by Kira Saito
“Where have you been hiding all this time?” I asked Charlene unable to fully process what I was hearing.
“In the bathroom of the Bridal Suite at Madame Queenie’s when you were around. I hung out in the room when you weren’t around.” Chris and I glanced at each other. We weren’t as smart as we assumed. “Here.” Charlene handed me a note.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Zoe’s last words. She had me remember them and had me promise to write them down.”
Tears streamed down my face as I opened up the piece of paper. My knees shook as I read the words: This isn’t a dress rehearsal, this is your life. Live, Mom, live.
I fell to the earth and wept and wept over my baby’s tomb. Chris placed his arms around me. “It’s okay to fall to pieces, sugar. You have people who are ready to help put you back together again,” he said letting me cry until the tears had run out.
One Year Later
Kate
“Sugar? Is that really you?” Chris let out a soft whistle as he took in my healthier frame.
“Still wearing that stupid hat,” I teased as I took a sip of iced tea. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve got some great ideas about potential stories.”
“I’m all ears,” he said taking a seat and pulling out his laptop.
A year had passed since my world had come crashing down on me again. In that time, I had checked into rehab and had managed to break my pill-popping habit. Of course, every day was still a struggle, but every day was also a choice. A choice to honor Zoe’s wishes and to live and not to merely exist. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of her, but in death as in life, she had saved me and I wanted to make her proud. In wanting to do so, I had become friends with Jay Simmons’ family and visited them once a week for dinner and helped them out the best I could. I would be eternally grateful for the young man who had been such a good friend to my daughter and had helped in ways that I hadn’t been able to.
The explosive story that Chris and I had uncovered was rejected by every major newspaper in the country even Sylvia refused to publish it. I suppose that she was afraid of pissing off the wrong people. It had been labeled as fake news by the mainstream media and Mr. Dubois had been painted as a victim, an innocent bystander whose business and marriage had been ruined by the false accusations. Mrs. Dubois had since divorced him, and Charlene had mysteriously turned up alive. Chris and I had made countless documentaries with the evidence we had found against Mr. Dubois, Richard, the Catsberg family, and many other powerful players including Nigel Thomas. The public was outraged and began boycotting their businesses. Multiple other women had since gathered the courage and had come forth to share their own experiences of how Nigel Thomas had sexually harassed them. Crumbling under public pressure, his publisher had since dumped him, and his book sales had plummeted. Richard’s restaurant had been shut down and we saw that as a small victory as there were many other places just like his.
We had a long way to go, but I was optimistic that justice would prevail especially with good men such as Detective Ryan who had cleared me of all charges. He had joined Chris and I in our crusade after carefully reviewing the evidence we had presented him with. There was so much work to be done, but surprisingly I was more hopeful now than I had been a year ago. I knew that the world with all of its villains was also home to countless heroes such as Detective Ryan, Madame Queenie, Chris, Charlene, Mrs. Dubois and I guess me, who were willing to put their own lives and reputations on the line in order to help others.
“Sugar? Are you there?” Chris interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I said.
“What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how lucky I am …”
“Well … That’s … That’s sweet.”
“Kind of like sugar.” I gave him a small wink and was proud that he and his stupid hat had become such an important part of my life.
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