There was something about the sunsets in late August that Ari adored over others. They're early arrival to the evening, the elongated, pungent pastels, the play against the last of the Summer clouds. Warm winds changed to crisp breezes that carried the whispers of Fall, and comforts of cozying clothes. Days were still long, but no longer overbearing. Light arrived early enough in the morning to greet her but not so far ahead of her alarm's bleats to bother. The hours came with ease. It felt ok missing events, Ari felt in sync with the seasons, she felt good.
On this Thursday evening she decided a walk was well deserved, rather than risk another uncomfortable cab ride. There'd been too many over the past months, closing out exceptionally long days at the office. The prospect of time alone to stroll, without the weight of deadlines, unhindered by the stressful pressures of rest, all while avoiding flashing leers in a rearview mirror from a man she'd rather not know where she lived, seemed the pinnacle of luxury.
The air felt like heaven.
Tonight they'd celebrated. The entire firm had gathered, and toasted their enormous win, rinsing away a fifteen month gauntlet with champagne and artisanal cocktails. They were owed at least that. The class action suit had consumed every minute from alarm to pillow. There were never enough hours. Running from across town for chasing witnesses, potential pieces of evidence, long interviews, meticulous research, red herrings, cross references, unfathomable amounts of filing, and uncountable billable hours. The extreme emotional toll of the case, and overwhelming workload burnt out peers, and seniors alike. Internal office politics at times were stifling dance through a minefield. Not all had survived. Some resigned, others fired. Ari had preserved, juggling eighty hour plus work weeks while watching the slow disintegration of her personal life. A nine to five sounded like a vacation. Yet despite the climb, the doubt, the defence's barrage of hurdles, disorganized physical data dumps, coded threats to witnesses, everything had worked out. They'd won big. Numbers that would change everyone's life. Each plaintiff, the firm's stature, Quayable's future earnings and stature in the market, not to mention precedent across the country for safety standards.
Not only had they prevailed, Ari had earned a spot on the bench. She'd shined. Rolled through the turmoil, the storms, both the surprise and expected. She'd found calm in the face of frustrated attorneys, gruelling depositions, crumbling witnesses, their heart-wrenching realities, pains, and reluctant hope that the team at Wilson and Wilson's could come to their aid. The partner's appreciative handshakes firm, their rare, coveted compliments robust, and honest. While there were still endless mountains ahead, archiving, billing, and the works, there was ease on the horizon. A comfortable end, a sizable bonus, even whispers of a pipeline program, a chance to make good on passing the LSAT years before without the financial burdens. This afternoon felt as if she'd been given a second chance at life, brought back from the dead. Available to friends again. Dinners, movies, music, maybe even a date.
Composure, fortitude, caffeine, all added to the bliss. Ari could still taste the wine, and hanging notes of tiramisu lounge across her tongue. While refusing to work weekends, or past midnight in the office during the case had felt impossible, declining to keep the party going had been easy. Ari's tub called to her. The novel that she left unfinished for the last few months, the promise of candlelight, warm scented water, fiction, rest, and ritual irresistible. Things were well. Weight lifted, stress alleviated, there was room to breath in the coursing ballet above. Time to watch the Sun's plunge into night as she stepped, rather than craning her head to her phone, juggling messaging apps, emails, and calendars. Blended in the autumnal scents was relief, hope, and, almost unfamiliar, pride.
The terrors of the trail, and potential for failure had paused, with them, fears of her position within the firm receded. Congratulatory pats on the back, enthusiastic handshakes cemented her relief. Her career as a paralegal was flourishing. Tranquility overthrew stress, and Ari could watch the birds sing their lullabies delirious and happy. Her phone vibrated with texts, and voicemails filled with praise and gratitude, to which she gave no mind. Instead she bumped the volume of her music. She smiled at the drivers, waved at the children passing as her heels clipped against concrete.
There was so much to look forward to returning home. No deadlines, no ambiguity. A schedule without surprise, a full refrigerator, and a fat pay check on its way. More than anything Ari had time. Time to dawdle, to catch up with her neglected friendships, to stretch, to cook, to binge television. There was even the promise of an eligible fellow from a matchmaking friend desperate to take her off the market, to find her joy. Everything seemed plausible now that that domineering case had come to close.
Ready to cast aside her heels, light her candles, and draw a bath, Ari rounded the corner to her house.
There, on her doorstep, it sat.
Two feet high, littered in stickers and paperwork, the cardboard box loomed like a monolith. Ari's footsteps stammered as she rushed for her keys. Fumbling fingers struggled to knock the small steel stick home in the lock, and she marked the keyhole like a drunk. The metal refused to enter.
Unable to avoid the burden, Ari glanced, and saw the name of the sender. A name she'd spent years trying to not only ignore, but erase from her psyche all together. A name she'd spent an uncountable amount of dollars, hours, and tears, with various therapists trying to recover from. Not to mention the days chasing the appropriate insurances, filing out forms, so she didn't bankrupt herself in the process.
She'd been ignoring the notifications, calls, and notes on her door, from the delivery service for the last weeks. Now, whether she liked her not, it was here.
The lock clicked and Ari shuffled herself through the entrance, slamming the door behind her, leaving the parcel and past behind. Her breath caught in her throat. The relaxation and joy of the hours before seemed as distant as the life she'd run from so long ago.
She raced to the refrigerator and uncorked a bottle of wine that tasted more medicinal than the celebratory chardonnay she'd intended. The glass had hardly made it to Ari's lips before she fell to her elbows. With her blazer stretched and head laid upon the cool counter, Ari stared at the glass's stem. The last of the sunset's rays split through the blank potion and spilled the spectrum across the tiles, as she wondered why.
Why now?
Why, when things were just getting comfortable, did she get another knock from beyond the grave.
Thanks for reading the first of the new series!
-Mr. Write