Thirty-Four and a Half Predicaments
Page 25
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“It’s just gonna take some time. Probably lots of it.”
Muffy finished her business—which included sniffing the ground like she was a bloodhound, especially around the front bushes—and we went inside to get to work.
After I poured a cup of coffee, I sat at the table with the journal and a pad of paper and a pen. There were probably answers in these pages, answers to questions I had avoided asking for too long. But now I was ready for the truth, as hard as it might be to face. Running away from the possibility of something ugly in my birth mother’s past wouldn’t make it any less true.
I started at the beginning.
I’d already read about how she started the journal as a high school project. She wrote about school, boyfriends and friends, usually referring to people by their initials rather than their full names. Her best friend was H, but they also hung out with BM (unfortunate girl) and A. After flipping through the journal for a minute, I got to Dora’s time at community college. She had several boyfriends—all disastrous relationships—who occupied her time. But her world fell apart when her grandmother died. She had already lost her parents when she was five and her grandfather when she was fourteen. She had no siblings or extended family. Her greatest fear was being alone.
I’ve prepared myself for this day for practically my entire life, but now that it’s happened, I can barely breathe. I go into Grandma’s room and lie down on her bed, trying to breathe in what’s left of her lavender perfume. Because as long as I can still smell her, I can pretend she’s here with me. When it’s finally gone, I’ll truly be alone.
She then wrote about her money troubles. Her grandmother had a Social Security income that ended at her death, leaving Dora destitute. She sold off her beloved horses to make ends meet and took off for Shreveport for a few years until she moved back to the farm, heartbroken after her latest breakup. Her friend BM told her about a job at Atchison Manufacturing.
She didn’t write much about the job except to say her boss was a kind man who sensed how alone she felt in the world. She had stopped dating, despite her loneliness, because she’d fallen into a deep depression.
In December of 1985 she talked about a man she only referred to as ‘he’ and ‘him.’ He was married and older than she was, and she made vague references to seeing him at work and avoiding each other as much as possible to avoid suspicion. They had a brief, heated fling. She knew it was wrong, but she felt like she finally had a purpose for living.
That passage caught my breath. As far as I knew, Daddy had always worked for the lumberyard. Did that mean he wasn’t the man she had an affair with? Did that mean he wasn’t my father?
I sucked in a breath and pushed on. In January she wrote:
He noticed how upset I was and one thing led to another. I’m horrified. I knew how he felt and I took advantage of that. Now what will I do?
She wrote a single entry in February.
How can something so wonderful be so terrifying at the same time? It’s so wrong, yet I’ve never wanted something so much. Finally, I’ll have someone to love, someone who will never leave me. Finally, I will have the family I’ve always dreamed of with my own precious baby.
Her entries were sporadic after that, with no mention of my father other than her desperation to keep her pregnancy a secret from everyone for fear the baby’s father would find out and try to convince her to abort.
In April she wrote an entry that confused me.
He’s shown more interest than I expected, and I’m finding him difficult to manage. He’s a man I can’t deny and it scares me.
Who was she talking about? Daddy? I’d never seen him be forceful with anyone. It was also hard to tell whether the man she wrote about scared her, or if her feelings for him were what frightened her.
In June she wrote about trouble at work.
I find myself caught in the middle of something that has accidently landed in my lap. I can choose to look away or I can do the right thing, but what is the right thing? I only know I must protect my baby.
How had I missed these entries before?
There were more entries about the farm and her pregnancy; then in July she mentioned Daddy.
H has found out about the mess I’m in and has offered to help me find a way out. While I’m grateful, I can’t screw up his life any more than I already have. What am I to do?
What did that mean? Was Daddy her lover from the previous winter? Or could she have been referring to something else?
In the beginning of August, I found the first entry that explicitly mentioned her boss’s name.
Henry is obstinate in his belief that all is well, but the books continue to prove otherwise. Money is disappearing. He’s cold and evasive when I press the matter. He’s told me that he’s doing this for me just as much as he is for himself.
Why would her boss be doing something for them both that involved missing money? I told myself not to think the worst. The rest of the entries in August were about getting ready for my birth and Daddy.
I’ve told H that he must think things through carefully. There is his toddler to think about, as well as his wife. He says that he loves me, but things are complicated.
Then a week later, Dora wrote:
A girl. I’m having a precious baby girl. I’ve decided to name her Rose after my grandmother. How I wish my grandmother were with me now to help me with the decisions I face. I think she’d welcome my baby—despite the circumstances of her conception.
