Page 52 of Secrets That Bind Us
“It’s not even noon. I can’t drink.”
She rolls those pretty hazels at me. “Be for real, you aren’t even on Texas time yet, Vee. Ain’t it almost happy hour in NYC?”
She has a point there. I don’t tell her about my dreams. The ones that are becoming more real every night. Or the creaking and opening doors or the random lights that kick on. I don’t tell her about the night after Dean came over how we came home to all of the faucets in every bathroom and the kitchen on, close to spilling over which would’ve cost so much in water damage had we not come home when we did.
She climbs out of the vehicle, and I slide over to the driver’s side. Before closing the door she puts her hand on my arm and squeezing a bit. “You aren’t alone Verity. Not anymore. I know you clawed your way out of here and didn’t want to come back. Even if it’s only for a year, you aren’t alone. So many of us cheered you on from afar, baby girl. You’re our Phoenix and there is an entire community here that supported you even when you didn’t want to support it back. I know you feel like maybe I forced you to. Actually, I know I kinda did.”
“Zo-" I huff out, belly swooping.
Her eyes glisten as she looks away and she sniffs. “But you have no idea how happy I am that you are here, Vee. So, do what you have to, okay? Take the day to yourself. Have one of your dance parties in your T-shirt and panties, and then we'll figure the coffee stuff out tomorrowafterwe go to the cake tasting and shopping for your maid of honor dress. Because if we go down-"
“We go down together.” I finish for her, and she nods.
“Every time.” She grins, closing the door and going back into the bookshop.
I’m inside Mama’s house, when I finally plop Mama’s old vinyls on my desk in the study. Grateful Will's crew is working on the barn before the storm coming tomorrow, I close the blinds to the study, put away the small treadmill and my yoga mat that I use when I need to get my mind right.
Once everything is put away, I immediately go to my room to undress. I kick off my wedges, shove off my skinny jeans, tear off the lace black shirt with the one button that turns it into a choker, and release my titties– throwing on Dean's old Adelaide High T-shirt with his jersey number(which I will never tell him I kept after all this time)- and go to the kitchen to grab myself a mug of wine.
I throw my hair up in a bun and go back to my study, mug of wine in hand, ready to tackle the box of vinyl records. I will say I’m a little proud Mama’s collection grew after Daddy disappeared. I sent her so many albums over the years– music being the thing that was transcendent between the two of us. She’d show me her old tunes– anywhere from Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald to Fleetwood Mac or George Strait– and I’d show her bands like Nirvana, Green Day, some Bullet for My Valentine, and even Avenged Sevenfold. We’d dissect thelyrics, and over the years, when I heard a song I thought she would like, or a band I thought she would enjoy, I’d write down what the lyrics meant to me, put it in an envelope and send it off with the vinyl.
Her collection now even had foreign artists I had fallen for while traveling.
I find the last album I ever sent her byThee Sinseers. Pulling it out of its sleeve, I take it to the record player and let the needle drop.“It Was Only A Dream”begins to fill the room softly. I take a sip of my wine, letting it settle on my tongue before I swallow it down– swaying my hips, feeling the music. I turn around, place the mug on my desk, and continue going through the old albums, setting them in their respective places on my shelves, dancing and sipping in between.
The song changes to“I Don’t Mind”and the light above me dims in tune with the music, the soft scent of daises and sunflowers fills the room. My bottom lip trembles. “I knew you’d like this band, Mama.” I whisper, feeling her presence all around me– and I keep dancing, spinning alone in the empty room where she died like she’s dancing with me. I shake off the tears forming in my eyes and continue on.
I’m almost done when my fuzzy sock-covered toe hits something white, and it shoots off under my desk. With a groan, I get down on all fours and shove a hand underneath where the wires are all connected. The album begins to whir, lowering in volume– telling me it’s time to flip it. I keep stretching, feeling around for the thing, about to give up when I finally feel it. I tug at it, and as soon as I sit back on my heels, I see it’s an envelope– no bigger than five by seven inches, as big as a postcard.
To: My Sweet Girl
Recognizing my mother’s handwriting, I rip it open.
My Dearest Verity,
Today is a lucid day for me, hardly any pain in my joints, and because of this, I’m taking advantage before my mind slips from me again– because I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be able to have a good day like this again. So much time between us has passed, and after what happened with your father, and you left, I didn’t know how to tell you this. You’ve been so happy away from this town, and I didn’t want you coming back. It’s laughable, since we both knew this day would come, but I have to tell you somehow. And so this is that how.
Richard Huntington is not your father.
I gasp, swallowing down the bile that rises in my throat, when she names my biological father asThomas. But there's only one Thomas I know in this town. The knowledge of now knowing all the fucking rumors whispered about me were true. Oh God. What happened to my father?
I did my best to protect you, and in the end, it wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, Richard knew, and that night it all happened– it all came to a head. It was not your fault. Please, Verity, know I didn’t push you away because I didn’t love you. It’s because I love you more than anything on this entire Earth that I pushed you away. You had a way out. A future. Bright. All the things this town seems to dim. I needed you to break the cycle.
Please know, my sweet, sweet girl, I would do it all again to protect you. I just wish the way we parted hadn’t been what it was, and I’m so sorry I kept this from you all these years.
Thomas waits for you, Verity. I let him know I wrote you this letter, and he waits for you– patiently. He did what he could, Verity until the only way for him to protect us was by staying away. He asked about youevery day, watching you grow up from afar. He loved you probably more than I did, and so my dying wish is for you to give him the chance to love you the way a good father would.
He will tell you everything you need to know, from his end. Some things you may remember… and some things from different points of you. In the end, remember it was to protect you. To make sure you got out of Adelaide alive. I love you, and I hope one day you find it in your heart to forgive me for keeping you from the father you deserved.
Anything else you find, sweet girl, you blame it on me. You hear me?
-Mama
I crush the letter into a ball in my fist, bringing it up to my lips– and right when I’m ready to let out a wail, the front door slams so loud I swear the windows rattle.
I jump to my feet, letting out a little yelp and call out, “Hello?” When there’s no answer, I’m suddenly all too aware of my attire. “Zoey?”
I step out of the study and into the hallway, seeing the basement door wide open. I take a few calming breaths. I keep my feet light when I make my way to the door.
