Captain Fin

by Amanda M. Thrasher

  Disturbed to see her mom so distraught, not knowing for sure if it was the drugs, a memory, or the illness that was plaguing her mind at the time, Hannah could play along no more. Against her will, she burst into tears.

  “I don’t know what box, Mom. When we moved? The boxes from my room, your personal boxes, photo boxes? What box?”

  “Your box.”

  “My box?” Hannah asked. “The box belongs to me?”

  Gloria ever so slowly nodded her head. The overly white hospital pillow crunched beneath her, and another tear trickled down her left cheek. Recognizing that finding the box was truly important to her mom, Hannah assured her she would find it if it existed.

  “Tell me where I can find the box, Mom.”

  Gloria mouthed the word c l o s e t.

  “Which closet?”

  Gloria repeated the word, c l o s e t. Hannah continued to ask questions, hoping her mom would be patient with her a tad longer.

  “There’s a box, in a closet, and it belongs to me. Correct?”

  Gloria nodded again.

  “What’s in the box?” Hannah asked.

  “H a a a n k.” Gloria managed.

  “Oh my God! What?”

  Hank is in the box? His ashes? Well no offense, but no thank you! He could stay in the closet, in the box, Hannah thought. She was in no hurry to find him. Urn. No thank you!

  Frustrated, Gloria grabbed Hannah’s sleeve and shook her arm as if she understood what Hannah was thinking. Hannah, against her will, forged ahead.

  “Okay. What closet?”

  Raising her hand, Gloria pointed to herself. “My.”

  “Your closet? Okay.” Hannah smiled. “Hank, my dad, is in a box, in your closet.”

  Kissing her mom’s hand that she now held in hers, she smiled, and sighed with relief.

  “Why don’t we leave him there? He’s safe and all, and now that I know where he is, which is what you wanted, right, we’re all good!”

  Gloria actually managed a slight smile and found a whisper of voice from within her. “It’s for you.”

  But Hannah didn’t want him, not like that, and her face showed it. Frowning, she didn’t know what to say except to agree and pretend that she’d take the urn. Gloria sensed what Hannah must be thinking, that the box was something that it wasn’t, and tried to explain why she needed her to retrieve it. Taking a deep breath, almost gasping for air, Gloria tried to explain why Hannah needed the box.

  “It’s for you; open it. It’s on the top shelf, back of my closet, under a pile of sweaters.”

  Wanting to appease her mom, Hannah agreed to look for the box.

  “I’ll find the box. Do you want me to bring it to you?” Hannah asked.

  Gloria shook her head and turned away. Tearfully she started whispering words over and over that Hannah at first had trouble making out. Once she understood them, Hannah didn’t understand why her mom would say them in the first place. Walking over to the other side of the bed, Hannah listened carefully to her mom to be sure she had understood the words Gloria was repeating over and over. She had, but they didn’t make sense.

  “Sorry, Hannah. I’m sorry, so sorry!”

  “Do you need a nurse, Mom?”

  Gloria didn’t answer. She once again turned away from her daughter as if in shame. Confused, Hannah continued to try to calm down her mom.

  “Forgive me, Hannah,” Gloria mumbled. “I’m sorry, Hank. So sorry, Hank. Hannah, I’m sorry.”

  Puzzled and concerned that the drugs were causing her mom to lose her mind, Hannah panicked, and without her mom’s knowledge, pressed the nurse’s button.

  “How we doing in here?” the perky nurse asked as she bounced into the room.

  “Not so good,” Hannah responded. “I think my mom’s delirious. Something’s wrong, very wrong; she’s talking crazy!”

  Chapter 23

  The Tattered Box

  Memories

  Dreams

  Confusion

  Turn into utter chaos

  And dissolutions.

  ~ Hannah Gunner ~

  Hannah wandered aimlessly toward the elevator, tapping away on her phone. The first text she sent was to Lindsey. Yes, she was hanging in there, didn’t need anything, but thanks for checking. She hesitated before responding to the second text, which was from Cash. Desperately wanting to see him, she was torn between not wanting him to see her looking the way she did, like crap, with a tear-stained face and worn out, and responding to his text and asking him to pick her up so she could go home and shower in her own shower instead of the makeshift hospital shower in her mom’s room. Her heartache over her mom’s downward spiral, the need to see him, and the task now at hand, finding the mysterious box, if it even existed, had worn her out.

