by Tina Saxon
She takes out the brownies that look as good as they smell. I might enjoy my broken-heart status if she is going to feed me chocolate. I was more irritated than hurt about the Mike thing. I was mad at my supposedly best friend, Maddie, for talking to Mike. My mom places a brownie in front of me and I take one bite and forget all about Mike and Maddie. I guess this is what you do to get over dumb boyfriends and friends… chocolate. Yum.
My mom starts to clean up the plates and the mess she made baking the brownies when we hear a noise at the front door. The mailman’s probably dropping something off. My mom is addicted to Amazon. We both move to the living room to check it out. She tells me to stay back, so I step behind the door.
“Hi, can I help you?” my mom asks as she opens the front door. There’s a small window where I’m standing, but I can’t see the man. I don’t hear him say anything.
BANG!
I cover my ears, watching my mom fall backward. She’s lying lifeless on the floor beside the door, a bullet right between her eyes.
NO!
NO!
NO!
I am trying my hardest not to scream, covering my mouth to stifle any sounds. I have to keep quiet. I don’t want to die, but I want to help my mom. I’m silent, pleading with God. Please let her be alive. I watch the man walk away through the window. He turns around and looks back. I see his face before he gets into the car. It’s a black sedan with tinted windows. I look at the license plate from the window.
I have to remember it.
I have to remember it.
I have to remember it.
He drives off and I run to my mom.
I scream over and over. She’s not moving. I hear sirens in the distance.
“Mom, please stay with me! Help is on the way! Please don’t leave me!” I am crying hysterically, holding my mom. There is no way I am going to let her go.
* * *
My mom is dead. I don’t have anyone. The whole last two weeks are a blur. I don’t want to talk to anyone. My grandma and grandpa came to help with my mom’s funeral and stay with me. I stay in my room. I don’t want to see anyone. My life is over. The first couple days there were cops coming and going. I told them what happened over and over. It’s like they don’t believe me. I gave them the license plate number of the car. It is a permanent image in my head that I can’t forget. The next couple days there was a lady who wanted to talk to me. She told me that she could help me. Help me understand and cope with the loss of my mother. I definitely don’t want to talk to her. They can’t make me talk.
A couple times when the police returned, I would listen to see if they had found the man. Instead I’d hear them talk about a safety deposit box and a will. Then I shut my door quietly and return to curl up on my bed. I have nightmares every night and wake up screaming for my mom. My grandparents don’t know how to help me. They have also lost their daughter. At least they don’t have the whole murder etched in their mind like a constant movie playing over and over. I want this whole thing to go away, to wake up and this have been a horrible nightmare. Unfortunately for me, this nightmare is my life.
Today the lady who wants me to talk came over again. I still don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything. Why won’t everyone leave me alone?
“Addison, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but you will need to talk to someone soon,” she said, looking at me with soft eyes. The woman is really trying to help me, but I still don’t want to talk. “Do you know an Amy Mason?” she asks.
I nod my head. Amy was my aunt on my dad’s side. I haven’t seen her in years. Why is she asking me that?
“Your mom has a will that named Amy as your legal guardian if something was to happen to her,” she explains. “She is on her way here right now. I want you to know what is going to happen. I don’t know any of her plans other than she is coming here. I’m going to give Amy some names of doctors in Dallas who I know can help you.”
What? Why would she give her names of doctors in Dallas? I don’t understand. Why did my mom want me to go with Aunt Amy instead of my grandparents? I mean, I know they are old, but I haven’t seen Amy in years. I don’t know her that well. The only thing we share is our last name. I have so many questions, but I don’t want to talk to this lady. She has no idea what I’m going through.
“Why?” That’s all I could muster.
“Addison, I wish I had more answers for you. I can’t imagine the tragedy that you have had to live through, but I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can call me. I’ll leave my card on your dresser.” She turns around and gently places her contact information on my dresser then leaves the room.
After a couple hours I hear voices in the living room again. It’s probably another person bringing us food. Why is everyone bringing us food? It’s so weird. I don’t care as long as they don’t want to talk to me. This time there is a knock on my door.
“Addison,” a sweet voice I’ve heard before but can’t place calls my name. “Addison, can I please come in? It’s Amy.”
No, you cannot come in. No, you cannot take me away. No, I don’t want to talk. If I wanted to talk, that is exactly what I’d say, but instead I stay quiet. The door slowly opens. Well, so much for leaving me alone. Amy walks in and sits on my bed, quietly watching me. She has tears in her eyes.
“Hi, sweetie,” she whispers. She brushes my hair with her hand and doesn’t say another word. We sit there, both crying, for what feels like hours. I finally collapse in her arms. Her warm body holds me, stroking my hair.
“Shh… sweet girl. It’ll be alright,” she whispers in my ear.
I end up falling asleep in her arms as she rocks me back and forth. I can’t explain it, but she makes everything feel like it’s going to be okay. She doesn’t expect me to talk. She comforts me. Like my mom would’ve done.
