Page 77 of Choosing You

“For trusting me enough to tell me.” He gets up. “Okay, we’re watching the football movie. I might even make you watch it twice after you hid it like that.”

The rest of the night he acts completely normal, which is just what I wanted. He doesn’t kiss me again and I wonder if he ever will. What I told him probably totally freaked him out. No guy wants to date a girl who still hears her dead mother’s voice in her head. But at least he listened and he seemed to actually care, which is more than I expected.

* * *

Surprisingly,things aren’t weird at all between Garret and me after that night. Sunday we go out for our usual breakfast and the rest of the week goes on as normal. He doesn’t bring up what happened and neither do I. But I do think about what he said. Facing the past may be the only way to make the voices go away. Ignoring it sure hasn’t gotten me anywhere. It’s only made it worse.

Friday night I decide it’s time to open the letter that’s been sitting untouched in my desk drawer since my birthday. I’m not afraid of it anymore. Why should I be? Frank said it’s just my mother’s hopes and dreams for me. Coming from her, that should be comical.

Garret is at a house party a few blocks from campus. Halloween is tomorrow so it’s a costume party. Earlier I saw some girls leaving in their costumes, which looked more like lingerie. But apparently if you add a witch’s hat or strap on some angel wings, it’s a costume. Harper wore a sexy bunny costume, pink of course.

I think the entire college went to that party or at least everyone in my building. It’s completely quiet. I don’t even hear footsteps from the floor above. Garret asked me to go with him tonight, but I still have no interest in parties, especially this one, which will be packed with people.

Even though I decided to open the letter, I’ve been avoiding it. Now it’s 9 and I feel like I should just get it over with. I sit on my bed staring at the handwriting on the front, which still freaks me out. It’s like my mother is truly visiting me from the grave.

I tear open the envelope and inside is a full sheet, front and back, of my mother’s handwriting.

Jade, If you’re reading this it means that you’re 19 years old, which doesn’t seem possible as I look at you now, my three-week-old baby girl sleeping soundly in your crib. My little Jade, with your beautiful green eyes. My mother gave me a jade necklace for my 13thbirthday and I thought it was the most beautiful stone I’d ever seen. When your little eyes looked up at me for the first time, I knew that Jade would be your name.

I stop to examine the handwriting again. It’s definitely my mother’s but this doesn’t even sound like her. It’s like someone else wrote it. Someone who actually cared about me. I continue reading.

If I still had that necklace, it would be yours now. But I no longer have it. I lost it on the night that I’m going to tell you about. I wish I didn’t have to tell you any of this, but you have to know. Because if you’re reading this, then something bad has happened to me and I’m no longer there to tell you the truth.”

What does she mean by ‘something bad’? It almost sounds like she’s blaming someone else for what happened to her, which isn’t possible. Her overdose was her own doing. I keep reading.

“Last year, when I was still in college, I got a job as an intern for one of the candidates for the presidential nomination. Caucus season was in full swing and I was so excited to be part of it. When I wasn’t in class, I worked day and night with the other interns at the campaign headquarters.

One night we were helping out at a speech and I met a man there—about ten years older than me and very attractive. He worked on the campaign in a different state and was in Des Moines for the speech. We started talking and he asked me to dinner and I said yes. But he never took me to dinner. Instead he drove me outside of town and parked near a cornfield. It was dark and cold and I was so scared because part of me knew what he was about to do. He proceeded to do what I thought he would and when he was done, he left me there on the side of the road in the freezing cold. I was in such bad shape I thought for sure I would die there, but I woke up the next day in the hospital. The police asked me questions and I told them who did this to me. They said that no person matching that name or description worked for the campaign. They said what happened to me was a random crime. But I knew who did this to me and I refused to let him get away with what he’d done.

A friend of mine worked at the newspaper and I told him what happened but he couldn’t run a story about it because there was no evidence to prove it. The next night I got a call from someone telling me that if I repeated my story to anyone that something bad would happen to my parents. It scared me but I didn’t believe it. That week I began seeing a counselor at my college. I told her what happened. A few days later, there was a gas explosion at my parents’ house, killing both of them. I knew it wasn’t an accident. When I went for my next counseling session, the woman accused me of lying. She said I made the whole story up. And then she refused to see me.