  Hannah: Hey there, you busy?

  Cash: Nah. Waiting for you to answer my text.

  Hannah: Sorry about that, been crazy here.

  Cash: You okay?

  Hannah: Yes, and no. Pick me up and drive me home?

  Cash: On my way!

  A slight smile crossed her face when she read his response; realizing how much she missed everything about him, despite the circumstances, made her excited to see him again. His cocky smile, unkempt dirty blond hair hanging in front of his Oakley’s, was just what she needed to take the chaos temporarily away that she was now experiencing.

  Cash’s music could be heard before his Jeep was even in sight, but as he pulled up in front of the hospital entrance, he turned it down. Hannah hesitated before climbing in. With the door ajar, staring at him, she told him how much she loved him and how happy she was to see him at that exact moment.

  “Damn! You just made my day!” He winked at her, told her he loved her too, and added, “Are you getting in or what?”

  Capturing everything about his expression at that moment, Hannah took a mental photograph of his face. She’d never felt that way before, in love, and except for her mom, couldn’t think of a single person in the world she needed right then more than him. Pulling herself up into the Jeep, she leaned over, kissed him on the lips, and buckled up.

  “Man, I’ve missed you!”

  “Me too, you,” she replied. “It’s been crazy.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  His gleaming dark browns told her he was genuinely pleased to see her as much as she was happy to see him. He held her hand the entire way, even while switching gears, never once letting her hand slip out of his.

  “I was getting worried about you; I’m so glad you wanted to slip home for a bit.” Hesitating, he asked, “How’s she doing?”

  “Right now, it’s hard to say, but none of it is good.” Hannah had trouble saying the words. “I heard the words stage four for the first time today, and even I know that isn’t good.” Staring out the window, she added, “They don’t know how long she had this before her initial diagnosis, but they think it must have been a long time, and all of these complications stem from it.”

  “Wow. Did your mom know, I mean, that she had it?”

  Hannah shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno.”

  Shuddering, Hannah blocked the conversation with the doctor out of her mind. Cash, not knowing how to respond, didn’t say a word. Squeezing his grip around Hannah’s hand was all he needed to do—silent reassurance. After a few minutes, Hannah tried to approach the conversation about the box with Cash.

  “I need to pick up some overnight things from the house that I forgot to ask Kathy to grab, and there’s something I need to do or find. I don’t really know.” Glancing at him, she could tell by the look on his face that Cash was waiting for her to explain.

  “Well, that sounded vague in a weird sort of way.” Cash gently squeezed her hand. “What are you looking for?”

  Hannah shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t know.” Running her hands through her long blond hair and wrapping it up into a messy makeshift bun on top of her head, she looked confused as she fumbled her way thro
ugh what her mom had tried to ask her to do. Her big blue eyes, dull, looked sad and distant, and it pained Cash to see her that way.

  “I don’t even know if this box exists,” Hannah whispered. “Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m looking for yet. It’s just something my mom was going on and on about; something she said I had to find, and it’s supposedly a box that belongs to me located in her closet.”

  “Well, I’ll just wait for you in the Jeep if you like, if it’s personal.”

  Hannah kissed the top of his hand. “No. You can come in with me.” Taking a deep breath and exhaling, “I need you to come with me; I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

  “Only if you want me to.”

  Drained, Hannah half-heartedly smiled. “Honestly, I do. I think I’m supposed to take the box to her, but I’m not sure because she’s kinda confused. She was rambling and kept saying it was for me. I’m telling you, the whole thing was so weird!”

  “Sounds like it!”

  “I’ve never heard her talk about this box or a box like this before, like ever. And I’m not even sure if it’s real. It’s possible she’s delirious because of all of the meds.” Hannah paused. “Seriously, though, the nurse did say she could be delirious at times.”

  Cash pulled up to the complex, entered the code, and parked in front of Hannah’s apartment.

