The Homecoming
Chapter One
Stephanie Cortez scribbled Women's Shelter across another sealed box of clothes. "Life's a bitch, then you die. Get over it." Somehow, this had become her new mantra. "Look what I found." Carrying an antiquated metal file box the size of a lawyer's briefcase, her friend Kate stepped out of the half-empty closet and stopped short at the sight of Stephanie mumbling to herself over a box.
"Maybe we should take a break. We've got a lot done."
"I can't keep putting this off." Swiping at her moist cheek, Stephanie silently cursed her eyes for not cooperating.
Surely she should have run out of tears by now. Ever since that night in the ER when the doctor so solemnly informed her that her mother hadn't survived, tears came and went with a free will all their own. Damn inconvenient, too. Nothing like standing at the grocery store, transferring a box of your mother's favorite cereal from the cart to the checkout counter, only to be struck by the reality of still having a nearly full box at home. Then the waterworks would start, and the people around her would awkwardly pretend not to notice a young woman crying over a box of Corn Flakes. "It's been six months, and this isn't any easier now than it was the first time I tried to clean out Mom's closet."
"Steph, cut yourself some slack. She's your mom."
"It's just that nothing feels right anymore." Stephanie wiped at her eyes and offered a halfhearted shrug before noticing the metal box in her friend's hand. "What's that?"
"How should I know?" Kate handed the file box over. "It was buried behind the old suitcases in the corner."
Accepting the box, Stephanie flopped cross-legged on her mom's bed and played with the latch. "I think it's stuck."
Kate reached for the box. "Let me try."
"No, I think...I...got it!" She smiled triumphantly, her fingers quickly flipping through file folders, manila envelopes, and assorted papers. Pulling out a file marked tax return, she glanced at the upper right-hand corner. Setting it back in place, she scanned another stray page for a date, and then another. "Most of these papers are from fifteen or sixteen years ago."
"I wonder why she kept them in the closet."
"Me, too. I've already been through the file cabinet by her desk. Nothing in there was older than seven years." She scanned another sheet. "Except for the tax return, most of these are in Spanish."
Inching across the bed on her knees, Kate peered over Stephanie's shoulder. "Can you read them?"
"Maybe." She continued to flip through pages. "Here's something in English."
Stack of papers in hand, Stephanie skimmed over the words.
"Well?" Kate asked impatiently.
"Looks like this has something to do with the divorce and the newspaper. It's from Mom's lawyer. At least I think it's her lawyer."
Kate rested her chin on Stephanie's shoulder. "I forgot your dad owned a newspaper."
"Mm." Passing each sheet of paper from one hand to the next as she read, Stephanie's heart kicked a beat faster with every mention of her father, the newspaper, and the world her mother had left behind.
"Too bad you can't get a job with him." Kate flopped back on the bed with a handful of discarded pages. "You wanting to be the next Katharine Graham. It would have made great sense."
Scanning the last sheet, Stephanie's mind absorbed the words at the bottom of the page, For any further communication, contact Fernando Restrepo, Esquire.
Like a sprinter at the olympics, her heartbeat took off at top speed. Air filled her lungs and then stopped. For any further communication. The breath she'd been holding blew out in a sudden rush as she sprang from the bed waving the sheet of paper at her friend. Sporting a huge grin, Stephanie practically shouted at Kate. "Do you know what this means?"
Eyes rounded, Kate turned her palms out and hitched her shoulders. "Do I know what what means?"
"This." She waved the page again. "I know how to make things right!"
Still looking like a confused owl, Kate studied her friend a quick moment before smiling back. "What do you mean right?"
"I mean, I'm going to find my father!"
Stephanie Cortez scribbled Women's Shelter across another sealed box of clothes. "Life's a bitch, then you die. Get over it." Somehow, this had become her new mantra. "Look what I found." Carrying an antiquated metal file box the size of a lawyer's briefcase, her friend Kate stepped out of the half-empty closet and stopped short at the sight of Stephanie mumbling to herself over a box.
"Maybe we should take a break. We've got a lot done."
"I can't keep putting this off." Swiping at her moist cheek, Stephanie silently cursed her eyes for not cooperating.
Surely she should have run out of tears by now. Ever since that night in the ER when the doctor so solemnly informed her that her mother hadn't survived, tears came and went with a free will all their own. Damn inconvenient, too. Nothing like standing at the grocery store, transferring a box of your mother's favorite cereal from the cart to the checkout counter, only to be struck by the reality of still having a nearly full box at home. Then the waterworks would start, and the people around her would awkwardly pretend not to notice a young woman crying over a box of Corn Flakes. "It's been six months, and this isn't any easier now than it was the first time I tried to clean out Mom's closet."
"Steph, cut yourself some slack. She's your mom."
"It's just that nothing feels right anymore." Stephanie wiped at her eyes and offered a halfhearted shrug before noticing the metal box in her friend's hand. "What's that?"
"How should I know?" Kate handed the file box over. "It was buried behind the old suitcases in the corner."
Accepting the box, Stephanie flopped cross-legged on her mom's bed and played with the latch. "I think it's stuck."
Kate reached for the box. "Let me try."
"No, I think...I...got it!" She smiled triumphantly, her fingers quickly flipping through file folders, manila envelopes, and assorted papers. Pulling out a file marked tax return, she glanced at the upper right-hand corner. Setting it back in place, she scanned another stray page for a date, and then another. "Most of these papers are from fifteen or sixteen years ago."
"I wonder why she kept them in the closet."
"Me, too. I've already been through the file cabinet by her desk. Nothing in there was older than seven years." She scanned another sheet. "Except for the tax return, most of these are in Spanish."
Inching across the bed on her knees, Kate peered over Stephanie's shoulder. "Can you read them?"
"Maybe." She continued to flip through pages. "Here's something in English."
Stack of papers in hand, Stephanie skimmed over the words.
"Well?" Kate asked impatiently.
"Looks like this has something to do with the divorce and the newspaper. It's from Mom's lawyer. At least I think it's her lawyer."
Kate rested her chin on Stephanie's shoulder. "I forgot your dad owned a newspaper."
"Mm." Passing each sheet of paper from one hand to the next as she read, Stephanie's heart kicked a beat faster with every mention of her father, the newspaper, and the world her mother had left behind.
"Too bad you can't get a job with him." Kate flopped back on the bed with a handful of discarded pages. "You wanting to be the next Katharine Graham. It would have made great sense."
Scanning the last sheet, Stephanie's mind absorbed the words at the bottom of the page, For any further communication, contact Fernando Restrepo, Esquire.
Like a sprinter at the olympics, her heartbeat took off at top speed. Air filled her lungs and then stopped. For any further communication. The breath she'd been holding blew out in a sudden rush as she sprang from the bed waving the sheet of paper at her friend. Sporting a huge grin, Stephanie practically shouted at Kate. "Do you know what this means?"
Eyes rounded, Kate turned her palms out and hitched her shoulders. "Do I know what what means?"
"This." She waved the page again. "I know how to make things right!"
Still looking like a confused owl, Kate studied her friend a quick moment before smiling back. "What do you mean right?"
"I mean, I'm going to find my father!"
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