The next morning I wake up from a dreamless night—the first time since my mom died. Amy isn’t in my room. My stomach growls and I know I need to get something to eat. I walk out to the kitchen and find Amy and my grandparents at the kitchen table. They are in deep discussion and don’t notice me walk in. I wonder if I can slip in, grab something, and get back to my room without anyone seeing me. I try my hardest to walk softly, but then I hear, “I’m taking her back to Dallas in a couple days. I’ve already talked to the school in my city to enroll her.”
I freeze. Reality sets in.
“What did you say?” I scream. “I can’t leave my friends, my house, my school.” My mom. I know she’s gone, but this is our home. I can’t leave.
“Sweetie,” Amy says, standing up.
“No!” I cry out. “Why are you here? Why did my mom leave me to you? I’m sure I can stay here with one of my friends!” I try to reason. I mean, I’m sure someone would take me in. I have a ton of friends, all who will hate seeing me leave.
Amy continues walking toward me and grabs me in her arms, holding me tightly again. “Addison, I don’t know why your mom wanted you to be with me, but I would love to take you home with me. You’ve always been so special to me and the only niece that I have,” she explains. She brushes her fingers through my hair again. I don’t have enough energy to fight with her. My life died two weeks ago anyway. Who cares where I go? My dad left me. My mom left me. Nobody wants me but my aunt.
Two days later we’re packed and driving to Dallas, Texas. I am about to begin my new life.
* * *
“Hi, my name’s Sydney,” the girl who lives across the street from my aunt says to me as we’re unpacking my bags from the car.
I stare at her. I don’t want friends so I walk into the house. Every day Sydney comes to the door asking if I am home. She’s a very persistent girl, but I’m not ready for friends.
After a couple weeks of hearing her at the door, I finally give in. After that we become inseparable.
7 Years ago
I’m so excited! I just turned sixteen and I am getting my driver’s license. My aunt is trying
to find my birth certificate so I can go and take my test. She called me earlier and told me she got it out of the safe deposit box that my mom had, which then was given to Amy. I still have no idea what’s in it. Whenever I ask her, she says important documents… I guess things like my birth certificate. My cell phone rings and I see it’s Amy.
“Hi, Amy! Are you almost home?” I ask, anxiously. Not that we are going today to get my license, I just want to know I have everything ready to go.
“Hey, sweetie, I’m almost home. Don’t make plans tonight. We need to talk,” she says. Her tone worries me. She should be happier knowing she isn’t going to have to drive me around everywhere now.
“What’s wrong, Amy?” I ask nervously.
“Nothing. Just no plans tonight. I’ll explain everything later. Love you.” With that, she hangs up.
Hmm… I wonder what that could be about. Then I have a thought: maybe she is getting me a car! She’s trying to trick me. I bet that’s it. It has to be. I dance around the house. Okay, I need to act excited when she tells me so she doesn’t know that I figured it out. I practice my surprise face in the mirror.
Amy walks in the door about a half hour later. I can’t contain my excitement so I run and give her a huge hug.
“What was that for?” she laughs.
“Oh, nothing. For being the best aunt ever,” I reply with the biggest smile on my face.
“Wow. Thanks. I think you’re the best niece, also. And remember I love you very much.” Her reply is definitely not as enthusiastic as I expect.
She walks to the couch and sits down. “Come have a seat with me, Addison.”
My original thought of her giving me a car is starting to vanish. Her voice is very serious. I walk over and take a seat right next to her. She grabs my hands and holds them in hers. Looking at me, she says, “We need to talk.”
At that point my excitement dies because I am positive I’m not getting a car. In fact, it sounds like I’m not going to like what our talk is going to be about. I stare at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything. After what seems like forever, she begins.
“I knew this day would come. You’ve come so far since your mother’s death. You’ve learned to move on with your life. But there are so many things that you don’t know. Things about your mom. Your dad. Me. Please understand that everything that we did, we did it for your safety. And I hope that you will one day see it that way.”
I can’t speak. I’m afraid of what’s about to be dropped in my lap. My world crumbled once, I don’t know if I can live through it again. Amy continues to hold my hands.
“I love you like a daughter. You have brightened my world and taught me so much along the way. I have dreaded this from the first day I brought you back with me, but it’s time you know the truth.” She sighs. “Addison… I’m not your aunt. Your mom was my best friend from the time we were five all the way up to when we were roommates in college.”
Wait. What? How could that be? I have her last name. If she’s not my dad’s sister, why do I have her last name?
“I can see the wheels turning in that analytical head of yours. Yes, you have my last name. Before I explain that, let’s start from the beginning. Your mom and dad did meet in Mexico and had a whirlwind affair. Your mom loved your dad very much, just as your dad loved your mom very much. But… your dad was a very dangerous man. Once your mom found out she was pregnant, she left him. She didn’t want to raise a child in his world. She told him that she didn’t want to live that way, so he let her go. When she had you, she was afraid he would someday find out about you. So we did a closed adoption and I adopted you so no one would ever know your mom had a child. I was never going to raise you, but it was a way to keep you safe. You would have my name on your birth certificate. She had power of attorney, so she was considered your guardian. Of course, she had planned on having this conversation with you herself when you were old enough.”
I couldn’t move. My whole life had been a lie up till this point. There is no fairytale, just made up stories.
