THE LETTER

VIOLET

I run through the kitchen with my red and pink colored backpack, giving James and Molly a heads up that I have an emergency call at home.

Then heading my way out, waving at the counter and called out, "Hey, Ellie! Please work your best with the kitchen while I'm away. Sorry, but need to be home right now... Margaret called in for emergency!" suppressing my tears, pressing my hanky into my eyes.

"But... wait up! Do you know who's our arrogant customer earlier? I have searched him and..." her eyes spark in delight and excitement.

"I need to go... talk to you later, okay?" I interrupted her, rolling my eyes and holding my temper.

[How could she be so insensitive!]

I head out myself from the junction quickly before she will talk more non-sense and wasting my time.

I jogged outside, at the side of the junction, took my keys out from the pocket, unlocking the bike lock of my 2-year-old red fat bike, the only investment that I have ever since I have been working in the junction.

Having a fat bike in Smithson Village is very much helpful for me, riding to and from work towards our small rented cabin even on cold days and hotter days, 8 minutes is the maximum in my quick detour.

Never experienced being late to work.

"Hello, Miss Manager! Could I ask you something?" a low-pitched voice called out from my back.

I turned to face him, trying my best to hold up my jaw, showing unstirred by the latest Audi car that he leaned on, the only car that parked in the open parking space outside Jerry's Junction.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. But, I'm in a hurry!" jumps into my bike as soon as it's unlocked and pedaled as quickly as I could.

I saw him at my side glance, he got in his car with his bodyguards, tailing in.

[What is he doing? Why is following me? Oh, No! He might be a handsome young tycoon in human trafficking!]

I tried to trick him through the highway then follow the pathway towards the huge meadow.

[I'm glad he missed my way!] then I turned into the footpath of the small wooden forest, and the last thing, crossing a 1970 railroad and entered another pathway towards the back of our home.

The small 2 bedroom log cabin, has burl logs inside and out, it has a metal roof, we have a generator shed, a greenhouse, a storage shed, and a woodshed, it's quite a job during winter.

Margaret's voice still lingers in my head like broken audio, "Hello, Violet? You have to come home quickly! Amanda needs you right now, she wanted to give you something. She keeps calling out your name. Hurry, please!" the shaky voice of my mother's best friend, in her not so many panic attack.

Margaret is an angel to us, for me and my mother.

They were friends since I was a toddler and she was able to nanny me during my younger years.

I'm always glad that Margaret is beside her, in her lowest time, and her critical situation.

I round my bike towards the front yard, immediately parked my fat bike beside the classic red Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham owned by Margaret, and rushed inside the cabin.

My maroon puff sleeve, pleated pintuck neck, button-down placket uniform is soaking from sweat for the first time in my biking life.

I always enjoyed riding my bike, enjoying the breeze during spring and autumn, hating the cold winter but always mesmerize by the frozen lake nearby.

"Lady Violet Rose?" a weak voice coming from the room beside our living area, the only person calling me with my complete first name, my mother.

Margaret meet me halfway in the living room, "Your sweating hun! I'll get you a drink and a spare shirt. I do not want you sick!" muttering her words and signaled me to get in.

I run through my hanky into my face, drying up the sweat and tears that piled up when I came inside the house.

I do not want Amanda to worry about me, she always reminds me every time, "You have to take care of yourself, my princess! Mama, will not be here forever. The world is no longer safe for you, you have to learn to fight for yourself."

And with that, she sent me to a Karate Class during my primary school until my second year of high school for self-defense and I never failed her, I had my black belt when I was in 5th grade.

"Lady Violet Rose?" her voice so weak, she's like whispering in the wind, to let it reached me.

Her vision got altered by her chemotherapy, she barely sees me at all.

She relied upon blurry images and voice, "I'm here mom..." I move closer to the bedside, took her hands with mine, her head is covered with her favorite black floral turban bandana, she already collected different kinds of colors ever since her chemo started.

"Glad your home..." she held my hands, rubbing it into her cold cheeks "I'm so sorry...I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry, I haven't been a good mother to you. I'm sorry that you missed your college because of me." Her pale face and shallow breathing brought me goosebumps and tears.

I'm speechless.

[How could I tell her that how difficult for me to see that she's living yet death is showing all over her face?]

Every strength in me flushed down each time I see her in her bed, feeding her favorite broth with chicken strips, tofu, and veggies, or sometimes oatmeal with avocado and boiled eggs, and the struggles of her vomiting and nausea while taking in her different kinds of medicines and supplements.

Time management is the hardest for me.

Preparing everything, from her food, her medicine, freshen her up, and change clothes in the morning before leaving for work.

And Margaret will help her throughout the day, in my 12 hours shift.

I always arrived at 8:30 at night, cooking my dinner and eat alone.

Then suddenly, she stopped holding my hands and reached out something from her bedside table, an envelope.

She handed the envelope into my hands and slowly removed the ring from her finger and put it into my ring finger, a beautiful gold ring with a huge jade locket at the center "My... dear... Lady Violet Rose... always wear this ring... keep it safe for your future" then she took her last breath.

"Mother!?!" I hugged her tight for the last time, mourning and weeping until my tears run dry, for the pain of losing her and fear of my future of being alone.

I do not know how the funeral service was set up.

All I know, Margaret never leave my side throughout the night.

She is the busiest inside the house while I'm beside my mother before she's taken by the funeral home's personnel at noon.

Mr. Jerry Robert Smithson came in the house later in the afternoon, after his school work.

The night comes, I never had enough sleep, bombarded with a lot of things in my head.

And the day of her burial arrived.

I wiped my last tears in front of the grave of my mother, one by one the whole village people left her alone, seated on the chair, watching the cemetery personnel closed down the tomb, the funeral service was offered free by the village headman, Mr. William Quest.

I haven't had the chance to open the envelope that my mother had given me.

I took the envelope from my black leather jacket's pocket and a handwritten name in front of it.

To: Amelia Stern De Fuller

My hands shaking, moist with sweat as I open the envelope and reads the letter.

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Dear Aunt Amelia,

As you read this letter, probably I'm already dead.

Please take Lady Violet Rose with you to Castle Quest.

She needs her real family.

Please do the rightful thing for me.

I'm so sorry for everything.

Love,

Amanda Stern

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