  “Well, let’s go find this box, then!” He grinned. “Or you can, and I’ll chill in the kitchen.”

  “Let’s do it!”

  The apartment felt weird. The atmosphere was oddly still and semi-stale. No air circulating or activity had been going on in there that day or evening, and it was apparent. Gloria, a stickler for conserving electricity and energy in general, turned everything down or off unless they were home. Nothing, not even a lamp, had been turned on while they’d been gone. She must have managed to either instruct Kathy or turned everything off before she’d collapsed. Good grief, thought Hannah. Flipping on the kitchen light, opening the fridge, and grabbing a couple sodas, Hannah handed one to Cash before proceeding down the hallway in such a manner that he knew not to follow.

  “Holler if you need me,” he yelled, and sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Thanks,” she replied, marching straight into Gloria’s room and flipping on the light. The bed was unmade, but she couldn’t help noticing that everything else was still neatly in its place. Nothing was out of order. Gloria’s heavy sweater lay on the foot of the bed, and Hannah picked it up to inhale the scent of her mom’s perfume. The closet door, which was mirrored, was half opened and Hannah caught a glimpse of herself. She stared at her mom’s sweater held up to her face. Hannah inhaled her mom’s scent again for good measure before placing it exactly where she’d found it. She was her mother’s daughter, everyone said so, but in the reflection in the mirror, she didn’t feel as if she looked as beautiful as her mom had always seemed to her. Her eyes scanned the room, and in the eeriest way it felt as if she was looking at it for the first time. A photo of the two of them, Hannah was eleven, sat on Gloria’s dresser, along with a picture of the three of them, little Hannah, three or four maybe, Hank, and Gloria, and the one of Hannah by herself in her pirate costume. Hannah picked up the photo of her and her mom, admiring the two beautiful people in the frame—was that really them? No one would have recognized either of them! Hannah all grown up, and that lady, she looked so different today. Hannah realized at that moment that her mom hadn’t looked like herself for quite some time; in the photo she had a full face, a big smile from ear to ear, sparkling eyes, and glowing skin. That lady, right there in her hands, looked nothing like the woman lying ill in the hospital bed. The one gasping for air, thin, pale, and sickly. Gloria had been settling in these days by 7:00 unless she had a night shift. She was constantly exhausted, and always picking at her food. Now admitted to the hospital, Hannah wondered how long her mom had really been ill, and why on earth hadn’t she noticed before now? The signs had surely all been there! Putting the picture back where she found it, straightening it to be sure it was exactly how her mom had left it, she turned to face the closet on the other side of the room.

  Reaching out for the handle, Hannah hesitated. Gloria’s words resonated, reverberating as if bouncing around her brain and ringing in her ears. Sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry. Sorry. Hannah froze. Shaking her head as if that would make the sound of her mom’s voice go away, she found the courage to reach out and put her hand back on the closet handle door and began to slide it open. Slide it right or slide it left? It made no difference; she’d have to search both sides. She opted to push the door left and search to the right first. The closet was narrow but long. Unlike Hannah’s, it was organized, though packed. Sweaters, just like her mom had stated, were neatly folded and piled underneath sweatshirts and pullovers on the top shelf. Reaching all the way to the ceiling, some as old as Hannah, the pile of clothes stretched and Hannah couldn’t help but wonder if the woman ever threw anything away. She didn’t find a box of any sort to the right hand of the closet, corner, or center. Everything appeared to have a place and seemed to be where it was supposed to be. Stepping out of the closet, Hannah slid the door to the right and began her search of the left-hand side of the closet. Nervously she poked around under each pile until her hand finally brushed up against the side of something hard pressed against the closet wall.

  “Everything okay?” Cash yelled from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, good. Turn the TV on, if you like.”

