Twisted Proposal (4 page)

She was shorter than mom, and her bleached hair clashed with her tanned skin.
Now I see where Lexus got it from
. Her eyes were the same as the kids, and it was obvious she had work done on her nose and chest. Just looking at her made me angry and I closed out of the photo.

No way was I going to live with her.
It would be a nightmare and a constant reminder that Stuart chose to be with her instead of my mom. I had to figure a way out of this and fast.

Returning to the picture of my father, I sat amazed at how much we looked alike.  Our eyes, nose, and even the shape of our face was the same.

When I was little, I used to hold a picture of Mom next to my reflection to figure out if I would grow up to look like her.  I knew that my hair, height, and lean muscles came from her, but my face had always been a mystery to me. That is, until now.

I returned to the Van Buren Firm webpage and jotted down a few of the recent cases that they had won. Just for my own knowledge.
Who knows? It might come in handy.

“Dinner’s done,” Sandy called, and I deleted my history before joining her in the kitchenette.  Her card table reminded me a lot of the one I had at home, except for the color.

My home, to most people, looked like a run-down one-bedroom apartment with a leaky ceiling. But to me and mom, it was home-sweet-home, and it sure beat sleeping in an alley or a shelter. For a while, the only thing we had in the form of furniture was an old rug that was left behind by the previous tenants.

It was a glorious day when mom found the card table. She’d gotten it from a guy down the street whose wife threw him out. She lugged it up two flights of stairs and presented it to me with a grin.
God, I missed her. Why did she try so hard to please me?

Sandy placed a plate in front of me with a grilled cheese sandwich sliced in half with a few tomato wedges and lettuce on the side. She even poured me a cold glass of milk.

“Thanks.” I dug right in.

“Do you need some Tylenol or Advil or something for your eye?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, not looking up, hoping she wouldn’t ask me anymore questions.

To my amazement, it only took minutes to finish my food. I washed my plate and glass and set them both in the drainer to dry. “I’m going to bed now. Thanks for dinner.” 

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything. Oh and I lock the front door from the inside. I hope you don’t mind.”

So much for leaving tonight.
  “Uh, whatever. I wasn’t going to run.” I went back to the bedroom and straight to the window to look for any drain pipes that might grant me freedom, but she didn’t even have a tree near her place. Turning away, I decided I would spend the night.
At least I didn’t have to worry about getting frostbite.

As I changed into sweats and a tee shirt, my attention settled on the hand-painted blue lily on the side of the keepsake box. Placing it on the carpeted-floor in front of me, I untwisted the metal latch and lifted the lid. The carton was lined with a sateen white and blue polka dotted fabric that had yellowed with age.
Elizabeth’s keepsakes?
I picked up a dark blue velvet jewel box and flipped the top back, revealing a diamond ring. Stuart did say he
was
going to leave his wife for Elizabeth, so maybe this was her wedding ring. 
But why would mom keep this and not sell it for drugs?

I closed it and moved on. Next, I pulled out a gold necklace with a diamond-cut jade jewel hanging at the end. It was in the shape of a megaphone and had Briarwood Devils written on it.
Cheerleading?
This had to be Elizabeth’s.  As far as I knew, mom never did anything in high school.
What was going on?
This was like opening Pandora’s Box. I sat back against the bed closing.
Why hadn’t I seen this stuff before?

Chapter Four

I spied a piece of crumpled paper pushed into one of the corners and at first I dismissed it for a receipt, but then I unfolded it and gasped:

Certificate of Birth

Mother: Eve Serena Solomon

Father: Stuart David McDaniel

Date of Birth: November 9
,
1996 at 11:35 pm.

Turning the paper over, I felt the indention of an invisible stamp confirming my worst fears.
She’d lied to me.
I scrunched up the paper and threw it down. I don’t know why I was surprised. This was typical Eve drama. Evade the truth as long as possible.

Anger pulsed through my veins. I wanted to scream, fight, and kick. Now I knew the truth. Stuart
was
my father, no need for the paternity test now.
Would it be morally wrong to hate someone who was dead? Why couldn’t my mother been Elizabeth? At least then maybe I would have had a chance at a decent life, maybe.
I had half a mind to throw the box out the window and forget about it.

No, I couldn’t do that.
Forcing myself, I went back to the container and lifted up an old photo of my mom and aunt dressed in matching blue and green school uniforms. Even back then, it was easy to tell them apart. Elizabeth wore a white polo underneath her dark blue blazer, while Eve rocked a black-and-white striped sleeveless top and her blazer over her shoulder. Both of them had matching knee high socks and hair pulled back, Elizabeth’s with a plaid ribbon. I turned the picture over in my hands. Scrawled across the back in purple ink:
Senior Year, Briarwood Sucks
. I’d recognize mom’s chicken scratch anywhere.
Briarwood, I wonder where that was?
Heck I didn’t even know where they grew up.

