In the end, there were five boxes of shoes and ten garbage bags full of clothes. The only things I threw away was her underwear, open containers of lotion and the like, and used makeup. Her bottles of perfume went into a box. Handbags and wallets went into a box. Her jewelry I put in a box by itself and put it to the side, I didn’t know what Mr. Cole had given her and if he would want any of it back.
The only thing I kept for myself was a tattered old box I found hidden behind a stack of suitcases. When I opened the box, I found hand written letters from my mother and to her. There was a whole mess of photographs and a few other things in there. Immediately, I closed the box without looking through the contents. Curiosity raged inside me but I didn’t want an audience when I looked through it all. I wanted to be alone for that because I had no idea what I would find.
My Salt and Pepper twins were very sweet and, even though I could tell they wanted to ask me about the tattered box, neither of them made a peep about it.
They carried it all out to their truck and loaded it up without me having to ask them to and without me having to lift a finger.
I offered to order pizza but they both claimed they had something to do and needed to leave. I thanked them for the help and was sad to see them go. With Mr. Cole being gone, I was now all alone in the house and wasn’t very appealing to me at the moment.
After locking the door behind the twins and arming the alarm, I grabbed the box out of my mother’s now empty closet and headed up to my bedroom.
Chapter Twenty
After locking the door, I slowly made my way over to the bed. I was in no hurry to look through the box.
Locking the door to my bedroom might seem a bit ridiculous considering I was in the house by myself and all the doors and windows leading to the outdoors were locked up tight and the alarm had been turned on. It wasn’t ridiculous to me. I couldn’t be in my bedroom by myself and not lock the door behind me. Paranoia and fear owned me, I was their bitch when I was in my bedroom and my bathroom. Too much had happened here when I was supposed to be alone.
I sat on the bed and scooted towards the center, dragging the box along with me. When I got to the center of the bed, I curled my legs to the side as my hip and my elbow pressed into the bed. The side of my face rested in the palm of my hand as I eyeballed the box.
I wanted to
know what was in there, but, at the same time, I was scared out of my brain and did not want to know. Before today, I had never seen this box, or its contents, in my entire life. My mother had never struck me as the type of person to hold onto things like photographs, letters and keepsakes. The things in the box must have come before my time, or, from when I was too young to remember things. She had never, not ever, kept a photograph of me. There were no school pictures, no baby pictures, no nothing. And now I find pictures she had kept secret for the past however many years, maybe even more years than I had been on this earth.
It made my stomach churn.
She had hated me, honest to goodness, hated me. Her own daughter. What had I done to her to deserve such treatment? Maybe just being born had been enough in her book. It wasn’t in mine. If she hadn’t wanted to have kids then she should have learned how to use protection and maybe gotten herself on birth control.
I sat up straight, stretched my legs out in front of me and crossed my feet at the ankles.
The box sat on the bed, taunting me.
I could think of not one single person she had cared about enough to keep mementos of. Not one single, solitary human being. Not even herself. I knew how much she’d loved herself and had enjoyed her own image. She’d never even had pictures of herself around.
A small part of me wanted to take the box and everything inside of it out to the yard and light the bitch on fire. A far bigger part of me wanted to rip that sucker open and pour through every single little thing in there like it was my sole purpose in this world.
I sighed heavily as I leaned back against the headboard.
Why did I feel like the secrets hidden inside that box were going to be life altering? Probably because that hateful cow wouldn’t have kept the stuff inside the box for years and years if it hadn’t meant anything to her. Since I had never known her to care about anyone besides herself, this was huge.
I had to re-open the box, there was no getting around it for me.
I reached a hand inside and blindly pulled out the first thing I touched.
A folded-up piece of paper. A letter. I wished it had been a picture instead, that might have been easier to take in.
The paper was worn and had clearly been handled a great deal.
With shaking hands, I unfolded the letter and began reading.
My dearest Vivian,
I know you hate me and for that I am sorry. Sorrier than you will ever know. I won’t apologize to you because I know you don’t want to hear an apology from me and it wouldn’t mean anything to you. I understand this. I don’t have to like it, but I do understand it.
I have been patient with you. But, time is growing short for me and I need to see her. There are things I have to tell her, things she needs to know. Things only I can tell her.
Please, my beautiful sister, I beg of you, let me see my daughter.
I have money and will pay you, if that’s what it will take. I am more than willing to give you whatever it is that you want. Name your price and it’s yours.