The Keys - Part 3 (Last goodbye)

Read part 1 here, part 2 here.

A second plane delay due to heavy ice storm had left me stranded at the airport. I tried to sleep but my mother's words ran through my head. I read the letter again and again but find no solace in her words. But at least I knew why she left.

A pair of dark loafers appeared in front of me. I looked up to see Michel smiling down at me. I was surprised by his appearance but could not find any words to say. His face was all red with excitement, his blue eyes twinkling in the bright airport lights. He brushed blond strands of hair away from his forehead and said,"I think I might know someone who is also looking for Rebecca Morgan."

He carried my bag over his shoulder and held out his hand to me. I was too stunned but took his hand. Back at the hotel, we took the elevator up in silence. I stared at my shoes, my mind all empty out.

Michel told me someone was also looking for my mother a few weeks back. He was staying at the same room as my mother. His sign-in name was Joseph Jonathan. Jonathan, my father's middle name. My auntie used to called him Jonny.

Michel knocked at the door a few times but no one was answering. We waited hoping maybe he was just waking up from a nap. Fifteen minutes later, still no respond. "He didn't check out. No one saw him leave. So..." Michel looked at me, looking a little distress. I just stared back at him with a straight face.

After a while, Michel used his key to open the door. Inside, it was dark. The windows were open. Cool air was rushing in. Michel turned on the lights. There was the smell of liquor all around the room.

He looked so peaceful, laying there, fully dress in a black suit with a white shirt. His eyes were closed wearing a strange smile on his face. Michel called his name, "Mr. Jonathan!" Joseph did not moved a muscle.

I touched his forehead, brushing his gray hair away from his eyes. I knew without a doubt he was gone. I felt his cool skin under my hand. "Do you know him?" Michel asked me. "Yes," I replied. "He's my father." I heard these words coming from my own lips almost a whisper but knew it was true. He will always be my father no matter what. I wanted to laugh but cry instead. My eyes emptied out the tears that I had kept inside these last fifteen years. I could not stop them as they flowed easily down my cheeks and onto my shirt. Michel placed his arm around me. I felt strange but relief. I let my eyes rain down on me. I wrapped my arms around Michel without any thought. He held there for a while.

From what they can tell, Joseph had drank himself to death. There were tons of liquor bottles around the floor of the bed and on the bed around him. The winter wind from the window must have cooled his body. He had been there for three weeks, never ordering any food, just liquor. The room was fully paid for. I was glad because I had no money. He left a letter to me, not saying much except he was sorry he could not bring mother home to me. HIs last words were, "I love you, Bobbie, even knowing you were not my own." Signed, Papa, which I used to called him when I was little.

At the sight of my father's body inside that wooden box, I was happy. At last he's at peace. No more chasing my mother across the continents. No more having to worry where he was or whether he was okay. I was caught off guard by Michel's kindness. I would never have been able to get my father back home. Michel held my hand as I stared up at the plane flying in the air with my father in it.

I felt a sudden aching pain in my stomach. I let go of Michel's hand. I felt myself falling onto the lush blue carpet. I woke to find Michel staring down at me with a worry look on his face. I looked into his eyes in the brightly lit room. Where was I? I sat up feeling faint and weak. Michel helped me up and placed a pillow for me to lean against.

I thanked him for his kindness. I told him I cloud not afford to pay but he just smiled at me and said in a very well spoken English that he will pay for me. As a loan, I can pay him back later. He explained that he brought me here to the emergency room after I fainted.

He told me I can call him Michael. He had only been living in France for a year. He was born here but had moved to New York right soon after. His parent wanted him to live in America. He came here for a woman but fell in love with the city instead. He only uses the fake english accent so people would think he was French which he was.

For two days, I stayed there as I was too weak to even move. Michael, as I called him now, got me a plane ticket by trading in my old one. I was to fly straight home, no stops in between. I was glad he planned my trip. I didn't even know I wanted to go home until he told me about the ticket.

All that was left was the house left by my auntie. Last December, I was all ready to leave but when my auntie got sick, I felt I needed to stay to take care of her. She died a few months later. I was free to search for my parents. My auntie, Sarah was her name, took care of me all these years, never letting me go astray. She talked me into staying and finishing my education. I was grateful to her when at her deathbed, she told me to go and find my parents. My father after all, was her brother. She had promised him she was going to take care of me. She did her job and I will forever remembered those nights when she held me in her arms and comforted me when I had nightmares.

I felt as if all my worries had been lifted. Now I know about my parents and what happened, I felt a certain relief. As I sat there waiting for the plane to take off, Michael plodded down next to me. I was surprised. He smiled at me with those amazing blue eyes that just melts my sad thoughts away. How handsome he looked out of his red uniform. I didn't know what to say so I just smiled at him. He buckled his searbelt and then he held my hand as the plane took off. I guess he was a bit afraid of flying as his face suddenly turned a pale shade, his grip tighten. Someday I will have to tell him what it was that led me to him.