I stared at the picture again and noticed Elizabeth was wearing mom’s charm bracelet. She never left home without it on her wrist and was constantly flicking the charms against each other. Without thinking, I rummaged around in her bag of belongings from the hospital finding the silver bracelet placing it with her other keepsakes.
Why was Elizabeth wearing it?

The box was empty. I couldn’t help but feel cheated. There had to be something else. I flipped it upside down just to be sure and spotted a letter—addressed to a Mr. Henry Maddox--taped to the bottom.
Who was that?
I opened it, peeling back the yellow and blue flowered stationary.

“Dear Henry,

As promised, please pick up Addison at the train station at 9:00 a.m. on Monday.  Don’t worry. She’s easy to take care of. So independent already. If I don’t do this now, then I’ll never do it. Elizabeth will be mad but will thank me in the end. Neither one of us is capable of taking care of ourselves, let alone a child. I’m surprised she’s made it this far. I’m sorry I won’t be around to see her grow up. Please take care of her like you promised. I just can’t deal with this anymore. She doesn’t need to see me like this!

Eve"

But this wasn’t Mom’s handwriting. It was someone else’s.
Elizabeth’s?

***

“Wait right here and watch cartoons while I take a bath, okay?” Eve told me, and I climbed up on the bed and started watching Scooby Doo. She disappeared into the bathroom.  I woke up to the sound of a door slamming. Aunt Lizzie was pacing back and forth across the room, running her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair, mumbling to herself.

“Why did she bring you here?” she barked at me.

“She said we were spending the night here, and she wanted to take a bath,” I said, bursting into tears. Why was she yelling at me?

“Shut up or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

I covered my mouth and tried to stop crying. Where was Mommy?

Aunt Lizzie began talking to herself again. She rattled her pretty charm bracelet with a clanging noise that made me nervous. Then she sat at the end of the bed and began rocking back and forth, hugging herself. I had to find Mom.

When she wasn’t paying attention, I slid off the bed and slipped into the bathroom, sniffling. “Mom?”

I stopped just inside the door. Mom was lying in the bathtub, which seemed to be full of red Kool-Aid. Her eyes were closed.

“Mommy? Eve?” Maybe she was sleeping? I walked over to her and pushed on her shoulder and she slid farther down into the water, stopping right before her nose went under.

I grabbed her hand and shook it, but she didn’t move. A line, like a streak from a bright red marker, was smeared down her wrist. As I let go of her hand, someone yanked me backward. I screamed.

I opened my eyes, and Aunt Lizzie hugged me. “Thank god you’re okay. Now I need you to do something for me, okay.”

“What’s wrong with mommy?”

“I need you to call me mommy.”

“No, you’re not my mom. That would be lying.” She backed me up against the wall, her hand around my neck.

“If you don’t do as I say, then I will personally take you into the city and leave you at the park.”

I couldn’t speak or breathe, but the thought of being alone in the city was enough to make me nod my head.

“Now I’m going to call the police and when they get here, do not say anything. Understand?”

I nodded as I fought back my tears. Why was she doing this? I watched as my Aunt Elizabeth switched out wallets, IDs, and even personal belongings with my mom, but she kept her charm bracelet. I hated that bracelet.

***

“Addison, are you alright?” Sandy knocked on the door, and I dropped the letter on the floor. I was sobbing.
Why hadn’t I remembered that before?
“Addison?” Sandy said louder and tried the door. It was locked. I threw everything back in the wooden box and shoved it under the bed.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” I coughed, and unlocked the door. Sandy reached out to hug me, but I stepped back. A hurt expression passed through her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop crying soon. I’m just…overwhelmed.”

“Honey, you don’t have to stop crying because of me. You take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”

That was a gross understatement. I didn’t want to hear any more of her sympathy. People always pretended to understand even when they didn’t.  It was so fake. “Good night, Sandy.” Shutting the door, I crawled into bed realizing I had been brainwashed for the last eleven years.

***

Aunt Lizzie brought me with her to the morgue. I was forced to stay outside with a police officer. She gave me a warning glance as she disappeared behind swinging black double doors.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” the guy asked, but I refused to answer because I was afraid of what she would do to me. So I sat in a chair and waited.

Seconds later, Liz barreled through the doors and latched onto my hand, pulling me after her down the hall, into a small room off to the side. She shut the door. Then she faced me with a cruel smile. “You know what happens to little girls who lie?” She squeezed my hand.

“I didn’t say anything. I promise.” I tried to pull my hand free.

“They wind up here.” She stepped aside, and pointed to a naked woman on a metal table. “Want to take a closer look?” She lifted me where I could see that the woman had a gaping hole in her stomach. I screamed, but she clamped a hand over my mouth.

“You will call me Eve, or mother. Is that clear?” she said in my ear. I squirmed and tried to get away, but she squeezed me tighter. “Understand, Addison.”

