by Jane Charles
Love,
Kelsey,
Your Mom
I’m guessing that pink box she took is the one on the shelf in the attic. Why didn’t Kelsey still have it? She was going to keep it with her always. Did something happen to change that? Did something happen to her?
Suddenly panic washes through me. Is Kelsey dead? Is that why Mom has the box? Did Brandy meet her mother?
I shake the thoughts away. This is silly. There could be a logical reason why the box is here.
Wait! My mom is adopted, not that she ever talks about it, but what if she was Brandy once?
I shake the thought away and move on to the next letter.
Fourteen
I still haven’t learned any more about Brandy or Kelsey and certainly not enough to figure out who they are. This first stack of letters I’d taken from the pink box just talked about high school. It’s more of a school for artists and sounds like a boarding school since they live in dorms. She even has her own room. All the students do. Lucky Kelsey doesn’t have to share her space with anyone. Certainly not a younger sister who got into her stuff.
She has a few friends, but talks about Kate and Christian the most, because they were working on a music project. Then there is Ryan who likes to take pictures, and they got in trouble once because he was taking pictures of her pregnant belly. She’s also mentioned playing in the orchestra for the musicals and some of her favorite performers are Zach and Alyssa. She also mentions a Zoe, who has the most beautiful voice Kelsey had ever heard. I didn’t realize that all these people were in the class ahead of her until she mentions their graduation. She hates to see them go and Baxter, the high school, won’t be the same.
Well, there is one person Kelsey can’t wait to see leave, Alex the Douche. He’s hated her and given her a hard time since she first got there. Giving her shit for giving up Brandy, telling her she’s selfish.
I don’t know what Alex’s deal is, but what the hell did he expect her to do?
During her senior year, Kelsey practically kept to herself. She mentions a few friends, Lizzy and Brit, but that’s all. They are in the music program with her, but she doesn’t talk about them like she did Ryan, Christian, Zach or Kate.
After I finish the last one, I grab my notepad. These are the things I’m going to look up as soon as I have my iPad back: Kelsey Fry, Baxter, Brandy, and Brandon Lange. It isn’t much, but hopefully one of those searches will lead me to more information about who Kelsey and Brandy really are. Or, at least why Mom and Dad have the pink box.
Pounding at the front door nearly makes me jump from the bed, my heart racing. I shove the envelope box under my bed and hurry downstairs. Who the hell is here?
I glance out the window and blow out a sigh of relief and open the door.
“Happy Birthday!” Peyton holds up a bag.
“Why aren’t you in school?”
She gives me a strange look. “You aren’t the only one who was suspended for three days.” Peyton comes in without me inviting her, which isn’t really a surprise. When Mom and Dad aren’t mad, she usually lives here.
“I’m grounded. I’m not supposed to even talk to you.”
“They’re still mad about competition, huh?” She waltzes into the kitchen and I follow.
“More livid about me leaving. They were waiting on my bed when I got home.”
“Shit!” She plops the bag down on the counter. “That’s why your mom answered my text that I shouldn’t call or come over until the next century.”
My eyes blink open. “She said that?”
Peyton shrugged. “Not exactly. Just that it was best if we didn’t spend any time together this year.”
“That isn’t exactly the next century. We have a decade to get through before that.” I laugh.
“I came over yesterday, but then I saw your dad, so I thought I’d better go home.”
“He got the flu.”
Her eyes widen. “He isn’t here now, is he?” she whispers.
“No. Everybody’s gone until school is out.”
“Great!” She pulls a quart of Gold Medal Ribbon from the bag. “Get spoons and we’ll watch TV or something.”
“No TV. No Computers. Nothing,” I tell her and then explain how everything has been taken away, and my full punishment.
“You’ve been cleaning since Friday?” she cries as if horrified. I doubt Peyton has ever had to clean a thing in her life. Her family employs like four servants.
“It wasn’t so bad, and I’m done.”
“So, what have you been doing?” She sinks a spoon into the ice cream.
I bite my upper lip. Do I tell her? Peyton does know how to keep a secret. “I’ll tell ya in a sec. Gotta toss towels in the dryer.” I won’t have anything to bring up from the basement if I leave the towels in the washer.
Peyton is sitting on the counter eating ice cream when I come back up. The key is in my pocket and I hope I get a chance to return it before everybody gets home. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I grab another spoon and some paper towels as Peyton gets the ice cream. She follows me up to my room, and I get out the letters. “I found these in the attic.”
“What are they?”
“Letters.” Then I tell her about the first ones, the ones I didn’t bring down. “There are a bunch more up there, but I’m being careful to only take some at a time. I hope I can figure out who Kelsey is eventually.”
“A mystery!” Peyton grins. “What fun!”
“It is!” I’ve become so involved in this Kelsey’s life that I have to know more.
“Can I read them?”
“Sure!” I take the ice cream and settle back against my headboard as she starts reading. “Keep them in order. They have to go back the same way they came out.”
Peyton makes a few comments between eating ice cream and reading. Then her eyes go wide. “Christian plays the sax.”
“So.”
