Had I really been so clueless?
Or had I just been heartless?
I remembered Bryce’s stumbling confession of his feelings. My immediate reaction had been to assume he was joking. But then he’d kissed me, and I had panicked. I pushed him away and forcefully told him about my plans for California.
I told myself I was shocked, and that I never suspected he felt anything more for me than friendship. Looking back, I don’t think that was true. I think I knew he loved me. And I didn’t want to acknowledge his feelings, because then I might have to acknowledge my own, lurking below the surface. It was easier to pretend we were just friends. Because I could leave a friendship behind to go to LA.
I tucked the yearbook back in the box and covered it again with the graduation gown before reclosing the lid.
I pulled another box off the shelf and dusted it off. It was unlabeled, but inside, I found more yearbooks. Not mine, though. These were Mom’s.
Curiosity had me flipping through the pages, reading the notes from friends in elegant script my generation never practiced.
I frowned as I read the messages.
Best of luck in New York! Come back to visit. Love, Patricia
You’ll be a star for sure. Love you forever, Sassy.
Don’t forget me when you’re famous! -Dale
I flipped through the book, looking for more clues. I found Mom’s portrait, admiring her beauty and smile. The quote beneath her photo read, “Follow your dreams. They know the way.” After skimming every page, I found the “most likely to” section. Beneath “Most likely to star on Broadway,” Mom’s photo was proudly displayed.
Tucked between the pages of the yearbook, I found a train ticket to New York City, dated June 1981. My mind raced. There had been mentions over the years about how Mom had wanted to go to New York. But I didn’t realize she’d actually gone. I’d always assumed she never had the chance. That it was money holding her back or something. She hadn’t been able to chase her dream, and it always made me that much more determined to follow my own.
But the train ticket and the yearbooks made it seem like she’d actually done it. That it wasn’t just a pipe dream—it was a dream with a plan. So what happened? Had she gone and then come back?
I rifled through the rest of the box, looking for anything else that pointed me to New York, but I didn’t find anything. No photos of the city or other tickets. Instead, I found a stack of envelopes, tied with twine.
I opened the first one, and tears filled my eyes. Love letters. From my dad. They were dated from April of 1981 to September of 1981. I knew that was when they’d gotten married. It didn’t look like any of them had been sent through the mail.
The letters mentioned places and things they’d done. Kisses they’d shared that summer.
I looked back at the ticket on the floor next to the trunk. A ticket. Not a ticket stub.
Mom hadn’t gone to New York after graduation, despite having the ticket in her pocket.
She’d stayed here and married my dad instead.