Castillo. It's a small town just off the main road, down the hill leading to the beach. You can miss it if you're not looking. Not because of its size, mind you, but because it's off the beaten path - hiding behind the hill.
Castillo means castle, I think. Spanish settlers, maybe. Who knows? It's where I was born, grew up, went to elementary and high school, before moving away to the nearest city to college. 17 thousand dollars in student loans later, and still no permanent work, after one year of graduation. That makes me 22 years young, as my dad used to say.
Dad. He's the reason I'm coming back for a few weeks - not that I have better places to be than his funeral. We weren't close. He wasn't a bad father or anything - he just never cared for me, really. My parents split up when I was 5. An affair that led to complications, my dad's mistress having a baby on his arm and revealing it at church in grandiose fashion. Scandal to be assured. My dad was cast out of the community, my mom was shamed to no end, leaving us, mom, my sisters and me, to deal with the outcry and backlash from the community.
We survived, of course, but mom closed herself off too for a while, and we were left to fend for about a year. Then, as she recovered from the shock, she got really protective of us, the opposite end of the spectrum. We all left at 17 for college, or other reasons. Stacey was first, 2 years before me (so she's 24) - she went out to travel the world in Europe, hooked up with some guy over there, and remained for a time until she got tired, dumped him and moved back. She's now studying to become a landscape artist. Then it was me - I haven't been back except for holidays and an odd week during the summer for my mom's birthday. Finally, Heather, the youngest of us, also wandered out to college, three years after me (making her 19), leaving my mom all alone in our house. Heather's been swapping degrees; her first year, she studied in History, but then moved to Psychology. I'm expecting her to swap majors again next year.
Obviously, they're also coming to the funeral. Man was a bastard in love, but he wasn't mean to us per se; he was always on time with payments to my mom and, although we rarely saw him, when we did, he had this kind, quiet composure, never bitter or angry. Always smiling, or at least pretending to be. I'm older now so... I can understand what he must have been feeling. I suppose that's why I came to the funeral - why we are all there, in fact.
My mom's been doing her best, the last two years, alone. She's never had anyone serious in her life since my dad. For one year, she dated one of her coworkers, but it didn't work out and she called it off. She still works, or rather, she's been working to supplement her income since we've moved out, since my dad no longer had to pay alimony. I do remember that she got a stipend every month still, but she never touched it. It's money from the man who betrayed her, so when we were gone, she had no desire to keep taking his cash. It's resting in a bank account, somewhere. My mom's probably saving it for us, if we ever need it.
All these thoughts cross my mind as I make my way towards the notary's office. I walk silently, dressed in black, and I pull up to the door, then pull it open for my family. Mom walks in first - she hasn't been crying but her eyes are still swollen. She smiles at me and I catch her dark brown eyes peering into my soul; she's hoping my heart isn't suffering too much. I reassure her with a smile and she walks on. My two sisters ignore me mostly; we haven't had much of a chance to talk since we got here, and we may not, depending on how things go in there. I walk in after them, catching a waft of perfume from either Heather or Stacey. It's a pleasant, flowery scent. It reminds me of the flowers we left with the casket.
Down the hall, someone is waiting to usher us into the office; the notary has all the documents sealed in an envelope, waiting to be read. I help my mom to sit as my sisters go for chairs; I end up without one, so I just lean in against the door frame. The notary is a burly man, in his late fifties, balding spot. His voice is raspy as he breaks the silence.
- Well now... well now.
He stares at my mother a bit too long for my tastes.
- Mrs. Hammond...
- It's Miss Carrier, or Jane, she politely corrects him.
- Yes, of course. Jane. And your children are here too.
She introduces us, pointing to each as she gives our names, in order of birth.
- Stacey. My son Grant. And Heather.
I bow when my name is called out. The notary acknowledges me and my sisters, then moves on.
- There was no one else mentioned in the will, so I shall proceed.
My mother seems surprised.
- No one? Else? she blurts out.
- Quite so, the man confirms. I have consulted the presentation letter and no other names are mentioned.
Our mother glances back at us, concerned. We know what she is thinking but we decide to table that discussion for now. We let the notary read out the details. It's boring stuff. My father lived in an apartment and he's donating all the furniture in there to my mom. There are also a few trinkets to hand out to his children. He made boxes for each of us. My mom smirks.
- It's a revenge, she plainly says. I have to take the will as is if you are to get your boxes. He's making me sell all his stuff. He knew I want none of it!
- We can do it for you, mom! Stacey claims, waving her head and making her auburn hair dance about. It's no biggie.
- Absolutely! Stacey confirms.
My sisters look at me; it wasn't my intention, but I decide, for the sake of my mother, to go along.
- Just let handle it, mom.
- I'll still want to see what he had, she mentions. Although why he kept ME in the will, I will never understand.
We finish our tasks at the notary and get his keys; my father had no vehicle so it's only two keys, the front and back doors of his apartment. As we head out, my mom grabs my arm.
- Thanks for doing this for me.
The commentary is meant for the three of us; we quietly acknowledge it.
- Can we get something to eat first? Heather asks. I haven't eaten this morning.
- That's your problem! my older sister replies.
- Please, mom?
- Let's get takeout, I propose.
We jump into mom's car and let Heather take the wheel; she's still learning how to drive, and this is as good a moment as any. Mom sits with her in front, so I end up in the back, behind mom, with Stacey at my side. I glance at her. She's been working in the sun; her tan is far more pronounced than before. She turns her head and sees me staring.
- What?
- Gotta learn to put some sunscreen on, Stacey! I banter.
- Shut up! she snarks back.
I giggle inwardly; nothing's changed, even after so many years. It's fine with me. Middle child, and all, I remind myself. Stacey had to be the adult and lead by example; Heather was allowed much more freedom being the youngest. I was somewhere in between, a mix of responsibility and fun.
The drive-thru is quick service and we bring the food along, Heather only scrounging up a few fries as she passes the order to my mom. She drives slowly, with the unease of someone who hasn't yet adapted to the responsibility on the road. I stare at her a moment, catching the glint of hazel eyes as our gazes meet in the mirror. She smiles.
- So what's going on with you? Stacey asks me nonchalantly.
- Nothing much.
