The Book Of Firsts

by Portia Moore

  “I’ve been watching you sitting here all by yourself, and I thought a pretty little girl like you would want some company,” he says with a thick southern drawl.

  “No, I’m waiting for someone,” I say to him before turning away. I still feel him behind me. I turn my attention back to my phone to text Blue, asking him for his ETA, when bushy eyebrows plops down across from me in my booth.

  “A lady like you shouldn’t be waiting for some jerk who can’t even show up on time.” He chuckles, but there’s a lace of viciousness underneath his laugh. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Look I’m sorry, but I’m not really in the mood to entertain anyone right now,” I say as politely as I can.

  “I can entertain both of us.” He raises his hand, calling over the waitress. I didn’t want to deal with something like this today. I grab my backpack and stand when he reaches over and grabs my wrist.

  “Come on sweetie, stay for a while,” he insists through clenched teeth. I feel my chest tighten. And the dull headache coming on.

  Red.

  White.

  Green.

  I slowly reach my hand into my jacket pocket and feel the pepper spray resting comfortably in it. I grip it in the palm of my hand.

  “Look, I’m sure you’re a really nice guy but you don’t want to talk to me, I have a lot to deal with already.” My voice is tight. I look around the seedy little diner searching for someone who might intervene. Unfortunately, there’s just an elderly couple looking on nervously, the waitress, and a cook who looks old enough to be my great-grandfather. The good thing about that is if I have to spray this guy in the face, I can make a pretty clean break without getting arrested.

  “Sit down,” he growls. I recognize a glint in his eye that sends a shiver down my spine. I clear my throat and let out a small breath.

  “Do we-we know each other?” I ask, nerves filling up the insides of my stomach. He nods slowly, a bitter grin spreading across his face. I cautiously sit back down, not removing my hand from the mace.

  “I knew I’d find ya Ali,” he says, laughing gleefully. “I almost didn’t recognize you in your disguise. What are you supposed to be, a nice little college student?” he asks, snarling.

  “You have the wrong person. My name isn’t Ali,” I try to explain, feeling my thoughts start to get foggy.

  “Save me the BS that it’s not me who ripped you off for fifteen grand, it was my secret twin sister crap,” he growls. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster.

  “Fifteen grand?” I say in disbelief, my voice trembling.

  “Oh, you forgot all about it huh? That’s okay, how about you come with me so I can refresh your memory.” He lifts his shirt and reveals a gun. My hands are starting to shake. I eye the door and the elderly couple at the other end of the restaurant, their attention now on their appetizer. I swallow hard and nod, starting to rise from my seat. He looks surprised but begins to stand as well, but before he’s on his feet I yank the pepper spray out of my purse and squeeze down on the release hard and directly into his eyes. He howls, grabbing his face.

  “I’m sorry!” I tell him before running from the restaurant. When I’m outside I glance back at the restaurant and through the window see the ketchup guy yelling and flailing around. My hands are still shaking as I pull the keys out of my purse and run to get in my car. As soon as I do I see him running outside, holding his eyes, still screaming profanity. I start the car and pull off as fast as I can.

  My phone starts to ring and I pick up.

  “Hey I’m almost there,” Blue says.

  “This guy just tried to pull a gun on me!” I say, almost out of breath.

  “What the fuck! Are you okay?” he asks urgently.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” I assure him, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m about three blocks away from where we were going to meet. I’ll text you when I make sure he’s not behind me,” I tell him before hanging up.

  After about ten minutes I finally see a late night bar and grill and pull into it, my anxiety finally starting to settle down. I text Blue and let him know where I am. I stay in my car watching as other ones pass, wanting to make sure ketchup guy doesn’t pull in behind me.

  I rest my head on the steering wheel and demand myself not to cry. It’s not like it’s the first time that some strange person swore that they knew me. It’s not even the first time someone confronted me about money I owed them, but it is the first time someone threatened to kill me. I fight the tears in my eyes as well as the urge not to scream. The look in that guy’s eye makes me shudder, to not know what exactly happened. For all I know I probably deserved him shoving a gun in my face. At least if nothing else, it let me know that I’ve made the right decision not heading back to Kam’s. I might not ever be able to go back. I’m too much of a liability. He doesn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this mess I’m in.

  Leaving him will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I know with every fiber in me if I told him the truth, the details, he’d stand by me. He’s so selfless but isn’t that selfish, to drag someone through hell with you because they love you—because you love them?

  Kam has a chance at being someone who can change things. He’s smart and funny and I’m sure he’ll be on his way to Washington soon; just like his dad, he wants to do good and change the world. I won’t let him destroy his career over having a girlfriend who ruins everything around her, who has a past she doesn’t know about. A girlfriend who can ruin him. And as of now has a strange man chasing her over money, wanting to kill her.

  Today is the first step though, the step where hopefully Blue can come through with what he promised. I turn around and see the black Maxima pull up beside me. I had been holding my breath and let it out as Blue climbs out of his car and walks over to mine. I put the window down.

