Page 74 of Forgotten

“Family Jewels,” I said.

“The ring place?”

“The ring place.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Charlotte

“Good lord, how old is this?” Tamara asked, holding out yet another piece of clothing that I assumed was from the early nineties.

“Old enough to have voted multiple times,” I said. “Toss it.”

“Ugh,” Tamara said. “And this? What is this? It looks like a costume for someone going to school as a depressed clown.”

“That’s mine,” I said, yanking the striped shirt out of her hand and pulling it tight to my chest. “It was a look, all right. I was an emo kid for like five minutes.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Tamara said. “You didn’t do the bangs, did you?”

“Yes she did,” Mom said from her place among a stack of boxes. “She hated it. Said I didn’t do the cut right. But I wasn’t about to make her look like one of those skater girls.”

“I still maintain you stunted my individual growth there, Mom,” I said.

“I stunted your ability to have embarrassing pictures in middle school is what I did,” she said.

“Mom, why did you keep all this crap?” Tamara asked. “You could have donated all of this a decade ago if not more.”

“I didn’t want to,” she said. “I wanted to keep it around. It made me feel like I was keeping a little part of the two of you around.”

I felt the pain in that statement. She had been hurt when I moved to Oklahoma to live with Dad. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t tell her why I did it. It was still so much of a secret that I felt I needed to keep it. But knowing now how much it hurt her, I wished I had found another way.

“Ooh, this is pretty,” Tamara said. “Look.”

She was holding a dark blue dress, one of Mom’s from when I was little. I vaguely remembered her wearing it. She looked over and smiled.

“I was wearing that the day I found out I was pregnant with you, Tamara,” she said. “After I gained weight with you, I never fit in it again. But I couldn’t bear to get rid of it. It’s so pretty.”

“It really is,” Tamara said. “Look, I think it’ll fit you, Charlotte.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“Fashion show time,” Tamara said. “Let’s go.”

“We’ve got too much to do here,” I said. “Trying to unclutter this house is going to take way more time.”

“We can take five minutes and try on a dress, sis,” she argued. “Let’s go.”

Shrugging, I followed her back to my old room, which was still mostly the same as it ever was. There was a newer, smaller bed, and a lot of my stuff was either packed away or with me, but some of the furniture and other things were still in their place. Tamara sat on the bed as I disrobed, then stepped into the dress and pulled it up.

“That looks great on you,” she said as I looked in the mirror at my reflection. It did seem to fit quite well, and I loved the fabric.

“I like it a lot,” I said. “I wonder if Mom would be okay if I wore it sometime.”

“I think she’d be fine. Maybe you could wear it on a date with Jesse.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Speaking of,” she began.

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