Elsie Collins had been a gifted artist. She was a loving wife. A doting mother and grandmother. And a bit of a hoarder. When Emersyn woke up the next day to another cold shower, she decided to go digging in the garage in the hopes of finding the reason the water wasn't getting hot. She didn't know too much about home repair, which was surprising, seeing as Kiel was a professional house flipper and landlord. But she was hoping all she had to do was flip a breaker or something. She opened the door to the garage and was shocked to see the mountains of boxes and other things that she had somehow missed the day before when she'd pulled her bike out. Her grandma had never wanted to throw anything away, much to her grandpa's frustration. She had insisted that she needed everything she collected for her art. And that may have been true. But now, as Emersyn stared at the piles of useless junk, she didn't see the treasures her grandma had seen. She only saw a mess.

"Great," she mumbled to herself as she turned away from the garage and headed back to her room to put on a pair of old ratty jeans, a holey t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. She had hoped to spend her day walking about town. Catching up with some old neighbors. Maybe applying to a job or two, if only to keep Kiel off her back. But now, after seeing the disaster in the garage, she knew she wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until the job was finished. So, after changing clothes, she made her way back to the garage and cracked open her first box.

Between cooking gadgets her grandma had never used but had gotten secondhand at thrift stores or yard sales, stacks of books on gardening, art, and local town history, and old records still packed carefully in their sleeves, Emersyn knew she had her work cut out for her. After stumbling upon some mouse crap and a decomposed corpse of some creature that looked like a rat, she decided it would be best to put on some gloves. So she made a trip to the local hardware store to pick up some protective gear before returning in the hopes of finishing the job.

But it didn't take too long after that for Emersyn to realize there was no way she'd get it all done in one day. This was going to be a project that would probably take her several weeks to finish. A good chunk of it was trash, but there was some of it she thought was in pretty decent condition. She'd have to make a trip to the church in the next few days to talk to the pastor about a church sale. Her grandpa would love that, even if it would kill her grandma all over again to see her precious treasures in the hands of someone else. After all, a skillet could be a hat for an engineer. And that fireplace poker could be used as an arm. Come on, Emersyn, darling. Open your eyes. That's what her grandma would've said to her. But her grandma wasn't there. And there were better uses for these things than just sitting in the garage collecting dust or mouse turds.

At about three in the afternoon, as she was sifting through a box of old books ranging from mint condition to totally destroyed, she stumbled across an old journal. Confused, as neither of her grandparents had ever mentioned anything about journaling, she flipped open the first page and felt her heart sink into her stomach. The first page of the journal said, Property of MT. MT. Emersyn stared at the words on the page, knowing in her heart that she was holding a book full of words Makayla Townsend, now Makayla Collins, had written in. Her mother. From the before times. Before the abandonment. Before the death of her dad. Maybe even... maybe even before her.

She debated with herself for a moment on whether or not she should even open it. After all, her mother was still alive, and she might not take too kindly to her daughter reading her old journal without her permission. She considered putting it back in the box where she found it and forgetting about it completely. But the pull was too strong. She had to know. And so, with slightly quivering fingers, she flipped the first page and began to read. The first several pages were written in pencil, so they were difficult to read. But flipping a few pages, she found some words written in ink.

ED and I snuck into the old lighthouse tonight after midnight. We leaned over the steel bars and stared out over the horizon. It's not a very tall lighthouse, but everything seems more when I'm with him. Even the stars twinkled brighter somehow. We talked for hours as we looked over the water, and I felt horrible for lying to him. All those questions he asked me, and I couldn't tell him the truth. I want him to know me. Really know me. But I'm scared that if he finds out, he'll tell. And I don't want to go back. I can't. Can I keep this up? And for how long?

He kissed me under all those stars, and he tasted like mint. He smelled like a forest after a spring rain. And the way he touched me was soft and gentle, but I felt so much heat beneath his fingertips. I feel like if I could choose anyone to tell, it would be him. I think, in a way, he might understand. But I'm not sure if I should take that chance. I should stay away from him. Maybe leave the town and try again. I mean, I was never planning on staying for long. But the more time I spend with him, the more I start to think that he could be my forever. And forever has never sounded better than when his lips are on mine. What do I do?

Emersyn's brow furrowed in confusion. Who was Ed? And why was her mom out at the lighthouse with this guy in the middle of the night making out? Her grandparents and Kiel had always told her that her parents had started dating in middle school. That they'd met when her mom moved to town at 12 years old, and they stayed together until the day her dad died. It was terribly romantic and tragic, and Emersyn had always longed to find a love as powerful as her mom and dad's had been. But if it was as strong as she'd been told, then who was Ed? Was her mom... cheating on her dad? She turned the page and was irritated to see more entries were written in pencil. Good grief, did her mom not own a pen? But after several pages, she finally found another written in black ink.

I know I shouldn't have. I know it was wrong. But I couldn't stop myself. ED and I made love on the beach last night. And I will never forget how his nails felt digging into my skin, or how soft his hair was beneath my fingertips. There's sand in my hair, and I've taken two showers already, but I can't seem to get it all out. I like it though. I kind of wish I could leave it in my hair forever, like a memory of that night.

But he still doesn't know, and now it's too late to tell him the truth. If he knew, he might never forgive me. And I think I might die without him. We've only known each other for a couple months, but I love him. I love him more than words could even say. It's like he owns the second part of my soul. God, is this how Catherine felt about Heathcliff? Does ED feel this way about me? The only way to know is to tell him the truth. To see how he reacts. But I'm afraid. What if he doesn't like what he hears?

