The Porter-Fields

It had been Gloria Porter-Field who had called her son-in-law Peter Porter-Field to give him the devastating news of his sons’ deaths.

Now, he was here, at their sons’ funeral, granted a furlough from the state prison where he will return to continue serving his time and Sarah Porter-Field couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He had stood beside her as their caskets had been lowered, and it took everything inside of her not to push him down into the grave where her boys were now being laid. This was his fault.

An overdose. Malik and Monte had both taken Sarah’s sleeping pills. She hadn’t even known they were depressed. So caught up in her own turmoil, she hadn’t looked past herself to see how they were dealing.

They had it all once. Peter and Sarah had been the face of Porter-Field Realty, the dream team realtors who could almost guarantee their clients the house of their dreams. They lived in the best neighborhood, had the best house, drove the best cars. The twin brothers were star basketball players and their children went to the best schools. All that had ended when Peter was arrested and charged with money laundering and drug trafficking. His assets had been frozen and their properties seized. Sarah and the kids had showed up on Gloria’s doorstep not long after.

Once it was done, she turned to leave. Peter stepped in front of her, stopping her retreat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Sarah.”

“It’s a little too late for that, Peter. Our boys are gone. They aren’t coming back.”

“I know I had a part to play—” Peter began.

“A part to play?” Sarah sneered. “Do you want to know something, Peter? The day our sons died, they were found at a park known for being a place where drug dealers hang out. Where do you think they got that idea from? You. You are the reason why my sons are in a casket instead of being here with me. How dare you?”

“How dare I? I didn’t hear you complaining when I was buying you all those nice cars and putting you in your dream home, did I?”

“I didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Well, you sure didn’t ask any questions, either. Come on, Sarah. You knew there was no way selling homes was paying for all that, but you didn’t care, did you? As long as you were being taken care of.”

Sarah took a step forward so she stood toe to toe with him. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I can’t just yet.”

Sarah pulled back. “Excuse me?”

Peter took a deep breath to calm himself. When he spoke again, the anger in his voice was gone. “Before the FBI raided the house, there was a book, a little black book I hid in one of your bags. Have you seen it? It’s all I have left and will make my time in prison go smoother.”

“Are you serious? Your son's graves aren’t even ten feet away from you and you’re asking me about a book? Go to hell, Peter, and stop calling to speak with Sasha. You’ll never talk to her again”

Sarah balanced a half smoked cigarette in her fingers as she took another sip of bourbon. She had been sleeping on the couch, Sasha sleeping with her grandmother. She couldn’t bear the sight of the twins' empty beds in the basement.

The TV continued to drone in the background, but she wasn’t watching it. Her mind went back to the funeral, back to the moment when the lids to her boys’ caskets were shut, back to the moment when she watched as their bodies were lowered into the ground.

She wiped away a stray tear and took another swig straight from the bottle.

Peter had been there, having gotten leave from the prison to attend. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for him. He was the reason they lost everything. He was the reason her sons were gone.

She thought about what he had said. A little black book. She knew what book he was talking about. She would often see him writing in it at the end of the night in his study before depositing it in his safe.

She didn’t know where it was now and didn’t much care. She had only brought what she could carry with her after the seizure of their house.

She was about to take another deep drink from the bottle when the clatter of mail hitting the ground caught her attention. Her mother would be upset if the first thing she walked into was scattered mail on the floor, and she didn’t want her to get worked up. She seemed more tired now than she ever had.

Stumbling toward the front door, Sarah placed the bottle on the kitchen table. She reached down to gather the contents, flipping through the envelopes to see if anything had come for her.

Her fingers paused on an envelope that had NOTICE in bright red letters stamped across its front. She placed the rest down and tore open the envelope. Unfolding the paper, she read over it quickly, stopping at one word in particular. Foreclosure. Her mother was losing the house, or would be if she did not come up with the money owed for the last few months’ mortgage payments.

Why didn’t she tell her about this?

Dropping the paper, she scattered the rest of the mail, looking for anything else Gloria had been hiding from her.

Most of it was junk mail, bills and such, but one in particular made her freeze. This was not a notice or a bill. She reached for it, reading the words on the front of the envelope over and over. Turning it over, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

It was nearly dark when Gloria came through the door, Sasha in tow.