The man who did this to me was determined to silence anyone who knew what really happened. Somehow he was able to silence the police, the hospital staff, my counselor—anyone who knew the truth. But he knew my parents wouldn’t keep his secret so he killed them. I thought for sure he’d kill me, too, but for some reason he left me alone and I don’t know why. Maybe he figured his threats were enough to keep me quiet.

I never spoke of the incident again. But out of that horrible night came the best thing that ever happened to me. You, Jade. I learned I was pregnant with you two months after this happened. I was so devastated after your grandparents died, but then I learned about you and it was like a miracle. I was actually feeling hopeful again. Then he called. Your father. He somehow found out. He ordered me to take care of it saying he would have money sent. I told him I would, but I never did. I dropped out of college and went to live with a friend in a small town just south of here. The past few months I haven’t left the house. I’ve been hiding out until you were born.

Just yesterday, I heard from him again. He knows about you. I told him I’d never tell my story if he agreed to leave us alone. And surprisingly he agreed. I don’t know if he’ll really leave us alone, but I can’t worry about it now because I have to take care of you. You’re all I have, Jade, and I’m being the best mother I can. I’m seeing a counselor at the free mental health clinic downtown. There’s a doctor there and he gave me medication to help with my depression and anxiety. I’m working so hard to get past this, Jade.

I know you want to know who this man is but I can’t tell you. I promised him I never would and I have to keep that promise. I’m only telling you this because someday he might try to contact you. Maybe he’d pretend he just found out about you or tell you he wants to be part of your life. Be a father. I don’t know why he would do that, but there’s always that chance, especially if I’m gone. So I wanted you to know the truth about this man. If he ever shows up, don’t believe anything he says. Stay away from him. He’s dangerous and although I don’t think he would ever harm you, I can’t be sure given what he’s already done. You’re probably living on your own now and I need you to be safe.

I’m so sorry I’m no longer there for you. I hope I was a good mother to you until my passing. You’re all that I care about and the only thing that matters in my life. I love you, Jade, with all my heart.—Mom

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

My head feelsdizzy and I have a sudden urge to throw up. I toss the letter on the floor and sprint down the hall to the bathroom. After I get sick I hang my face over the sink and splash cold water on it. I can’t stop shaking. I’m not sure if it’s from the freezing cold water or the shock from what I just read.

It can’t be real. The letter has to be some sick twisted joke my mother is playing on me. Now she’s telling me I’m the product of a rape? The one night stand story wasn’t bad enough? And she thinks my own father might try to harm me?

I hurry back to my room and search for a towel. As I’m drying my face, I see the letter still there on the floor and I’m tempted to tear it into a million pieces.

My mind is spinning as I think back to the few things my mom told me about her past. She did say she worked on a political campaign back in college, but she never went into details about it. And I remember her telling me about the small town she lived in before I was born. The one and only time I asked her about my grandparents, she went hysterical. She started throwing things and told me never to ask again. I was only 5. When I asked Frank about it years later, he told me they died in a house fire. I guess an explosion is similar to a fire.

Frank! He would know if any of this was true. I race to the phone. My fingers are shaking so much that I keep pressing the wrong buttons. After the third attempt, I get the number right. It rings and rings but nobody answers. Where the hell is Frank? He never leaves the house. Now when I really need to talk to him, he’s not home?

Even though I don’t want to, I force myself to read the letter again. And one more time after that. It was definitely written a long time ago. The mom I knew wasn’t coherent enough to put multiple sentences together on paper like that. Plus, she would never say I was all she cared about or anything like that.

What if it was all true? What if my mom became addicted to alcohol and pills because of what happened to her? Maybe my father threatened her again. Maybe it was all too much and she couldn’t deal with it. Just like I can’t deal with stuff. We’re exactly alike that way. But the shitty stuff I’ve had to deal with isn’t even close to being as bad as what she’s written here. I don’t know what I would do if something like this happened to me. I’d probably turn to alcohol and pills, too.

I call Frank again. Still no answer. I have to talk to someone and the only person I can talk to about this is Garret. I throw on my coat and go outside. I run to the main road that goes into town. The road is dark and I could easily be hit by a car but I have to get to Garret. I turn down a side street and from a block away I can see the lights and hear the noise coming from the party.

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