He’s gone. My Uncle Richie said he died peacefully in his sleep, but is death ever truly peaceful? Oh, I’m sure if I make it to ninety or a hundred, death would be a peaceful blessing, but Dad was only fifty-five. I haven’t really ever thought much about what happens to you, the whole life after death thing. If it is true, I hope Mom is there to meet him. These are the thoughts I have while driving through town and toward my dad’s house.

It’s raining now, and I feel like the universe is crying with me. I’m gripping the steering wheel, focusing on the road, and listening to the latest pop rock station. The conversation with my uncle keeps playing in my head. One minute, Uncle Richie is telling me that my dad, the only parent I have left, has died, and the next he’s informing me that he’ll take care of everything. I doubt I will ever forget that conversation.

“I am so sorry, Alice, but your daddy has passed away.”

I’m still asleep when I answer his phone call, so what he’s saying doesn't quite register with me. “Who is this?”

I hear a throat clearing in my ear, “Alice, this is your Uncle Richie. I’m calling to tell you, your daddy has died.”

“What?!” I jerk up in my bed, finally catching on to what my uncle is telling me. “When? How?”

“We were supposed to meet for dinner at the Country Club and he never showed. I got worried when I couldn’t get him on the phone, so I came over to check on him. I found him in his bed. It looks like he passed the night before, in his sleep.”

I jump up and start searching for clothes to throw on. “I’m on my way over now. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“There’s no need for that, Alice. I already called the police and coroner. I’ll take care of everything. No need to worry your pretty little head about any of this. I can handle the funeral arrangements and make sure his wishes are met. I’ve got the business taken care of, too. You just rest and be over here tomorrow to greet the mourners that will stop by, like the sweet little daughter you are.”

I look at my phone as the screen goes black. Did he seriously just tell me not to worry my pretty little head? That son of a bitch. I ignore everything he told me and finish throwing on my jeans, a t-shirt that smells cleanish, and my chucks. I grab my keys and race out the door.

My uncle still sees me as the little rugrat running the halls, but I’m all grown up now. He’s mistaken if he thinks I’ll step back and let him take over everything. I can, no, I will, run Dad’s company myself. I want nothing more than to make him proud of me.

I take in my childhood home as I pull up the long driveway. The two story house is white with a full wrap around porch. A set of red doors and six pillars, evenly spaced around the front porch, that finish off the old Antebellum home. My dad bought this house for my mom as a wedding gift and they lived here as a family for seven years before I came along and she passed away. Being here, and knowing what lies ahead, fills me with so much sorrow that I’m having a hard time catching my breath. Before I get out of the car and face my uncle, I make a phone call to the one person in this world that understands me. She picks up after the second ring.

“I’m at my dad’s house. I need you.”

I wake up the next morning in my old bedroom under a mountain of blankets. I attempt to stretch my legs and am halted when I feel an arm around my waist. I take a deep breath and peek under the covers to look at the hand that is resting on my stomach. I let out a soft laugh when I realize who that hand belongs to.

“Zoe.” I grab her hand and throw it off of me. I hear a snort and feel her roll over. “Zoe,” I say a little louder this time.

“Shut up. I drove all night to get here. Let me get some sleep, Al.”

Zoe Duran, my best friend since we were assigned as roommates our freshman year at high school back in Knoxville. She is the complete opposite of me. She is shorter than me at 5’5”, slightly more round (don’t tell her I said that), she has mocha colored skin, and her black hair is worn in a myriad of dreadlocks. Where I am a Republican, Zoe is a Democrat. I love Elvis, Zoe thinks ‘Jailhouse Rock’ is the worst song ever written. I live off of coffee and ice cream, she thinks coffee tastes like dirt and ice cream is just stupid. Complete opposites, but somehow we just work. I haven’t seen her since we graduated. I came back to Memphis to study law, and Zoe stayed in Knoxville to work at the Botanical Gardens as a botanist. We keep up on social media and we talk at least once a week, but with my school schedule and her starting her new job, time just has not been on our side. However, when I received the call from Uncle Richie, she was the only person I even considered calling. She is the only one I knew would drop everything to be here for me and not expect anything in return. Zoe always knew what my dad did for a living, but she was the one person who didn’t care or try and exploit him or me. She’s my best friend, my ride-or-die, my soul sister in every way.

She is also the only person allowed to call me Al.

I roll over and face my very best friend, getting right up in her face and blow. “Damn it Al! Don’t be blowing your nasty morning breathe in my face. Get up, get dressed, and go brush your teeth.”

