dishes and lawsuits.

after plodding home from her shift at the diner down the street, jeanette stumbles into the apartment to find sonya drying the dishes. "hey bitch," the latter calls over her shoulder as the door shuts and her roommate turns the lock with a click. "there's a letter for you at the table."

jeanette's exhaustion only allows her an eye roll. "is it from the attorney? seriously, sonya, i'm tired. this whole will-lawsuit-inquiry fiasco can wait for tomorrow."

"no, i swear this one's not from mister-hello-i-wear-too-much-hair-gel-and-i'm-here-to-take-your-money. it's from anna."

at the sound of her sister's name, jeanette raises her eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "fine, i'll take a look. but it better be from her."

sighing, she walks over, slings her bag on the corner of an adjacent chair, and seats herself. sonya isn't kidding; their apartment address is handwritten in her sister's familiar scrawl. as sonya stacks the plates into the kitchen cabinet, she tears along the envelope's seal, grateful for a change from the bills, junk mail, and interrogative papers from lawyers demanding to know details about the relationship between her and her late divorced father. to jeanette, it never mattered that her mother kept custody of her and anna, and that dad raised another family with another woman. she would always be her daddy's girl. always.

another thought crosses her mind--what news does anna bring whose importance merits not a phone call, not an email, but a letter via snail mail? her sense of urgency rising, her fingers dance forcefully around the folded paper until the envelope's contents are exposed and pinned to the table, bared for her eyes to pore over. it takes her one time to read the information, a second time to allow the impact of its implications to envelop her, and a third time for her to believe it.

all dishes now piled into the shelves like a great deal of uncommonly clean soldiers in their bunkers, sonya shuts the cupboard door to turn on her heel and join jeanette at the table, whose eyes are motionless but shiny. "are you crying?"

"yes, but it's the type of crying that happens when i'm so happy and these tears aren't salty but made of fucking lollipops and lucky charms. come here." she beckons sonya to her side to peer at the cause of her tears in question. as she recounts the letter's contents, the words pass her lips in a husky whisper.

"the lawsuit's over now. anna finally got them to give me my part of the will and life insurance. my god, it's finally over. it's finally over."

wonderstruck with a revelation, her arms seize her roommate in an impulsive embrace. "we won't have to worry about the rent, sonya. the rent, the utility, the tuition...it's gonna be okay now...everything's gonna work..."

and as sonya wraps her arms around jeanette in return, accomodating the latter's head buried in the former's shoulder, everything really is okay, at least for now.