  Within a few seconds Hannah could hear what sounded like a commentator discussing a basketball game. Her hands fumbled underneath the mysterious box, cardboard, and nervously, she slid it out from underneath the sweaters. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could easily count each beat in her chest. It was heavy, but not so heavy she needed help. Upon closer examination, she could tell it was beige, tattered, and worn. It looked like an old shoe or small boot box, and the lid, now loose, had been secured by a thick rubber band. It had apparently been something that her mom had kept up with for many years, and must have been moved from home to home without Hannah’s knowledge. Hannah carefully lifted down the box and placed it on the floor so she wouldn’t spill the contents. Kneeling in front of the box, she stared at it for a few moments before nervously removing the rubber band. Snapping, it popped her on her bare skin as soon she tried to remove it from the lid, stinging her hand.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuu!”

  She caught herself before the F word flew out of her mouth, but the red mark that the rubber band left behind on her hand was a nasty reminder of why she was about to lose her cool! Though her mom asked her to retrieve the box, it felt as if she were invading her mom’s privacy. Weird, since Gloria kept insisting it was her box in the first place. Contemplating what to do and what the contents of the box held, she kept running through the multiple possibilities: mementos maybe, or even her childhood projects from school, photographs, a will? Just open it! she instructed herself. Taking a deep breath, she flipped off the lid, catching sight of the contents for the very first time. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking at. Envelope after envelope filled the box, all the way to the brim. Letter after letter, all handwritten on faded yellow, thinning, worn-out paper, stared her in the face. Eyes huge, Hannah’s hands dug in between the envelops and she pulled them out, glancing at them one after the other, and one thing remained the same: they were all stamped, addressed, and mailed to her! Trembling, she read the names one by one: Hannah Gunner, Hannah Gunner, Hannah Gunner, addressee, Hannah Gunner!

  “Wait… what?”

  Every single one of them was addressed to Hannah Gunner c/o Gloria Gunner. Shock consumed her, chills ran up her spine, and her blood ran cold as her eyes darted to the left-hand side of the envelopes and she caught sight of the return address line. RETURN TO SENDER: HANK GUNNER—FOLSOM STATE PRISON.

  Some of the letters and cards were opened, and some surprisingly were still sealed. The muffled sound of the TV in the background had been drowned out b
y Hannah’s racing heartbeats pounding through her chest. Questions banging around in her head, too many to answer, and who would she ask right then anyway?! Frantically rummaging through the box, her fingers landed on an envelope, which had been opened, and a photograph fell out: a little girl dressed in pink and white pajamas, wearing a handkerchief tied around her head, and holding a wooden sword. She was smiling. A smile so huge it practically crossed her entire face. In the background stood a man. Hannah gasped and held the photograph close to her eyes, peering at it in awe, as if seeing the image of the man for the first time in her life.

  “Captain,” she whispered. “It’s the Captain!”

  Hands trembling, she stared at the faded ink on the letter that she held in her hands. It was still legible. A nervous, panicky feeling overwhelmed her as soon as she realized a ghost from her past had revisited. Sitting in a crumpled pile on her mom’s bedroom floor, she read the letter that she now held in her hand through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

  Dearest First Matey,

  If you could only see me now, you would not be happy with me! It’s safe to say I have quite a black spot on me soul! They say dead men tell no tales; remember when we even used to say that?

  Well, Matey, I feel as if I’m already dead without you, my little pirate, at my side! There has no doubt been a mutiny, but you knew that from my last letter. Our scallywag, turned tyrant, is really cross with me, but that said, rightfully so!

  Don’t worry; I will do my best to make it up to both of you, and will be home soon. Promise to be a good lass, or should I say First Matey! But above all, please, please, please don’t forget how much I love and miss you!

  Yes, Hannah, I remembered. Exist as a pirate to survive, and always remember, sweet little Hannah, you are our greatest treasure of all!

  Captain

  Letter after letter all addressed to Hannah: birthday cards, Christmas cards, and even a few Easter cards. Ripping them open and reading them through tear-filled eyes, she didn’t hear Cash enter the room. Startled, she jumped when he gently laid his hand on her shoulder and crouched down next to her. She lost it completely. Feeling as if he’d just walked into something he shouldn’t have, Cash suddenly wished he hadn’t entered the room at all. Eyes darting between Hannah and the paper-filled box, he knew something was amiss. Crying uncontrollably into his shoulder, with no explanation, she couldn’t stop herself.