“What if it’s Christian Sucato? Wouldn’t that be so cool?”
I just laugh at her. The chances of Kelsey’s Christian and the Christian who Peyton and I have been crushing on being the same guy are slim to none, but leave it to my friend to make that leap. She’s probably already decided they are the same person.
Peyton sighs as she puts the last letter into the envelope. “There are more upstairs.”
“Dozens.”
“Well, let’s go get them.”
I glance at the clock and sit up. “Shit! Mom is going to be home with my brother and sister in half an hour.”
Peyton jumps from the bed. “Crap. I’ve got to get out of here.”
We shove the letters back in the envelope box and hurry to the kitchen to get rid of the evidence of ice cream and a visitor.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to read more.”
“No!” I yell at her as she’s headed for the door. “There’s only a half day of school and I think Mom took the day off.”
“Crap. Well, let me know when you are home alone again. I need to read more.”
“I’ll bring them to school next week, if I can’t see you before.”
“Perfect.”
I have just enough time to return the read letters to the box, get another stack and return the key before Mom gets home. She’s waiting in the kitchen when I come up from the basement and I’m so glad I did the laundry because I have the basket full of freshly laundered and folded towels and washrags, and only have a little bit of guilt about how sneaky I’m being.
Okay, a lot of guilt, but she’s the one that drove me to it.
“Did you and Peyton have fun today?”
Crap! How did she know? I know I have to have that deer in headlights look and nothing is coming to me. “Wh…what do you mean?” I finally ask slowly.
“You should have buried the pint of ice cream a little deeper in the garbage.”
Shit! Who looks in the fucking garbage for evidence of a crime?
“She came over. I didn’t ask. Really
. But, she was here, I had all my work done…”
Mom just laughs. “You’re a good kid, Kelsey. You’ve also worked hard getting this house cleaned.” She nods to the laundry. “I didn’t even ask you to do that.”
My face heats. I did it as a cover for my crime, not that I’m going to tell her that.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
Excitement shoots through me. “I get my phone back?”
“No!”
“But you just said I learned my lesson.”
“Which you will quickly unlearn if I give you back everything I took away. Punishment still stands, but I won’t add to it because you broke the rules and spent time with Peyton today.”
“Thanks!” I guess. So much for freedom. Had it for about a millisecond before it was snatched away again.
“Put those away.” She nods to the laundry. “Then come back downstairs. I picked your homework up from school. Your assignments for yesterday, today and tomorrow are there. I suggest you work on it until dinner is ready.”
“But it’s my birthday,” I whine. And I have letters to read, not that I dare take them out of hiding while she’s at home. “Can’t I work on it tomorrow?”
“You know the rules, Madison. Homework before anything else.”
“I don’t go back to school until Monday, almost a week.”
Mom just lifts an eyebrow and gives that look. She’s not going to budge.
“Fine!” Maybe there isn’t so much. I mean, how much can there be for two and a half days of school?
Fifteen
Were the teachers afraid we wouldn’t have anything to do over the long Thanksgiving weekend? Geez, there are a ton of things to do for every class. Do I do the stuff I hate first and save the easy assignments for last? Or, do I get the easy stuff out of the way first? But do I really want to spend the weekend on math and science?
So much for the best birthday ever!
But, I may have just found the perfect reason to lift the computer ban, and if I works out that I get my iPad back, all the better. “Mom,” I call into the kitchen.
“Yes?” she calls back.
“I have two papers I need to write. One for English and another for history.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll need the computer and the internet.”
There is silence and I wait, even crossing my fingers.
“When are they due?” she finally asks.
Crap! “December 23rd. Right before break.”
“You’ll have your stuff back in a week. Work on something else.”
I get up from the table. “But you are the one who insists on homework first and all that.”
Mom narrows her eyes on me. “You aren’t getting around me that easy. Now, go do the math you’re avoiding.”
The woman may not understand me, but she does know my hatred for math. If someone could explain when I’ll use trigonometry in my life, I might enjoy it more, but that hasn’t been answered yet.
After dinner I worked on my homework some more and I’ll be working on it tomorrow and probably on Thanksgiving. Not one of the assignments due on Monday requires the computer or the internet, which bums me out. I’d hoped that I could sneak in searches about Kelsey Fry, Brandon Lange and Baxter when nobody was looking. I don’t think I’ll get a chance until school. I’ve already decided that I’m going in early so I can use the library computers.
Monday is going to take forever to get here. Worse, those letters are sitting, waiting to be read, but Mom and Dad are going to be home. Who knows when I’ll get to read more? It might not be until next year at this rate, and that really, really sucks!
Sixteen
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the parade?” Mom asks as she stops in my room.
“Mom, it’s not even light out yet,” I whine. She knows I hate parades and circuses and all of that stuff. Plus, the crowds downtown are going to be horrible. And, it’s cold.
“We want good seats so we need to be there early.”
I glance at the clock and groan. It’s only six in the morning.
“It’s a chance to be free for a bit,” she tries to tempt me.
