Chapter 5: PERSONAL EFFECTS

Ms. LaFleur died a few months before his graduation. Even after several days he couldn't believe she was dead. He felt like she was just out of sight. Surely, he kept thinking, she was in the next room or at the store – not gone forever. But in every empty room he checked and no matter how long he waited, Ms. LaFleur did not come home.

He sat in the executor's office listening deafly to the lawyer's words. He needed to decide the burial. Thankfully his mother had a small life insurance policy that could cover the cost. The executor said he would file the death certificate with the life insurance company later that week. They would still need to notify the social security administration of her death as well as go through all personal assets that Alice LaFleur left behind.

"I want to sue the insurance company," Chez said quietly. The lawyer blinked and asked Chez to repeat himself. Chez did and explained that the reason his mother died was because the insurance company refused to cover his mother's hospital care.

The lawyer sighed and leaned back in his chair. He removed his glasses and polished them with the edge of his sleeve. "I know how you're feeling. Trust me. But suing the insurance company will go nowhere." He placed the glasses back on his nose.

"These companies have billions of dollars. They make their money by charging as high as possible and covering as little as possible. They then use those billions to hire excellent lawyer who drain the pockets of bereaved family members long before they ever make it to a court. Should your case be among the lucky few to see the inside of a courtroom, these lawyers will argue that Alice LaFleur checked out of the hospital against doctor's advice and did so of her own volition. And who is to say that the poor woman wouldn't have died in the hospital anyway. Perhaps it was her time. As tragic as it was, and as grieved as her family felt, death was not always preventable."

Chez shook his head. "I don't care."

The lawyer sighed again trying to find some way to convince him. After the life insurance money came in, he suggested Chez use it to give his mother a nicer burial or better yet, put it towards his own future. "I would advise you not to waste it seeking vengeance for you mother's death. You're all that is left to be hurt."

Chez's hand suddenly smacked the lawyers desk, causing the lawyer to jump. Items that had toppled over were left unrighted. Cautiously, the lawyer waited for Chez's next reaction. Nothing happened. The lawyer cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Somewhat resigned, the lawyer promised to file the paperwork after dealing with his mother's estate. He begged Chez to go home and rest, noting that Chez would be graduating from high school soon and suggested he try to focus on finals.

Kevin knocked on the front door, calling out again. Chez hadn't been to school in over a month. Mail was piled up in the mail slot as if the occupants hadn't been home for a while.

"I know you're there." Kevin yelled. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for any sign of movement. He reached up and slid his hand along the doorframe until finding the hidden key he'd once seen Chez use, a relic of the past.

Kevin unlocked the door and was immediately hit with the smell of garbage and stale food. He cringed and flipped on the lights. The room in chaos and neglect was piled high with garbage and the sink was filled with unwashed dishes. Chez reclined on the sofa, facing the ceiling.

Kevin slowly approached him. He asked if Chez needed anything or if he could help him. Chez remained silent as if unaware that Kevin was there.

"Our project won," Kevin offered as a way to open a dialog. After his mother's death, Chez had abandoned every aspect of it, leaving the competition all up to Kevin, not that the boy could blame him. "It'll look great on any university application." He pulled the robot out of his backpack, looked around for someplace not covered in clutter, finally giving up and placing it on the dining table next to an empty bowl.

When he saw a tear run down Chez's cheek, Kevin froze, unsure what he did and helplessly inexperienced in knowing what he should do in that moment to fix it. 

"It's my fault she's dead," Chez gasped, covering his eyes. "Now I'm all alone."

Kevin didn't understand why Chez would blame himself for something like that. He did his best to provide words of comfort, but Chez paid him no attention, muttering instead about the umbrella.

Uncertain what else to do, Kevin started to clean. The older woman had left a note on the refrigerator explaining that she was visiting her niece for a few weeks to give Chez privacy. She left some food in the freezer for him, but a quick examination showed that none of it had been eaten. Before leaving, he told Chez to eat something.

