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After my gut-wrenching walk down memory lane last night on the roof, I’d cried myself to sleep. I woke up feeling positively drained, but I knew I had to shake it off and go visit Mom, so I got ready quickly and headed out. My first stop was coffee. It was early in the day, but I was already tired. I pulled away from the coffee stand, thanked the barista, threw a tip in the jar, and steered Mom’s car onto the winding road that led to Ocean Beach Hospital. I’d returned the rental car last week, and I knew that I would need to buy my own eventually. For the time being, though, I was using Mom’s. I yawned, took a sip of the black magic, and willed the caffeine to speed through my veins quickly. Mom would be more alert today, and I wondered if she would remember our breakthrough conversation yesterday, or if she’d been too medicated to be aware of what she’d said.
Part of me hoped she would remember. Her apology was a big step on our road to reconciliation. I wanted to keep going forward, not in reverse. I glanced at the bouquet of flowers I’d picked up at the flower shop this morning and smiled. They were gerbera daisies, Mom’s favorite flower. I remembered her telling me once when I was a little girl that they were the happiest flowers, and I’d wondered why a perpetually unhappy woman would care about happy flowers. They had caught my eye this morning, and I hoped they would bring a little joy into her hospital room.
I pulled into the parking lot, locked up the car, and headed to the fifth floor. Dr. Riddles had left a message this morning letting me know that he’d already made his rounds for the day, so I wouldn’t see him. He relayed that Mom was doing well and had been moved into a permanent room on the fifth floor.
This was good news, and I tried to pull myself out from under the cloud of gloom that seemed to be following me. Letting myself remember too much last night had been a bad idea. Going onto the roof, where I was stampeded by memories of Sam, was an even worse idea. I probably shouldn’t do it again, but deep down, I knew I would. I was a glutton for punishment these days.
I stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to Mom’s room. Knocking lightly on the half-open door, I heard her say, “Come in.”
“Hey, how are you feeling today?” I stood awkwardly next to her bed, not quite sure what to do next.
“Um... I’m sore....” Mom tried to sit up a little more in bed and winced in pain at the effort.
I placed the flowers on her bedside tray and tried to help her adjust her body in the bed. Once she was settled, I wedged a pillow behind her back to help prop her up a bit. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Mom cleared her throat and gave me a shy smile. “The flowers are lovely. They’re my favorite.”
“I know. I remembered.” I shrugged, not sure what else to say.
“One time, when I was seventeen, my boyfriend bought me a huge bouquet of them; every color in the rainbow. My father had an absolute fit. He said I was too young to be getting flowers from a boy, and he threw them out the back door into the yard, vase and all. I was heartbroken. When he and my mother went to sleep that night, I snuck out and got them. I took them up to my room and pressed them between a stack of books to dry. I probably still have them somewhere....” Mom was momentarily lost in the memory, and I noticed that her face took on a softer look.
She’d never revealed any information about her parents before, and I found myself feeling sorry for the young girl she must have been. It sounded to me like perhaps she hadn’t had a great family life either; that might explain why she never knew what to do with me.
I was intrigued with the idea of Mom having a boyfriend. She hadn’t ever mentioned dating or boyfriends. Obviously, I was aware that she’d had at least one in her lifetime, since I wasn’t the Immaculate Conception, but she never talked about her past. I found myself wanting to know more about my mother. I’d honestly never given any thought to her life before me.
“You never mentioned any boyfriends before. What was he like?” I wondered if she would answer or completely shut down.
“Oh, that was a long time ago, Hope. It’s not important.” Mom waved her hand, as if she were shooing away the old memory. I decided not to push her. Instead, I surprised myself with what I said next.
“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about when I was younger. I think it might have something to do with the fact that I’m sleeping in my childhood bedroom. I was wondering... did you keep my old high school yearbooks? They used to be on the bookshelf downstairs, but I noticed the bookshelf is gone. It might be fun to take a look at them after all these years.” I hadn’t intended to ask the question, but it sort of just fell out.
“That old bookshelf was falling apart. I took most of the books to the used bookstore, but I boxed up your yearbooks and put them in the attic. You’re welcome to poke around if you want.” She took a sip of her water and cleared her throat. Her voice sounded weak, and she looked so tired. I knew she was trying to stay awake and alert since I was there. It was probably best if I went home and let her rest.
“I think I’ll do that this afternoon. It might be fun. You look exhausted, Mom. If you want to rest, I can leave....” I didn’t want to run off and leave her alone, but I also didn’t want her to stay awake to entertain me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m worn out. I don’t want to rush you off, but a nap does sound really nice....” She shrugged, and I could tell she was trying very hard not to hurt my feelings. I was surprised that she cared how I felt. It seemed we really might be forging a new path.