Dora began to write about Gloria and how mean she and the other office girl had become.
Muffy finished her business—which included sniffing the ground like she was a bloodhound, especially around the front bushes—and we went inside to get to work.
After I poured a cup of coffee, I sat at the table with the journal and a pad of paper and a pen. There were probably answers in these pages, answers to questions I had avoided asking for too long. But now I was ready for the truth, as hard as it might be to face. Running away from the possibility of something ugly in my birth mother’s past wouldn’t make it any less true.
I started at the beginning.
I’d already read about how she started the journal as a high school project. She wrote about school, boyfriends and friends, usually referring to people by their initials rather than their full names. Her best friend was H, but they also hung out with BM (unfortunate girl) and A. After flipping through the journal for a minute, I got to Dora’s time at community college. She had several boyfriends—all disastrous relationships—who occupied her time. But her world fell apart when her grandmother died. She had already lost her parents when she was five and her grandfather when she was fourteen. She had no siblings or extended family. Her greatest fear was being alone.
I’ve prepared myself for this day for practically my entire life, but now that it’s happened, I can barely breathe. I go into Grandma’s room and lie down on her bed, trying to breathe in what’s left of her lavender perfume. Because as long as I can still smell her, I can pretend she’s here with me. When it’s finally gone, I’ll truly be alone.
She then wrote about her money troubles. Her grandmother had a Social Security income that ended at her death, leaving Dora destitute. She sold off her beloved horses to make ends meet and took off for Shreveport for a few years until she moved back to the farm, heartbroken after her latest breakup. Her friend BM told her about a job at Atchison Manufacturing.
She didn’t write much about the job except to say her boss was a kind man who sensed how alone she felt in the world. She had stopped dating, despite her loneliness, because she’d fallen into a deep depression.
In December of 1985 she talked about a man she only referred to as ‘he’ and ‘him.’ He was married and older than she was, and she made vague references to seeing him at work and avoiding each other as much as possible to avoid suspicion. They had a brief, heated fling. She knew it was wrong, but she felt like she finally had a purpose for living.
That passage caught my breath. As far as I knew, Daddy had always worked for the lumberyard. Did that mean he wasn’t the man she had an affair with? Did that mean he wasn’t my father?
I sucked in a breath and pushed on. In January she wrote:
He noticed how upset I was and one thing led to another. I’m horrified. I knew how he felt and I took advantage of that. Now what will I do?
She wrote a single entry in February.
How can something so wonderful be so terrifying at the same time? It’s so wrong, yet I’ve never wanted something so much. Finally, I’ll have someone to love, someone who will never leave me. Finally, I will have the family I’ve always dreamed of with my own precious baby.
Her entries were sporadic after that, with no mention of my father other than her desperation to keep her pregnancy a secret from everyone for fear the baby’s father would find out and try to convince her to abort.
In April she wrote an entry that confused me.
He’s shown more interest than I expected, and I’m finding him difficult to manage. He’s a man I can’t deny and it scares me.
Who was she talking about? Daddy? I’d never seen him be forceful with anyone. It was also hard to tell whether the man she wrote about scared her, or if her feelings for him were what frightened her.
In June she wrote about trouble at work.
I find myself caught in the middle of something that has accidently landed in my lap. I can choose to look away or I can do the right thing, but what is the right thing? I only know I must protect my baby.
How had I missed these entries before?
There were more entries about the farm and her pregnancy; then in July she mentioned Daddy.
H has found out about the mess I’m in and has offered to help me find a way out. While I’m grateful, I can’t screw up his life any more than I already have. What am I to do?
What did that mean? Was Daddy her lover from the previous winter? Or could she have been referring to something else?
In the beginning of August, I found the first entry that explicitly mentioned her boss’s name.
Henry is obstinate in his belief that all is well, but the books continue to prove otherwise. Money is disappearing. He’s cold and evasive when I press the matter. He’s told me that he’s doing this for me just as much as he is for himself.
Why would her boss be doing something for them both that involved missing money? I told myself not to think the worst. The rest of the entries in August were about getting ready for my birth and Daddy.
I’ve told H that he must think things through carefully. There is his toddler to think about, as well as his wife. He says that he loves me, but things are complicated.
Then a week later, Dora wrote:
A girl. I’m having a precious baby girl. I’ve decided to name her Rose after my grandmother. How I wish my grandmother were with me now to help me with the decisions I face. I think she’d welcome my baby—despite the circumstances of her conception.
Dora began to write about Gloria and how mean she and the other office girl had become.