  “Someone’s had an interesting day, huh?” he asks with a wide smile and sarcasm I let him get away with. I let out a short laugh. “It wouldn’t be my life without it huh?” When I get out of the car he pulls me into a short hug, his long lean arms enveloping me. A hug I so desperately need.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” he says, his tone light. But I can see the worry crinkle the corner of his eyes and can only imagine how Kam is feeling.

  “So what happened?” he asks, confusion and relief all over his face. I quickly explain my encounter with the bushy eyebrow man.

  “Shit Megan. What the hell? I’m kind of impressed.” He grins but after I glare at him his expression turns serious.

  “It’s not a joke Blue, it’s my life,” I remind him and he nods.

  “But if you had fifteen grand I’m gonna have to charge you for this.” He smiles, displaying a perfect set of teeth, and I swat his shoulder while cracking a smile.

  “Come on. I got some news for you,” he says, gesturing towards the restaurant.

  We head into the restaurant and the hostess seats us quickly, in a booth towards the back at our request. This place is full of people, mostly high schoolers that have probably come here after a game or before they head to a party. We both sit down and I let out a sigh of relief to have someone here, someone that may have answers.

  “Kam called me,” he says offhandedly, rubbing his silver lip ring. Just hearing his name makes me more anxious.

  “You didn’t tell him you were meeting with me, did you?” I ask, a part of me hoping that he did tell Kam, and that he’s going to storm in and tell me that I’m an idiot for leaving and that whatever is going on I won’t have to do it alone, that we’ll get through this together.

  That’s the selfish part of me.

  “I did what you told me,” he says grimly. “It’s easier to not tell him since Katie’s out of town. If she was around I might have caved,” he admits.

  The waitress heads over and pours us fresh water. Blue orders a BLT and I just ask for scrambled eggs and bacon. I’ve been so nervous I just realized I haven’t eaten anything in hours.

>   “So tell me what happened last night,” I insist, letting out a breath. He shakes his head almost in reluctance.

  “I had just got to the charity dinner. Katie asked me to make a quick appearance on her behalf since was going out of town for one of her friend’s birthday. You and Kam were making your way through the crowd. I told you that I had the file on your parents.” He breaths all this out quickly.

  “When I told you, you freaked out. You said you wanted it right now, and I told you I didn’t have it on me and I could bring it back to you. You were so pissed. I’d never seen you like that before. I went to go have Kam calm you down and before I knew it you had slapped George, like really laid it on him.” He says the last part with a proud laugh.

  I’m not proud though, I’m disgusted and confused. He notices, becoming serious again.

  “You raced out of there after that. Me and Kam looked for you the whole night.” I cover my face with my hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly. He leans across the table.

  “What happened Megan?”

  Tears build in my eyes.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. We’re quiet and I take a deep breath.

  “Sometimes I don’t remember things,” I whisper. He looks at me curiously. I lock my gaze on the table.

  “When I was younger I’d have memory lapses, time losses. Sometimes after them I’d find out I did bad things.” I shake my head in frustration. “It hadn’t happened in so long…but yesterday it happened again.” I’m afraid to look at him but he’s not looking at me with pity, but with empathy.

  “Have you told Kam?” he asks after a sigh. I shake my head.

  “I was hoping I was past it,” I tell him, fighting tears. He nods slightly. A stretch of silence passes between us and he finally pulls out a laptop and slides in the booth beside me.

  “So do you want to start with the good news or the bad news?” His tone is casual as he starts typing stuff into the machine.

  “Good. Please,” I tell him softly.

  “So the good news is, we were able to find a lot out for someone who basically didn’t exist before the age of five,” he explains, his eyes glued to the screen. My body is buzzing. I’ve never been so anxious but hesitant in my entire life.

  “You found out who my parents are?” I ask, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice.

  “Yeah,” he tells me with a small smile.

  I nod casually, but in reality I want to jump off this seat and hug him. I want to laugh and cry and scream. He’s found them—my past! A part of me, what’s missing hopefully an answer.

  “Then what was the bad news?” I ask cautiously. I notice my hands starting to shake and Blue takes one and squeezes it.

  “You know, you think me and you are a lot alike but we’re not.”

  I look at him bewildered.

  “I wouldn’t want to know who my parents are.” His tone is more serious than I’ve ever heard him. “My dad, at least.”

  “Well our circumstances are a little different,” I say.

  He nods.

  “For me it’s not so much who they are but where I came from. If I knew something about them, I’m hoping it’ll reveal more about me,” I try to explain.

  “I respect that,” he says, letting go of my hand and clicking on an icon labeled T-3 on the screen.

  “This is your birth certificate,” he tells me as the page fills the screen. I let out a small breath as my eyes scan it. I cover my mouth, feeling a combination of happiness and despair.

  “Isabella Rice,” I mutter my mother’s name. I feel a weak smile spread across my face.

  “Clayton Rice,” I say, realizing that they were married. My parents were together. She didn’t just have a baby by some guy she didn’t know. They weren’t desperate teen parents. My eyes move to their ages; my mom was twenty-nine and my dad was thirty-two.