"What the hell is this?" Emersyn said to herself, feeling anger boiling up inside her. All the stories she'd been told about her mom and dad, and they were all lies? She wanted to throw the book across the garage and never look at it again. But she was too intrigued by this secret her mom didn't seem to want to tell anyone. So even though she was sick at the newfound knowledge of her mom cheating on her dad with some asshole named Ed, she had to know how the story played out. She had to know the secret.

More pencil pages. Emersyn flipped through the journal quickly, hoping for at least one more page that hadn't faded away to total nothingness. And there it was. The last page of the journal. She braced herself for whatever she was about to learn and continued reading her mom's old journal.

The puking the last few days wasn't the stomach flu. I'm pregnant. God, I can't believe I'm writing those words. Me? Pregnant? I don't know how to be a mom. I don't even know how to be... me. The baby is ED's, so I went to his place today, hoping to tell him. But when I got there, he was furious with me. Said someone had come looking for me. Told me he knew the truth. I never thought I would see so much hurt and anger in his eyes as he berated me on how I could've ruined his life by not telling him the truth. I wanted to tell him. I really did. But I don't think I can now. If he knew, it would destroy him. Us. So there's only one thing to do.

I have an appointment at the abortion clinic tomorrow. I never really wanted to be a mom anyway. Honestly, I probably wouldn't be very good at it. And ED... well, I don't want to do this without him. My heart is broken, and I don't think I want to live anymore. It kind of feels like I've already died. Ironic that I'm actually carrying two souls with me, and yet somehow I feel like I have no soul left. God please, just take me. End this. Please.

She flipped through the journal, hoping to find something else. Anything else. But the pencil pages were pretty much unreadable, and there were no more ink pages left. She set the journal down and started looking for more in the box, but there was nothing other than old photo albums and cookbooks. Her eyes fell back on the old journal. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as the realization hit her. Her mom had had an abortion. Because she'd never really wanted to be a mom in the first place, and she didn't think she could do it without Ed.

So that was it. Her mom left her because she probably had never wanted her. It was most likely her dad who had wanted her, and her mom had kept her because of her dad. But did her dad know about Ed? And is that why her mom left her after her dad died? Because she'd never really wanted her at all? Anger, grief, and hurt were swirling around her stomach like a whirlpool, and she suddenly felt sick with all the overwhelming emotions.

Air. She needed air. She set the old journal on a chair and made her way outside. But every breath she took felt like she was sucking in water. Like she was drowning. For so many years, she'd wanted her mom to want her. More than anything else. But the truth was, she'd never even wanted kids. And there was nothing Emersyn could do to change her mind. That must've been why she'd left after her dad died. Why they couldn't get along even now, after all these years. She felt her heart, which was already hurting from the argument the other night, shatter into a million pieces. And they were so small that she didn't think anything, or anyone, would ever be able to put them back together again.

Her phone began ringing, and when she pulled it out of her pocket, she saw her mom's face pop up on the screen. Of course. But she couldn't think of a single person in the world she wanted to talk to less than her mother. So she hit the ignore button, and then pulled her mom's contact info up and blocked her. Yes, maybe she was acting impulsively, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, she was done with her mom. With Makayla. She took a few more deep breaths to calm her racing heart before heading back into the garage.

The journal was right where she left it on the chair, and seeing it made her want to puke. She picked it up and threw it, not back in the box where she found it, but in the bag she'd been using for trash. Then she kicked at it angrily with her foot and stormed back out of the garage and into her bedroom. Her walls were covered in paintings and pieces of art that she had made with her grandmother. And nothing, not a single item in the room where she grew up, made her think of her mother. Rage boiled inside of her as she lay in bed, cursing her mother's name six ways to Sunday.

The sun began to go down, and her stomach was rumbling with hunger. She considered calling Kiel to see if he wanted to go out to dinner with her. But she didn't want him to know how angry and hurt she was feeling. She didn't want him to try and justify her mom's actions. So she headed back into the kitchen and heated up some leftovers from the night before. It was her favorite meal, but that night it just tasted like how she was feeling. Bitter. She choked the food down and went back to her room again.

Night fell, and she tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep, haunted by the trauma of abandonment. She felt like she should cry, but no tears fell. There was too much anger inside of her heart. And finally, at nearly three in the morning, she slipped on a pair of shoes and headed back to the garage. The garbage bag was still sitting where she'd left it a few hours previous. And reluctantly, she reached into it and began digging around until she found the old journal again. She stared at it in disgust for a few moments, like it was another rotting rat corpse, and she seriously considered taking it out back and burning it. The thought of her mom's old words being reduced to a dirty pile of ashes brought her some sense of joy.

But she couldn't do it. That wasn't who she was. And she couldn't throw it away either. Because even though the words hurt, they still belonged to her mother. And as stupid as it was, she just couldn't let them go. So rather than throw the journal back in the trash bag, or even back in the box where she'd found it, she brought it to her room and set it under her pillow. It wasn't until she rested her head against it that she actually felt the hot, wet tears fall down her cheeks. She desperately wanted to hate her mom for leaving her. For never really wanting her. But she couldn't do it. She was still her mom. And no matter how hard Emersyn wished things were different, she knew they never would be.

Chapter Five

0 Comments