In spite of the circumstances, it’s a relief seeing her face and I can’t help but start to laugh. I have missed this crazy girl like mad. I get out of bed and head toward my bathroom. I have to pee, brush my teeth, and try to find some clothes in my closet that still fit. Once I find a pair of sweats and a shirt that doesn’t cut off my circulation, I head downstairs to start the coffee maker. While I’m waiting on the coffee to start, I hear something coming from my dad’s office. I walk out of the kitchen and into his office where I find my Uncle Richie going through Dad’s desk.

I clear my throat, loudly, before I announce myself. “Hey Uncle. What are you looking for?”

He jumps up so fast he hits his head on the corner of the desk. He rubs his head while giving me a nasty glare. “Alice, what are you doing here? I told you I had everything taken care of.”

I walk further into the room. “I know what you said, but he’s my dad, and I have every right to be here. This is still my home, after all. So, what exactly are you looking for?”

“Daniel and I were discussing the purchase of a new storefront to sell edibles, but I lost the realtor’s contact information. I assumed I could find it in here. I know we’re all grieving, but we still have to man the ships.”

It’s barely seven in the morning, I haven’t even had my coffee yet, and I can see right through this man’s crap. “Do you really need it now? If you tell me what you need, I can find it later and have it sent over to you.” By this time, my uncle has moved from behind the desk, so I walk behind it and grab the chair I watched Dad sit in for years, and plop down in it. I push back a little and place both of my feet on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. I silently chuckle to myself at the anger I feel radiating off of him right now.

“It’s fine. I can come back later this afternoon and look for it.” He turns to go, but I stop him before he can walk out the door.

“Actually, this afternoon isn’t good for me. I need to meet with the funeral director at one o’clock. I’ll look for the realtor’s information and get it to you. Was there anything else you needed me to find?”

I watch Uncle Richie begin to turn an interesting shade of red before he shakes his head. “No. Now that I think about it, I believe I have a copy of what I need back at the office. I can just go there and get it.”

Before he can cross the threshold, I stop him one more time. “Do you want me to call you after I have all the funeral arrangements made?”

I hear him take a deep breath before answering me. “That would be appreciated. Goodbye, Alice.”

As soon as I hear the front door close behind him, I lean back and close my eyes. Dad always warned me to watch out for his brother. Of course they got along and worked together, but Dad never did trust him. Something tells me he wasn’t in here searching for some realtor’s information. Question is, what exactly was he looking for?

Zoe is walking down the stairs as I walk out of Dad’s office. Somehow I manage to smile at her. She says, “Are you ready to go to the funeral home?”

I straighten my shoulders and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s wrong?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I found Uncle Richie going through Dad’s desk and he was acting shifty. He had an excuse about realtor papers, but I don’t buy it.”

Zoe grabs my arm as I’m walking out the door. “I don’t trust that man, Al. I would keep an eye on him. He has always rubbed me the wrong way.” I nod my head because at that moment, I couldn’t agree with her more.

We reach Boller Funeral Home and Zoe has to practically drag me out of my Accord. We’re met at the door by Mr. Boller, himself. He’s an older gentlemen with receding, grey hair, an overlapping gut, and a typical black suit. He steers us into his office and proceeds to go over the funeral arrangements set up by my dad a few years earlier. Daniel Du-Kane was very strict about what he wanted. No open caskets, no church service, and no tears. We’re having a simple memorial service here at the funeral home. He already picked out his casket and he’ll be buried next to my mom.

After we finish with Mr. Boller, Zoe and I head back to my apartment. I need clothes for the funeral and enough for the next week, at least. All of my dad’s affairs should be in order, but I won’t know anything until the reading of the will. Uncle and I have an appointment with Dad’s attorney the morning after the memorial service.

As soon as we get to my apartment, I immediately go straight to my closet to grab some clothes that aren’t ten years old and two sizes too small. I slip on a pair of trusted True Religion jeans and I can finally breathe. Zoe starts pulling out my luggage. The Louis Vuitton hardback set was a graduation gift from Dad and I absolutely love them. We start throwing in jeans, t-shirts, yoga pants, more t-shirts, and finally a black Vera dress for the service, and a simple red sheath dress for the meeting with the attorney. Shoes are thrown in the luggage and my unmentionables get packed up last. I look around my bedroom to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything and give myself a facepalm. I almost forgot to grab Twinkie, my stuffed sloth. I can't sleep without my Twinkie.

“Al, are you about ready to go? I’m getting hungry and you, of course, have nothing to eat.”

I turn the lights out in my room and head back to the kitchen where I find Zoe with the entire top half of her body in my fridge. I yell, “Boo!”, and fall over in laughter when she jumps and bangs her head. “I’m so sorry,” I try to get out. “I saw you and just couldn’t help it.” I’m laughing so much, tears are streaming down my face.

Zoe just glares at me, grabs one of my suitcases and starts walking to the door. I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble ‘stupid asshole’ under her breath.