“Your mom told me about your dad but never gave me his name or any information about him. I thought it was better that way. She told me that if anything ever happened to her, that I should take you and raise you. I promised her I would. But I prayed everyday that wouldn’t happen. That I wouldn’t need to keep that promise. At first, your mom was very strict about where you went, what you did. But as the years went on, she relaxed. Enjoyed her life with you. Then I received the phone call. The one that I hoped I’d never receive. My best friend had been murdered, and I needed to come pick you up.” Crying now, Amy still holds my hands tightly.
I don’t know what to say. I’m in shock. I didn’t think anything in my life would shock me again. Boy, was I wrong. How many times can someone’s heart be shattered before it can’t be mended again?
I get up to walk out of the house with Amy following. “Please, let me go. I need time to process this,” I beg.
“Addison. Sweetie, I’ll let you go but please come home tonight. Just remember that I love you with everything I am. You have been through more in your young age of sixteen than most people have ever had to endure their entire life. You will get through this like I know you can. You are the strongest person I know.”
I walk out the door without a backward glance and call Sydney.
“Hey, girl!” answers Sydney.
Silence.
“Addie? Are you there?”
My voice catches with my sobs.
“I’m on my way.” Sydney knows I need her. If anyone could get me through this fucked up mess, it’s her.
Chapter Four
Present Day
TEARS ROLL DOWN my face as I think back to that day. Devastated doesn’t even come close to how I felt. I couldn’t believe everyone had lied to me. Trust was ripped from me and tossed out that day. It had been years before I was able to trust anyone. Except for Syd. She never lied to me, even if I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. I remember that night when she came and picked me up. We drove out to the country and lay on the hood of her car, looking up to the stars. She listened without ever talking, let me cry, shout, and then cry some more. We ended up pulling some blankets out of her car and fell asleep under those very stars. Sydney wrapped me in her arms and held me.
When we woke up the next morning, Sydney decided it was her time to talk and my time to listen.
“Addie, I love you. You came into my life and I never understood pain until I met you. We were so young when we met. I learned there are horrible things that happen to good people, way more than the Boogieman or monsters under my bed. I can’t imagine seeing the things that you have seen. But I also see the love for you in Amy’s eyes. She is always there for you. She is the most patient person I have ever met. Sometimes I wish my mom was like her.” She giggled as she wiped away her tears. “I love her for loving you so much. She provided a way for you to regain your strength and become who you are today.”
I knew what she was saying was all true, but I didn’t know if I could ever trust Amy again.
Sydney continued. “What you just learned sucks! I hate this for you, but after knowing how your mother was killed and if whoever the heck did it knew about you, I don’t want to imagine what would have happened. I’m being a little selfish here, but if it means that you’re here today because of some secrets, then I can’t say I’m upset with Amy.”
We talked for a long time. Eventually I went home. Amy and I both ended up going to therapy to work out everything that had happened. I think I’ve spent half my life in therapy. It took time, but in the end, I know that the secrets kept from me were necessary.
I’d become mad at the world for my life and at my mom who fell in love with the wrong man—the same man who was ultimately the reason her life had been taken. I was mad at Amy for hiding secrets. The anger wouldn’t go away. Amy felt I needed a release for that anger so she signed me up for Tae Kwon Do. She thought I would also feel a little better
being able to defend myself, knowing that deep down I feared someday my father might find out about me.
I immediately fell in love with Tae Kwon Do. I loved the control, the movement, the power. Sparring was the best part. I loved knowing that I had strength within me. Within two years, I had received my first black belt. I continued throughout college, going all the way to my third-degree black belt. In high school I decided I wanted to study criminology. I don’t know if it was a result of watching my mom being murdered or that her case was unsolved, but I was always extremely observant after that. I would drive Amy crazy. A man would walk by who we would both look at and I’d always ask her to describe him. We would make it a game. She would call me Detective Addison. I was intrigued by details and surroundings.
With my newfound interest in law enforcement, Amy thought it might be a good idea to teach me how to shoot a gun. She always had a gun stashed in her nightstand; we lived in Texas so it wasn’t an uncommon thing. People here love their guns.
The first time Amy took me to the shooting range, I was hesitant. It felt wrong holding a gun. They held so much power: the power of life and death. I’d been up close and personal with that power. I didn’t know if I could do it. My hands were shaking so hard, I didn’t hit the target after going through the first magazine. A man standing next to us took interest in my shooting, probably wondering why the hell I was holding a gun. Turns out he was a police officer. Officer Ted Smith. He was extremely kind and helped calm my nerves. He showed me how to stand and hold the gun. When I hit the target the first time, I jumped up and down. Then Officer Ted Smith had to teach me how to put my gun down and not point it at anything other than the target, especially when I was so excited.
With help from Ted, I eventually became very comfortable with a gun. I was also a great shot, so much so that I entered action-shoot competitions. I went to the championships and won first place in my age group. I was a better shot than Ted. He always acted like he was jealous, but I knew deep down he was proud of me. Ted and Amy started dating not long after our first meeting. They hit it off right away. Amy told him about everything, but he never pitied me or felt sorry for me. He was always pushing me to do better. He became part of my life, part of my adopted family.
