Finding Light

Lisea appeared at the doorway of her daughter's bedroom and leaned against the wooden door frame, watching her daughter pack. Ramona didn't notice her until she let out an audible sigh.

"Hey Momma," Ramona smiled, continuing to fold a T-shirt as neatly as possible. Ramona had a habit of calling her Mother 'Momma,' just for something different to say, plus she liked to put on a southern accent. "What's up?"

"Oh nothing," Lisea replied, walking into the room and handing Ramona a mug of hot chocolate.
"Thanks Mom," Ramona said as she sipped the warm beverage and paused to watch the snow fall outside her window.

"Are you sure you want to go to California?" Lisea asked, sitting on the edge of Ramona's bed and smoothing the comforter.

"Obviously Mom, why wouldn't I?" Ramona questioned as she began to fold her clothes again.

"I don't know sweetie," she shrugged, "I mean, you were just out there for Thanksgiving."

"Mom," Ramona reasoned, "You know I don't get to see dad that often. And New York in February is so... bleak. Besides, you'll be busy taking pictures of everything at Fashion Week anyway."

Lisea was silent for a minute. "I guess you're right," she sighed, "I was just hoping you'd come to that gallery opening with me."

Ramona gave her a sad smile. "I know, but you'll be fine. Bring Toby with you!" she suggested, referring to the man her mom had been seeing the past few weeks.

Lisea didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that Toby had broken things off with her a week earlier. Instead, she stood up and smoothed her skirt. "You know what, you're right." She said as she walked across the room and pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to miss you like crazy though,"

"I'll miss you too, Mom."

*-*-*

Sandwiched between his girlfriend and daughter, Tré Cool felt trapped and completely and utterly bored. It was only an hour and a half into the six-hour flight to California and he had already read two magazines and watched a documentary on the in-flight TV.

Desperate for something to do, Tré searched frantically for something to entertain himself with; his eyes settling on a bag of roasted peanuts. He carefully pushed a peanut up on of his nostrils and another up the other. Then he placed two more in his ears.

Snickering to himself, Tré turned to his left in order to show his daughter. But when he did he found Ramona staring out the window at the sea of clouds, completely immersed in her own head.

Tré frowned a bit and returned facing forward as he removed the peanuts. After about two seconds he let out another sigh of boredom, causing Eliot to look up from her book. Eliot gave Tré a small smile and laced her fingers with his as her eyes returned to the book, searching the page for her place.

The drummer continued to watch her smirking to him. He loved the way her reading glasses always slid down her nose, making her look like an old granny if it wasn't for the smooth face a thirty-five year old that they framed.

Feeling suddenly contend, Tré placed his head on Eliot's shoulder and stole another glance over at Ramona.

She was sitting with her legs under her, writing in the diary that Tré had given her for her thirteenth birthday. Her eyes were hard and filled with a sadness that tore at her father's heart because he knew that he had caused it.

You asshole, he thought to himself.

**

Ramona watched as her father threw the last of her suitcases on the bed of her new bed, in her new official home.

"Christ Ramona," Tré fell backwards on the mattress, "How many bodies did you manage to fit in these?"

Ramona grinned for the first time in days and began to unpack her belongings. Tré sat up and offered to help. "Sure. Knock yourself out," she said, pointing to a particular suitcase. Ramona knew her father too well. The last time he offered to help her get settled he ended up wearing her bra and bikini bottoms, dancing in front of Eliot and her half-brother, Frankito. This time she made sure she pointed him toward a more conservative suitcase.

Tré unzipped the luggage and flipped open the top. The first thing he noticed was that the suitcase was a complete mess, and it made his heart sink.

Ever since Ramona was six years old and her mother had taught her to fold, Ramona had packed her suitcases as if she was ready for a Navy-Seal Inspection. Not one shirt would be wrinkled or carelessly tossed in, even if she only had a moments notice to be packed. It was a pet peeve of hers and Tré had even deemed her the 'Luggage Nazi' because of it.

But looking into this particular bag, Tré wondered if Ramona had even packed it. Clothes were astray everywhere in the square suitcase and a hairdryer was resting on top of the mess along with some other shower and hair care supplies. It seemed like she didn't even care.

The punk rocker decided against saying anything and instead quietly folded each item of clothing, something he was terrible at doing, and placed them in the dresser drawer.

When the last pair of jeans was put away, Tré sighed satisfied and took a sip of the Coke that Eliot had brought upstairs for them.

"Well that's done," he smiled and rubbed his daughter's back. "What do you say the three of us go to Amari's for dinner?" he suggested. Amari's was Ramona's and Tré's favorite Italian restaurant, and they always went there on the first night Ramona was in town.

"No thanks, Dad," Ramona sighed, "I'm kind of tired from the trip and everything." She peered at the clock, it was eght o'clock. "I just think I'm going to make it an early night. Maybe tomorrow."

Tré's shoulders dropped, "Alright baby," he said, rubbing the top of her strawberry hair. "Well, you know where we are if you need us. And the kitchens open, you know that. Just don't try to make me cook anything." Ramona let out a chuckle and it relieved him a little. He kissed her forehead, "'Night sweetheart. I Love you,"

"Night Dad, Love you too."

**
"I just, I don't get it." Tré shook his head and looked down at the mattress. He was sitting in bed with Eliot, who was trying her best to soothe him. "I just want to make it seem like everything's going to be back to normal."

"I know baby," Eliot said, taking his hand in hers and giving it a good squeeze. "But you have to realize that, maybe she isn't ready for that yet."

"Well when will she be?" he asked, still not lifting his head.

"I don't know honey; it could be a few weeks, a few months or even a few years. People," she paused, "People mourn differently."

"I know," he said quietly "It's just..."

"And Tré, think about it." She interrupted, "Dealing with a suicide is hard enough but it was her Mother,"

"Tré looked up at her, his eye's were hardened and rimmed with tears. "I know who she was, El," he said angrily.

Eliot's heart sank down to her feet; she looked down, averting her eyes from his. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's alright," he said, putting his arm around her. "It's just that, I'm trying to make everything seem normal for Ramona, but at the same time, I'm still trying to grasp the situation and make sense of it all."

Eliot leaned over and kissed him, "Well, I'm always here to help you with that, and Ramona too. I love you both so much and I hate seeing either of you like this. So if you want to talk about it, I'm always here. Alright?"

Tré nodded and kissed her. "I love you," he murmured to her, nuzzling her neck.

Eliot smiled, "I love you too."

'But if I told you what happened you probably wouldn't,' Tré thought guiltily to himself.