Sasha ran up to her mother, but she had no sweet words to give her at the moment.

“Go on in the room, baby. I’ll be in there in a little bit.”

Sasha looked dejected, but did as she was asked.

Gloria moved about the room, pulling out a pot to start on dinner. When she turned around to reach for a dishtowel, Sarah pushed the letter from the cancer center toward her.

Gloria stopped in her movement. She glanced at the letter, then back at her daughter. Gloria sighed heavily and placed the pot on the stove before taking a seat at the table as well.

“I was afraid to tell you.”

“Why, mama? Why would you keep this from me? And the house? You’re about to lose the house?”

Gloria twisted the dish towel in her hand. “I had been getting treatment, but about a year ago, I stopped responding to it. Cancer is expensive, Sarah. There wasn’t much left for the mortgage.”

“But mama—”

“Hush. What you need to be focusing on is taking care of Sasha. I’ll be okay. She needs you now.”

No longer able to hold back her tears, Sarah reached for her mother’s hand. Gloria took it and held it tight.

It had been a month since the funeral, two weeks since she found out her mother had breast cancer. They had spent the rest of that night talking, their laughter sometimes turning into tears. It was a hard reality to swallow, but they had begun making a plan to save Gloria’s house.

Sarah had just finished making breakfast after taking Sasha to school and was now setting up the table.

“Mama, food’s ready!”

She finished pouring her a glass of juice and placed the glass on the table, glancing at the bedroom door.

“Mama,” she called again. She moved toward her room and knocked on the door. When no answer came, Sarah pushed open the door.

Gloria was still in bed. Sarah moved to wake her mother. It wasn’t like her to sleep so late.

“Mama.” She reached for her arm and paused. Slowly, she put a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob.

It was funny how life worked. Not six weeks before, she had been standing at the graves of her children. Now, she stood in the basement of her mother’s home, a home she wasn’t sure was a home anymore.

Without thinking, she reached for a snow globe on the table across from her—the one Peter’s mother had bought for the boys when they were just Sasha’s age—and threw it at a shelf. The shelf fell apart with a loud clatter, and a large bag came down with it, a small black journal falling from its inside and sliding nearly to her feet.

Sarah picked it up, examining it. She flipped it open and immediately recognized the numbers and words inside as the addresses to the properties that had been seized. The numbers below them resembled phone numbers, but to who?

Peter had asked about a little black book. At the time, she didn’t understand what he had been talking about. She looked back down at the addresses in the book before running back upstairs to grab her keys.

She had been to three other properties before this one, all of them boarded up, some still taped off, but this one was neither boarded nor taped. She looked over her shoulder as she approached the front door. The house was still condemned.

The lock box was still attached to the door. Peter always used Sasha’s birthday as a passcode. The lock box popped open in her hand, and she pushed the door open. Closing the door behind her, she glanced around the room, surprised to find it fully furnished, albeit covered in dust.

She looked back down at the book in her hand. There was a phone number under the property’s address, just like the other ones. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed the number. It didn’t ring, but neither did it go to voicemail.

She continued through the house, trying to understand what the phone number in the book meant.

Eventually, she came upon the master bedroom, but unlike the rest of the house, there was no furniture, only a small black safe that sat in the middle of the floor.

Sarah walked toward it slowly, the black book hanging loosely from her fingers. Peter’s safe. The same type he would place his notebook in, the very one she held in her hand. It needed a combination. Sarah remembered Peter’s joking about his combination being as long as a phone number.

“Long like a phone number,” she whispered.

She dropped to the floor, glancing from the notebook to the lock in front of her. The latch popped open and she opened the door slowly.

Money. The safe held money, stacks of it. She pulled it out, laying it in front of her. This. This was what Peter had been trying to tell her.

She picked up the money and began to unbind it. 20,000 dollars. Sarah lifted a shaking hand to her mouth.

She got to her feet quickly, nearly tripping in her haste. She would pack a bag, she thought. One for her and Sasha. She would pick her up from school, take her somewhere special, spend the day with her.

They had a chance at a new life, a fresh start and she had every intention of giving Sasha what she deserved. She would be better. She would promise.