The Secret Manuscript

by Edward Mullen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ben had no idea what he was about to uncover. His eyes set sight on the room on the other side of the steel door for the first time. Much to his dismay, it appeared to be just an ordinary room. There were no jewels or stacks of money. The disappointment soon set in, replacing any previous thoughts of discovering riches. However, there was still enough excitement to continue. After all, there had to be a reason why someone went to all the trouble of hiding this room, and Ben was well aware things did not always appear as they seemed.

  The room was about the size of the adjacent bedrooms in the basement. The one distinct difference, aside from it being hidden, was it was completely furnished. It looked like a philosopher’s office. Bookshelves lined two opposing walls, a dark brown leather sofa rested snugly up against the north wall, and a large wooden desk was placed in the centre of the south wall. Ben slowly walked around the room, taking notice of the book titles.

  Although the books were not hidden treasures, they did provide him some comfort. Ben had been an avid collector of books, and since all his books were destroyed in the fire, he was overjoyed to be able to restart his collection.

  As Ben neared the desk, he noticed a strange looking gadget on top of a stack of papers. It was metallic and had strange markings on it. He picked up the object and studied it for a moment, but could not determine what it was. He set it back down and took a seat in the large leather chair. Leaning back, Ben swivelled around taking full view of the secret room.

  What is this place? he asked himself.

  On the table, beneath the gadget, was a stack of papers. The cover page was blank and made no reference to the author’s name or title. Ben picked up the stack and flipped to the first page. As he began reading, the narrative told the tale of a young mother named Anne, and her baby:

  Anne was sixteen, still attending high school, and trying to balance the stress of adolescence and motherhood. The weight of this hardship was overwhelming for her. Although she was trying her best, she was ill-equipped to handle the workload. During the day, she would drop her baby off at a neighbour’s house while she attended school. Being so physically exhausted all the time, Anne found it difficult to focus and often fell asleep during class. As expected, she was failing nearly every course.

  The school sympathized with her and gave her all sorts of breaks. They kept the passing grade at 50%, but drastically reduced her workload. Even then, she failed to maintain a passing average. The school tried a number of options, including assigning make-up exams and making appointments with counsellors, but it was no use. She had missed too many classes and could not get caught up. With great reluctance, the school had no choice but to hold her back a year. Adding to her woes, her life at home was filled with strife.

  Her parents were no longer together and she lived with her dad, Charlie, who worked for the Canadian postal service as a package handler. He hated the job, but at his age, he had no marketable skill sets. He was, in effect, forced into a life of servitude. Every day, he trudged into work and sorted packages in a stuffy warehouse. His physical health was declining concurrently with his mental health. At the end of the work day, he would come home, grab a beer, sit in his favourite chair, and watch TV. Some nights his migraines were so bad he just went to bed. Needless to say, he did not offer much guidance or support for his daughter.

  One day, Anne left school early to come home. She was upset and frustrated with her life. Without saying a word to anyone, she packed a bag and left town — leaving her child behind. It was the mark of yet another poor decision. However, as she explained in the note she had left, she just wanted to escape her current situation and start fresh. She urged her father not to come looking for her and vowed to one day return. She never did.

  Ben became more engrossed in the story, which went on to describe the challenges Anne’s father had with his health. As for the baby, it was put in a foster care facility and never saw his mother or grandfather again.

  Still reading the manuscript, Ben rose from the chair and stretched out on the couch. The story shifted from the point of view of the mother to the young boy in foster care.

  Without proper family support, the boy became withdrawn. He remained mostly to himself through his early years and rarely did he make friends or interact with others. Despite being shy and reserved compared to other children his age, he displayed artistic talent well beyond his years. His teachers would often praise him by saying, “Ben you are very creative.”

  Ben’s heart nearly skipped a beat when he read the line. The story had obvious parallels between his life, but never once did he think it was about him. Since he did not remember many of the early details of his life, he had not made the connection.

  This has to be a coincidence, Ben thought as he scooted to the edge of his seat.

  Once he actually thought about it, the full picture came into scope. Charles must be referring to Charles Gringer — my grandfather.

  Being completely enthralled with the text, Ben continued to read. He breezed through the next nine chapters, which contained incredibly detailed accounts of his childhood. Throughout the chapters, there were several points where the story described events he actually remembered. Any previous doubt had been eliminated; he now knew this was the story of his life. As to where it came from and who wrote it, that was a mystery that had yet to be solved. The strange thing about it though, was the narrative was written in the third person, almost as if it were written by the hand of God or some all-seeing observer.

  He spent the next few hours flipping through the pages at a rapid pace. He was learning so much about himself — where some of his behavioural patterns came from, his commitment issues, and his insecurities. He realized he had the unique advantage of having nearly every detail of his life documented and laid out for him to analyze. Presented in such a manner, it was easy for him to recognize the error of his ways.