stuff. Grandpa Pritchett was in layman’s terms, a hoarder. He was also a self-proclaimed inventor.

Every time an infomercial came on Grandpa Prichett would yell, “I thought of that 28 years ago!”

Those in the family would nod and say, “What a shame, a rip off, those rapscallions!” And go about doing whatever it was that they were doing before the interruption.

Molly would sit by her grandad and listen to his story of how he created the Snuggie. She missed those days.

The gravel underneath their rented U-Haul crunched as James guided their vehicle in front of unit 333.

James hopped out of the truck and stretched his lanky arms. James William Pritchett, named after his grandfather, William James Pritchett, was a newly hired professor at the local community college. He taught advanced European literature and had five students in each of his three classes, but you wouldn’t have known his lowly enrollment numbers based on the way he boasted about his lectures. His single gold earring glinted in the Texas sun as he rolled up his sleeves and lifted the storage unit door open. Molly laughed as it came back down and wacked James in the head, but she pretended not to notice.

“Molly!” James shouted once inside the unit. “Come check this out!”

Molly sighed and slid slowly out of the passenger seat. She slipped down the cheap polyester seats and sharp vibrations shot through the bottoms of her feet as she slammed her heels into the hard dirt.

“Why do I always get stuck cleaning up the family messes?” Molly mumbled under her breath.

Molly was her grandad’s favorite. Only she called her grandad, grandad and technically only she inherited this storage unit. James weaseled his way in at the thought of ransacking some of grandad’s Tolstoy collection. Although a bit perturbed, Molly didn’t mind. She was a middle school teacher living in a one-bedroom apartment with her good for nothing boyfriend, Richard of 7 years. Where would she fit a bookshelf of Russian novels?

After her less than graceful exit from the U-Haul, Molly stumbled into the 10x10 storage unit. There was barely enough space for Molly and James to stand next to each other. Mountains of boxes and random oddities peeked around every corner. Molly’s foot stepped on what looked like sheet music for a children’s musical while James’s head brushed up against a tall lamp shade that resembled a flapper’s dress.

James let out an anguished sigh. “Where do we even begin?”

Molly took it all in and estimated at least 3 hours of work. “Just grab a box and throw it in the truck” she said.

…

About two hours later, they had managed to clear out about half of the unit. It took them even longer considering how many items were left unboxed and without a home.

James groaned and flopped onto the icy concrete floor. “Can’t we stop and get lunch? I’m so hungry, Molly!”

Molly picked up a questionable checkered scarf. “If we stop now it’ll take us even longer.”

“What if we just came back tomorrow? After a good meal and some sleep, I’ll be ready to finish.”

“Absolutely not.”

James rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet. “Half this stuff doesn’t even look like what Grandad owned.

Molly, dripping in sweat narrowed her eyes and glared at James. “How would you even recognize Grandpa’s stuff if it’s been locked in a storage unit for literally decades?”

“I’m just saying that Grandpa had random shit laying around his house like tools and battery packs. I didn’t expect his storage unit to look like something out of an Antique Roadshow.”

It was odd. Yes, the general idea of what kind of things an old person may leave behind were in the unit…but it didn’t feel like her grandad. Molly’s gaze wandered towards a pile of vintage board games. Grandad hated Monopoly. He said it bred capitalist greed in young children…but surely it makes sense that he has the game?

Because it’s just a game?

She glanced at the scarf still in her hand. She never saw her grandad wear a scarf. He was a cut off and khaki shorts in December kind of guy.

Although she was puzzled, Molly decided to brush it off.

“Maybe there was more to grandad than we thought.” She shrugged.

Still looking unconvinced, James lifted another box from the storage unit floor and lugged it out to the truck.

…

Another hour went by, and the unit was finally cleared. James was in a foul mood since he didn’t find Tolstoy, but Molly felt accomplished. It was like a weight of musty cardboard boxes and random knick knacks had been ceremoniously lifted from her shoulders.

Just as they were about to shut the unit door, a man in a bright orange ball cap and a sleeveless flannel shirt that looked like a wildebeest tore it apart came running around the corner.

“What’re y'all doing in my unit? What happened to all my shit?!” The man yelled.

Molly turned to get a closer look at the man, almost expecting to see her grandad risen from the grave. Spoiler. It was not.

Before Molly could say anything, James interjected. “What do you mean your unit? This belonged to our grandfather before he passed so we’re just cleaning it out.”

James was a bear when he got hungry. And this man was poking him with a stick.

Before the man or James could say anything else, another man came speeding up on a rickety old golf cart. There was no better way to describe this man other than round. His cheeks were like two apples and his belly showed evidence of a drinking habit. As he approached, he was clearly flustered and out of breath. His face looked as rosy as a Disney princess.

“Hello, I’m the manager and I am SO sorry. My colleague, or should I say former colleague, from the morning shift gave you the incorrect unit.”

Molly and James shared a look before Molly said, “You’re not talking to us…are you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The manager said. “I am terribly sorry and do hope you accept this complimentary coupon for a month off of rent.”

Molly was shocked. Pissed. Angry even. But she kept her composure. “We don’t need the rent. We came to clear out my grandad’s unit since he passed.”

“I’ll take it. And my shit back!” Said the wildebeest victim from earlier.

Behind her, James scoffed. “We just spent the last three hours clearing out this man’s storage unit. Where’s the right one then? And I hope you don’t expect us to put all this shit back right now, I’m starving.”

The manager shifted his feet from side to side before saying, “My boys will do it! We’ve got some maintenance crew around here that will get it taken care of in no time. Maybe an hour…or two?”

“TWO HOURS?” James yelled.

Molly put her hand up and said, “Fine. An hour…or two. During that time, you can take us to the correct unit.” She was seething but years of disappointment from her boyfriend made her an expert at keeping her anger at bay.

“Yes, yes of course. Right away. It’s Unit 363.” The manager patted the seats on the golf cart, and they sped away from Unit 333 with James in the back begrudgingly.

As they approached the correct unit, Molly suddenly became anxious. She felt unnerved. How could this colossal mistake have been made? She practiced the breathing techniques her therapist had taught her when Richard was being especially insufferable. Breathe in two-three and out two-three. Grandad thought it was a crock. Her relationship with Richard-not the therapy. He was the only one who ever had the guts to tell her how he truly felt. But she still stayed with him…why?

“Here we are!” The manager nervously exclaimed. “I’m sure this is a more private moment with your grandfather’s passing and all. Terribly sorry for that…and sorry again for the uh- mix up.”

And with that the manager handed James the keys, hopped into his golf cart, and sped away.

“What an ass. Couldn’t even be bothered to wait around and give us a ride back.” James said.

“We’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Molly sighed. “There’s just no way I can do this twice in one day.”

“Fine by me. As long as we get some food.” James patted his stomach as he reached to unlock the unit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” They said in unison as the storage unit’s door slid open. In the middle of the unit was a single envelope on top of a book. There were no boxes, or scarves, or games of Monopoly. Just the envelope and a book.

Molly slowly approached the items as if they would jump out at her. She picked them up and looked first at the book. Anna Karenina, by Tolstoy. She handed the book to James, who like a boy at Christmas nabbed it gleefully.

Molly was more focused on the letter. On the front of the envelope, in her grandad’s chicken scratch was one word.

Molly.

Inside the letter was a key to her grandad’s house along with the deed. On the deed there was a bright yellow sticky note with the words:

Leave him.

Love, Grandad.