"I understand it's hard, but you can't let yourself die too. She wouldn't want that." Kevin hadn't known Ms. LaFleur well, but seeing him suffering with grief, he felt Ms. LaFleur would not have wanted that. Chez remained silent, lost in a different world. Kevin left on a sigh, promising to come back again when he could.

He wasn't sure where he was going until he looked up and realized he was standing in front of the largest health insurance company in the country. The seven-story building loomed high in the sky above him. The lawyer was right; the company wouldn't be held accountable in court.

It was late so the offices were closed. But the doors to the lobby still opened leading to the stairwell off to the side. He climbed the stairs to the top where he was greeted by a door with a sign that read ROOF. He pushed the door open and stepped onto the roof overlooking the city below.

Chez stood at the edge and felt the wind tugging at his jacket. His eyes traced the empty streets below. He thought about the insurance company—how they'd reduced his mother's life to just numbers in a ledger. He'd spent a month calling them, fighting, appealing, begging for someone to hear him. No one cared.

A lawsuit had seemed like the next logical step to hold them accountable, but after getting nowhere, Chez realized the lawyer was right. Even if the insurance company were in the wrong, they held all the power—the lawsuit would drag on in the courts for years, and in the end, they would continue doing what they always did: cutting essential coverage.

And the world just accepted it. People had grown numb to it, like it was some inevitable part of life—feeding the weakest to the insatiable greed of their dark gods. To hope for change, to expect anything better, was to be a fool. Who wasn't a madman to believe humanity could rise above this endless sacrifice? In the end, Chez realized the system would always eat the helpless, and the rest would go on pretending it isn't happening, walking in sunlight unaware of the cost, and confusing ignorance with innocence.

It wasn't about winning; it was about accountability, atonement. Tears streaked Chez's cheeks as a dark guilt weighed on him. A lawsuit wouldn't change anything, but perhaps a plea to those blinded by the illusion of innocence would. If they saw their footsteps stained with the blood of the helpless, if they realized they'd shielded the monsters feeding on the weak, would they rise up? Would they demand change, not from justice, but to cleanse themselves of the savagery they allowed? He thought of history, of movements ignited by a single spark, a catalyst, a face for the cause.

The chilly wind felt cathartic. He inched closer to the edge, the toes of his shoes peeking out above the sidewalk. Chez closed his eyes and wondered what it would feel like to die.

He envisioned the newspaper headlines the next morning, the public outcry, and the demand for accountability from the people in charge who would have to acknowledge what they had done. Would it be enough to force a long term change upon the industry? Even if it was just temporary, Chez acknowledged, it would be atonement enough.

It wasn't justice. But it might be enough.

Barely audible over the sound of the wind, Chez's phone began ringing in his pocket. He was about to ignore it but noticed it was the executor of his mother's estate.

"Mr. LaFleur," the man greeted. "I'm sorry to bother you so late. I just stopped by your house to deliver a box of your mother's personal effects. Will you be home soon?"

Chez wasn't sure. The lawyer said he needed to rush off and asked if it would be okay to leave the box in front of his door. Chez said it would be and a moment later they hung up. He stood at the edge of the building deciding what to do. He pictured the box of his mother's belongings outside in the cold where it could get wet. A moment later he stepped back, deciding he couldn't abandon it there; it was still a piece of her.

Back at his apartment, Chez stared at the brown package in front of his door. Carefully, he picked it up and entered the empty home. He took a pocketknife and cut the tape on the top and sides, opening it curiously. He began taking out and examining each of her personal effects.

Most of it held no meaning to him: a yellow scarf with a bird he'd never seen her wear, a few pieces of jewelry, a small blanket. He wondered why his mother had decided to keep such things. Underneath several papers, Chez noticed a red journal. He picked it up and opened the flap. A polaroid fell out and landed on the floor.

It was an over exposed picture of his mother holding a baby wrapped in the same blanket from the box. She was sitting in front of a window looking grim-faced at the camera. He turned the polaroid over. On the back was simply written "Baby Boy".

Chez turned to the journal where the picture had been kept and saw his mother's familiar handwriting.