  “I wasn’t born in Indiana?” I hear myself say to no one in particular, seeing that I was born in some town called Venitan in Michigan. I sit for a moment collecting my thoughts and thinking of the irony of us being in Michigan right now. In less than one minute I’ve found out more about myself than I’ve ever known in my entire lifetime. Then the euphoria is gone and the realization crashes down on me like a truckload of bricks. If my parents were married, why would they give me up? How did I end up alone in the system?

  “A-are they alive?” I ask, almost afraid to look at Blue. I’m not sure which of his answers would be worse. When his eyes cast downwards I already know the answer.

  “I couldn’t find anything on your father but your mother passed away a few months before you were put in the system,” he says softly. I shed a tear for the mom I never knew. I’ve cried a million times for her when I was younger but these tears are different, they’re more sincere because now I know that she died and didn’t abandon me. I wish Blue was able to find out more information about my father.

  “Do you know how it happened?” I ask. He nods but it’s slow, almost an eternity. And for a minute the thought crosses my mind that I don’t want to know what happened, maybe it’d be too much. What if something terrible happened to her, something that would haunt my thoughts every time I think of her? Or what if it’s nothing? Well, dying isn’t nothing but was it something unexpected like a car crash? Or had she died after battling some tragic illness? I finally tell myself to stop being a wuss.

  “It was a gunshot wound,” he says. I let out a deep breath.

  “The weird thing is, it took some digging to find out how she died. It wasn’t in the newspapers, I couldn’t find an obituary…it was almost as if someone didn’t want it publicly known that’s how it happened,” he explains, bewildered.

  “How did you find out?” I ask and he gives me a look that says Hello, it’s me!

  “Oh I forgot you’re the god of hackers or something, right?” I ask with a smirk and he gives me two thumbs up. I’m thankful for the small moment to ease the tension.

  “What about my father?”

  “Well, he’s not dead, but he might as well be. I couldn’t find any records on him past that year either. No utility bills, no bank accounts, not even a renewed driver’s license. It’s like he vanished into thin air,” he explains.

  “So my mother’s dead and my father pretty much doesn’t exist. You said there was good news?” I add the last part with a dry chuckle.

  “Yeah, sort of,” he says hesitantly, pulling up another file on his computer.

  “You have three siblings. Two sisters and a brother,” he says and I’m shocked as he pulls up a driver’s license, and my heart begins to pound against my chest. That stuns me.

  “Wow.”

  For some reason I never really imagined myself having sisters, or a brother for that matter. In my own made-up backstory I was an only child who lost my parents tragically.

  “This is Olivia, your youngest sister.” He zooms in on the picture and my eyes widen. She has red hair past her shoulder but her roots and eyebrows are dark like mine, dark colored eyes, I can’t make out. They’re tired, she’s smiling in her mugs hot but sadness reeks off of her.

  “She’s been busted a few times for credit card fraud and petty theft. Right now she’s housed in Central Michigan Corrections,” he explains, and my heart sinks.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be out in six months,” he says cheerfully. He pulls up another picture of a woman—she’s beautiful. She has hair the color of a penny and it’s in a ninja bun on the top of her head. It says her eyes are hazel and she was born four years before me. Her name is Mariah. I notice her last name is different from my parents.

  “She was the oldest of you guys. Her story is a little more lighthearted than your baby sis. No jail stints, not even a parking ticket. She has a bachelor’s in Psychology from the University of Wisconsin, owns a house in Cleveland, married two years ago to a carpenter from North Dakota where they reside with their one-year-old daughter Bella,” he explains, and I look at him impressed.r />
  “Wow, you were able to find all of that out?”

  “Yeah, but once I found her name and date of birth I found most of the rest through LinkedIn and Facebook,” he admits with a wry smile. I roll my eyes.

  “Can you pull up her page?” I ask.

  “Already done!” he adds and in less than a few seconds her page is on full display. I scroll through her pictures. She has tons of friends. The past few years of her life is perfectly documented on the website. I see her graduation photos, pictures of her on various birthdays, one in Vegas, dozens of pictures hanging out with friends, her wedding photos. Her husband is handsome in a nerdy kind of way. The next picture is of her, her husband, and daughter who looks just like him.

  She looks happy, fulfilled, normal—and for a moment I’m envious of her. I wonder how she got out without being emotionally screwed up? Obviously me and Olivia were scathed, but she seems just peachy. I continue to look through the page and I see one labeled “lunch with the ‘rents.” There’s a man and woman in their late sixties sitting at some sort of café with big happy smiles. I stare at it.

  “Mariah was adopted. Which was lucky for her since she was almost nine when she went into the system,” Blue explains, noticing my lingering stare.

  “Good for her,” I mutter quietly, sliding the laptop more in his direction.

  I hate myself for being angry with her, jealous that she ended up in a good home with nice parents that let her live her life without any complications. That she made it through without being affected. I hate myself that I blame her for not looking for me and my newfound kindred spirit Olivia. I wonder what hell she went through to put her on the path that landed her in jail numerous times. I bet Mariah remembers our parents. She didn’t grow up without a clue of who she was or where she came from. I realize I’m being ridiculous because if just one of us was able to have a normal and happy life then that was great.