The Letter

THE LETTER

“I wasn’t going to show you this, but take a look and see what you think”.

I pulled out the grubby letter from my pocket and put it on the table in front of Bob. He looked at me quizzically and gave his slow smile that I loved.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Read it”, I encouraged.

“Letters are private,” he said. “I don’t read other people's letters.”

“Don’t you? I thought everyone did,” I told him in surprise.

“That’s down right rude. You must have been taught that,” he admonished me sternly.

I gave a careless shrug. “I must have missed that lesson,” I told him. “Anyway, it's my letter and I can show it to whoever I like.” I nudged it towards him. “Go on. Read it.”

Bob shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right, even if it’s yours.”

“Oh for goodness sake, Bob, just read it.”

“Who sent it to you.? It looks very old.” He touched the discolored paper with his forefinger.

“It is old. My mother sent it to me when I was ten years old.”

Bob turned to look me straight in the eye. “Your mother!” his eyebrows raised up in surprise. “She’s been gone for years. Before you were ten.” he added unnecessarily.

“I know,” I agreed. “I was given it by my Grandmother when I turned ten. It explains a lot of my childhood and what happened to my mother and who my father was. It’s all in the letter.”

Bob picked up the envelope and turned it over to remove the letter inside, but stopped abruptly. “You’ve never opened it,” he said, staring at the sealed envelope. “How do you know what’s in it?”

“My Grandmother told me,”

“But why haven’t you opened it?”

I shook my head and my voice deserted me. “I don’t know,” I managed to whisper. “I was scared it might be awful, or sad or not true. Any of those things.”

Bob nodded. "I can see that,” he agreed. “So what’s changed your mind?”

“I thought if you read it first and told me what it says, it would be easier to accept whatever is in it.”

Bob looked skeptical. “I doubt it,” he said. “It’ll still be awful, sad or untrue.”

I sighed. “I know. Please read it. Not out loud and then give me a summary.”

Bob handed the letter back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to know either.”

He stood up from the table and patted my cheek. “You have to do it yourself. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when you’ve read it.” He smiled again. “It might be great news and nothing to worry about.”

He left me sitting at the table staring at the old envelope as if it was a bomb about to explode.

I touched the yellowed envelope, then picked it up quickly. Before I changed my mind I broke the seal and pulled out the contents. I found myself staring at an old photo of Mum, Grandma and me aged about 5. I studied the photo, but had no memory of the place or time. We were at a beach and we all looked so happy. Even Grandma and she hardly ever smiled. I flipped the photo over and on the back was written in Mom’s neat handwriting. “New Brighton Beach. January 1995.” The date was familiar. It was the month that I had turned five. Just before Mum was gone and Grandma and I were left bereft. I looked at the photo again, but no memory of the occasion came to me.

With a deep breath, I put it down and picked up the letter. It was folded into three and there were bright red lip sticked lips where the bottom edge met the second fold. I knew straight away that it was Mom’s lipstick. Grandma never wore any and she highly disapproved of the color that Mum always wore. I placed my lips on top of the lipstick and gently kissed it. I could faintly smell Mom’s perfume ingrained into the paper and I gulped back a sob that threatened to overwhelm me.

I unfolded the letter slowly. My eyes blurred with tears so that I couldn’t make out the words. The ink was violet in color, which I remembered as being Mom’s favorite ink, from the birthday cards I still had tucked away in the back of a drawer. Sometimes, when I was feeling nostalgic, I took them out to reread them.

I wiped my eyes dry and, with another deep breath, I began to read.

Dear Amelia,

I hope your Grandmother has given you this letter on your 10th birthday as she promised she would. I so wish I could be with you for the occasion, Sweetheart, but it wasn’t to be. I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother that you deserved.

I had to leave you because I did a terrible thing, which I had to be punished for. This is such a hard letter to write, but you need to know the truth.

Your father was a handsome, dashing man with the most beautiful smile, which you, my darling girl, have inherited. I am so grateful that is the only thing that he passed on to you.

He treated me badly, which everyone could see except me. We got married just before you were born, much to your Grandmother’s horror. We didn’t tell her until it was done. She had begged me to leave him and come home, but I was stubborn and sure that he loved me as I loved him. After you were born, he began to hit me and threatened you whenever you cried. It took me 2 weeks to realize that the environment wasn’t safe for either of us, but especially for you. So we left and went back to live with Grandma.

Of course he came looking for us, but we managed to keep out of his way. I took out a protection order against him and we moved away and set up a new life in another town.

All went well for almost 5 years when he finally found us. Grandma had come for a visit. That photo in the envelope is the last day we all spent together at the beach. I hope you remember it, as it was a really happy day.

Unfortunately I think he must have followed Grandma and found out where we were living. You were at a friend's place for a birthday party when he turned up on the doorstep. He was all smiles and promises of being a better person. I so badly wanted to believe him and to be a family, but I knew his promises were worthless.

When I told him to go, he attacked me and I defended myself with some martial arts that I had been doing. He fell and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table. I admit that I panicked. I came and got you from the party and we went back to Grandma’s place yet again. I was arrested and charged with manslaughter.

At this point I put the letter down and dried my eyes on my sodden handkerchief. Bob came inside. He had been working in the garden and smelt of freshly cut grass and tomato plants. He knelt down in front of me and wiped my tears from my cheeks with his work roughened hands.

“Is it awful and sad?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’ve nearly finished it.”

I turned back to the letter.

Dearest Amelia. I spent some time in jailfor my actions. After my release I couldn’t come home. I was embarrassed and frightened of what people would say. But mostly I was scared how you would be treated having a jail bird as a mother. So I left you in Grandma’s care. I am not proud of my actions, but at the time I thought there was no going back now.

I hope you can forgive me and not think too badly of your mother.

My love is with you always,

Mom xxxxxx

I passed the letter to Bob and he read it quietly.

When he had finished he sighed and folded the letter up again. “She didn’t die then?” he said, a little unnecessarily I thought.

“No,” I said. “Grandma lied to me. I think that;s the worst part of all.” I added as another sob escaped. “I’m going to ring Judy,” I said suddenly.

Bob nodded. “Good idea,” he agreed. He was so obviously at a loss as to how to help me that any idea would have been a good one to him.

Judy hung up the phone and went into her mother who was crocheting a blanket in the lounge room where the sun streamed in, making the room cheerful and warm.

“Who was that Judith?”

“My friend Milly,” Judy replied with a quiet sigh. She picked up her own crocheting "Will my mother ever call me Judy?” she thought to herself.

“Milly? Is that your friend from work?”

“Yes,” Judy said. “She’s Amelia really, but we all call her Milly. It’s quite funny really. She’s ten years or so older than me, but we get on really well. Some people even think we are sisters as we look a bit alike. “She has just opened a letter that she got when she was ten. It was written by her mother. It’s pretty horrific really. I’m going to go and see her now. Her husband is at a bit of a loss as to what to do, so I said I would go over and be a shoulder to cry on. Would you like a cup of tea before I go?”

There was no reply. Judith looked up from her own crochet that she was putting back into her work bag. Her mother was looking at her in what looked like fear to Judy. “Mum, what's wrong?” Judy asked anxiously.

“Sins always find you out,” her mother replied and fainted dead away.