I managed to kick her, and she dropped me. Instead of running, I sat down on the ground and pulled my knees to my chest. I didn’t want a hole in my stomach.

“Do you understand me?” she said, bending down close. Her breath smelled like stale cigarettes.

Lifting my eyes to her, I said, “Yes, mommy.”

***

Sleep was impossible. I tried to shut out the memories, but kept coming back to the night at the hotel and morgue. Nothing else.
Maybe I had made it all up in my mind.

With the onset of daylight, the shadows on the wall disappeared. I sat up. This had to be some sick joke or something. Tears clouded my vision again, but instead of lying back down, I found the bathroom and vomited. My whole life--my past, my mom--was nothing but a lie. There were so many questions that I needed to be answered and no one to ask. Wiping my mouth, I stopped crying and flushed the toilet. The truth hurt worse than watching her die. I washed my face and studied the damage in the mirror. The bruise around my eye had blossomed into a deep purple color, changing to a light brown on the side of my nose.
Great. Now I looked how I felt.
I scrubbed again at my face, wishing the marks would just vanish.

“Would you like breakfast?” Sandy asked from the hall.

“No,” I said, as I opened the door. She was already dressed in her usual dark grey skirt, dark blue blouse, with her mouse brown hair, dull and lifeless, pulled into a tight bun. 
Did she own any colorful clothes, or did they issue the same drab colors to every social worker?

“You can take a shower if you’d like. You should have plenty of time. We don’t have to be at Family Services until 10:00 a.m. Oh, and I think I have some foundation for that bruise.” She disappeared back into her room before I could protest.

Bright light poured through the window in my room, and I pulled the curtains closed.
I didn’t want to know any more about the truth.
I sifted through my bag, searching for something to wear.
Wait, what was I doing?
I never cared about what I wore before. Snatching up my regular attire of jeans, t- shirt, and hooded sweatshirt, I headed back to the bathroom.

“Here I found this. It should help,” Sandy said, meeting me at the door.

“Okay.” I stared at the bottle of tan liquid.
What was I supposed to do with that?
 

“Don’t fret. I’ll show you how to apply it when you’re finished, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I showered, dressed and found her in the living room. She gave me my very first lesson in applying makeup. It wasn’t like Elizabeth had never tried to get me interested in makeup, but I refused to learn. Makeup was for people trying to hide something.

“What do you think?” she asked, stepping away.

I stared at my reflection in the hand-held mirror. My bruise had disappeared, like magic.

“Neat.” She even let me keep the rest of the bottle and some sponges, just in case I needed to touch up.

“Why are we going to Family Services? Doesn’t it take at least 48 hours for the paternity test to be fully completed?” I asked when we were getting into the car to leave.

“Well, Stuart wants to spend more time with you.”

I didn’t buy it.

Sandy made sure we were at the Department of Family Services by 10:00 a.m. on the nose. She checked me in, and I was taken to a small room with a window overlooking the parking lot. As I sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs, I wondered if a judge would rule in favor of Stuart taking me to California without knowing 100% that he was my father. 

A child screamed in the room next to me, and I thought about bolting out the front door at record speed. It irritated me that I had nowhere to go. Only if Elizabeth had given me a heads-up about Stuart.
She did. She told me she called him in the hospital room and I ignored her.

People talking outside the door kept me glued to my seat. As the door opened, I prepared myself for round three with Stuart, but instead Dr. Franklin, my mentor, walked in.

I had first met Dr. Franklin after she’d been arrested for unpaid traffic tickets. The judge made her volunteer at afterschool programs as community service. She came to work at my afterschool program when I was ten.

Now, she sat down in front of me and folded her hands on the scratched wooden table. It had been a solid twenty-four hours since I had last seen her. She came to the hospital two days ago when she found out what happened. There were bags under her hazel eyes, and she was missing the white lab coat she usually wore. I’d almost forgotten she was pregnant. The way her belly protruded, she was probably due any day now. She didn’t need this stress.

At first she didn’t’ say anything, but I knew she was disappointed by the wrinkle in her forehead. “Why don’t you begin by telling me why you ran off?” she asked. I hated the edge in her voice, but then again she had every right to be upset. I had dragged her into a big mess. Something I promised never to do. 

“I didn’t know what else to do. Besides, it’s not like I planned on Elizab…I mean mom dying so soon. I…I thought I had time.”
Should I tell her what I found out? I could trust her, couldn’t I?

She sighed. “I guess I can accept that. What happened to your eye?”

I avoided the question by staring at the table. 

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s your business. You know I’m not going to waste my time trying to pry it out of you. I just wanted to let you know that the results are back.”

My head shot up. “What? How? I thought it took at least 48 hours.”

“I made a few phone calls. I figured you’d want to know the truth as soon as possible.”