“Please don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot. The best thing you can do is rest. So, I’m going to go home and let you do just that. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I bent down and placed a tentative kiss on her forehead. I had no idea what possessed me to do so. She tensed momentarily, but it only lasted a second before I felt her relax.
When I stood up, I noticed she had tears welling up in her eyes, ready to fall. She patted my hand. “You’re a good girl, Hope. I’m sorry I never told you that before. But you are.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked if my mother told me she’d been abducted by aliens. Who was this woman? Not that I was complaining. It was just all so unexpected.
“Thanks. And you’re a good woman. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before either.”
I left the hospital with a very grateful heart.
###
When I arrived back home I was hungry. After feeding myself, I climbed the stairs to the attic. It was dark and dusty, and to be honest, I was a little creeped out. I felt along the wall for the light switch, and breathed a sigh of relief as the room lit up. I hadn’t come up here much as a child, and looking around I remembered why. Dust bunnies lurked in the corners and cobwebs lined the ceiling. In spite of myself, I really was curious about what was hidden up there, so I put on a brave face and started looking.
Meticulous as always, even in the attic, Mom had carefully labeled each and every box and stacked them all in neat rows along the wall. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if they were alphabetized, too. I found one that was labeled Hope and removed it from the stack. Luckily it was on top, so I didn’t have to worry about everything else tumbling over in the process. I opened the lid and was amazed at all of the memorabilia inside. There were old photographs and yearbooks, as well as some school papers I’d written.
I couldn’t wait to investigate. I decided to carry it downstairs to my room to inspect the items, since the idea of hanging out in the attic wasn’t very appealing. I was about to leave when I noticed a box sitting off to the side, away from all the rest. It wasn’t labeled, which seemed strange to me considering the careful organization of the other boxes.
“It’s probably nothing important. Just grab your box and get out of this creepy attic.” I spoke aloud and the sound of my voice echoed off the walls.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over and carefully opened the lid of the unmarked box. I’m not sure what I expected, but I gasped as I looked inside. It was filled with stacks of letters, and lying on top of them was a bouquet of dried gerbera daisies.
I knew the letters weren’t mine, and it was an invasion of privacy to look at them, but I pushed that thought aside because I was too interested to do otherwise. I pulled out the letter that was lying on top. It was inside a crinkled envelope addressed simply to Maggie.
I remembered Will had called my mother by that name. There was a number one in the upper right-hand corner, so it seemed like a good place to start. I opened up the aged letter with trembling hands and began to read.
Dear Maggie,
I know you probably don’t know me, but my name is Max. We’re in first period English class together. I know you’re kind of shy, and you seem to like keeping to yourself, so I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I think you’re really pretty, and you also seem nice, and not at all like the other girls. I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. I think it’s a good thing that you’re different. What I would really like to know is if you would like to meet up at the library and study together sometime? You’re really smart and always have the right answers in English class. I was hoping you could help me. Let me know.
Sincerely,
Max
I read and reread the letter, trying to picture my mom as a teenage girl. She’d obviously been different, even back then, according to Max. My interest was definitely piqued at this point, so I grabbed the box and carried it down to my room, leaving my own things in the attic. Somehow, they didn’t seem half as interesting as the discovery of Mom’s letters.
I curled up on my bed and began to read the letters, which were numbered from one to seventy. I was so engrossed in reading them that I didn’t even realize it was beginning to get dark. I glanced at the bedside clock and was startled to see that it was nearly seven o’clock. I’d been reading for hours, completely immersed in the world I’d stumbled upon. I looked at the number of the letter I was on and realized I’d read half of them already.
I was amazed at this sweet romance my mother had experienced. The letters evolved over the course of her senior year in high school, and from what I’d discovered, she and Max were quite in love. Their relationship was serious, and had become so very quickly. I was shocked at the similarities between Mom’s relationship with Max and mine with Sam. I hadn’t yet gotten to the end, but since I’d never heard of Max, my assumption was that it hadn’t ended happily.
I placed the letters back into the box and slid it under my bed. I still felt a bit guilty for intruding on something as private as Mom’s love letters, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I had to know how it ended. My stomach growled, reminding me that I should make something for dinner. Reluctantly, I left the world of Max and Maggie and headed downstairs, my mind still fixated on the letters. I couldn’t wait to learn more about my mom and her first love. Perhaps knowing her better would help me understand how she ultimately became the bitter woman who raised me.