I’d rather be locked up in solitary than be at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. “I’ll just stay here and hope for time off for good behavior.”
Mom just shakes her head and frowns as if disappointed. She should have known I didn’t want to go. I didn’t go the last two years.
“Turkey is ready to go. Put it in the oven at one if we aren’t back yet. Instructions are on the counter.”
“Sure thing.” They won’t be back in time. They never are. Thank goodness I’m staying back so we can eat dinner at a decent time.
Plus, I’ll have the house to myself for the next seven hours at least.
As soon as they are gone, I hop out of bed and grab the letters. To hell with homework and turkey. I’ve got letters to read.
The first one I read is from her first week of college. Kelsey is studying music and majoring in education. She wants to teach piano and voice. She has nothing in common with her roommate, but they get along okay. I think it’s funny that Kelsey pukes every time she has to perform. I used to feel like I was going to throw up too, but not so much anymore. Maybe if Mrs. Dosek was in the audience I might feel sick.
Pretty much her freshman year of college was uneventful.
For her sophomore year, Kelsey gets an apartment, where she once again has a bedroom to herself. She also has her own bathroom. I totally get that. I have to sometimes share one with a gross brother and a sister who doesn’t put away hair products or makeup. Except it has been put away since I cleaned in there. All I had to do was toss her crap in the garbage and she started putting it away, but not after complaining to Mom first, who was for once on my side.
Kelsey still has to share the apartment with others. She likes Mary, but can’t stand the other two, Tiffany and Shelby. They do sound like real pieces of work, but it’s not like Kelsey can’t get away from them. She does have her own space. Besides, it doesn’t sound like she has time to spend it with anyone. A full load of classes, private piano lessons and working in the bookstore for extra cash. But, despite it all, Kelsey’s found time to write to Brandy. Some of the letters were on Brandy’s birthday, and holidays, when she’s thinking about the little girl she gave up. Other letters were prompted because something happened that reminded her or had her wondering what Brandy was doing at a certain age. Like the little girl being taken into the daycare at the university, carrying a teddy bear. Did Brandy ever have a teddy bear? All kids need a teddy bear.
Then there was the little girl in the park on a bike. It was pink with streamers coming from the handlebars, and she was constantly ringing the bell as a warning before she almost ran over someone walking. She must have just got her training wheels off. She rode without falling over but still had trouble controlling the bike enough to keep from injuring others.
Sometimes Kelsey just wrote because Brandy was on her mind.
Brandy is lucky. Even if she doesn’t know it yet, she had a mom who loved her. Kelsey didn’t just give her kid away and get on with life. She gave the physical baby away, but held onto her kid.
I wonder if I’ll ever meet my mom. Did she love me like that, or did she just give me up to get rid of a bad mistake?
I’m kind of envious of Brandy because she has two moms that love her. Well, I’m assuming the mom who adopted her loves her. Kelsey certainly made sure her daughter had loving parents.
Brandy,
It’s your sixth birthday. Or, yesterday was your sixth birthday. I didn’t get a chance to write yesterday because some crazy things happened. It all started with a tattoo. For the past year I’ve wanted to have your foot, from the old birth certificate, tattooed on me. I’d been saving every penny I could to pay for it. Well, the place I was going to have it done, Reeds, was holding auditions for new artists. They have a reality TV show that is really popular. I think it has more
to do with the Reeds being really hot, than the awesome tattoos. But, that is beside the point. Because it was cheaper, I agreed to go with one of the people auditioning, which was for the best. I would have probably gone all fan girl if I’d gotten a Reed to do my tat. Well, guess who did my tat? Alex Douche Dosek!
Alex the Douche is Alex Dosek? As in the Mr. Dosek to the woman I need to teach me piano?
Not possible.
Is it?
How many Doseks can there be out there?
And, the guy with Mrs. Dosek did have tattooed arms.
I almost walked out. I mean, I hated this guy with a passion. But, it was important that I got your tattoo on your birthday, so I gave in and let him do it. Best decision of my life. Not only did he give me the foot, but your hand, right over my heart, and he connected the two with a line of music notes in the shape of your body, just like you laid against me right after you were born. Your name is there, and Brandon’s. It’s the most perfect tattoo in the world.
After he was done, he got me to go back to his place for a Thanksgiving meal.
Thanksgiving? Brandy’s birthday is at the end of November, like mine?
I know it’s just a coincidence. Thousands of people have birthdays this time of year, though I wouldn’t mind being Brandy.
At least I finally have a timeline. Kelsey’s never linked a birthday with any other event. Hell, none of the letters are dated, so it’s guesswork of when they were written unless Kelsey is talking about a holiday, or something like graduation, which usually happens in May or June.
Alex kept in touch with the guys from high school and shares a house with Christian, Ryan, Zach, Sean and Dylan. I was there all night just talking to them. It was great and so good to see them.
I hope you had a wonderful birthday! I can’t believe it’s been six years and a day since I last held you. Only twelve more years and I’ll be able to meet you if you want to meet me, and I so hope you do. I’m living for the day when I finally get to see my little girl again, even though she will be all grown up.
