Secrets and Lies: Unraveling the Hidden Truths

Note: This story was published on the Vocal for The Little Black NoteBook Challenge website several years ago, but was not classified as fiction. After extensive revision, I decided to publish the updated story as fiction.

After my incarceration, I sat alone on my mother’s 1980s rose gold fabric couch. Cat scratch marks, torn clothes, broken glasses and the smell of smoke and greasy food surrounded me. I lie down on the smelly couch and the smell of my mother comforts me.

When I woke up with a loud bang, I saw rays of sunlight shining through the haphazardly closed velvet curtains. I went into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic cup decorated with lemons, and poured myself a large glass of water to clear the fog from my tongue and head. I let in the UNC team of 1–800 people. Mom’s sideboard, king-size bed frame, and new recliner will take my place. I asked her to load everything else into her truck.

Leonard. Oh creation

Once the house was finished, the team began work in the garden and detached garage, and by 5 p.m., Mom’s house was cleaned.

“Siri, call Jenny! » I saw the truck drive away.

“Emily! how was he? “

“it was good. The cleaning team is coming tomorrow and will be ready at three o’clock. I need to get rid of these smells so I can put the house up for sale. I hated the smell and rarely went there.

“Give the key to the cleaning staff and stay with me. “Tomorrow I’m off.”

After dinner, I noticed a small black object behind the turquoise Betty Boop cookie jar that I had given my mother. She climbed up the stepladder, pushed it aside, and pulled out a small black notebook.

I flipped through the unlined pages of names, phone numbers, and comments written in my mother’s perfect cursive handwriting. He didn’t give his last name.

<George, Topeka, April 1966 Big crowd.

< Frank, Chicago, May 1966, weekend, very nice.

<Jimmy, Indianapolis, June 1966. Weekend, charming, married, new father — so much guilt about never seeing him again.

< Henry, Saint-Louis, from Christmas Day to January 6, 1967. He is tall, muscular; I love it. He’s been drafted into the army and is going to Num in the Spring and I’m so scared. The father will be angry and the mother will be ashamed. They think I’m with Jenny and her sister. I am 23 years old and they are still trying to control me.

< May 1968. Henry writes letters with names whenever he can. I write it every day.

<April 1969, I’m going to visit Henry in San Diego with Emily.

I gasped. Did she meet me? My mother said she adopted me when I was six weeks old. Did he lie to me?

I grabbed my keys, put the book in my bag and went to Jenny. I ran to Jenny crying and she led me to the kitchen. “The mind lies to me! to lie The father is not the father. My father is Henry! »

“What?”

She held out the small black notebook to him. “thoughts. He didn’t adopt me. Crap. » I sat in silence while Jenny read the book.

“Henry’s name was on it, and then it disappeared.”

I shook my head. “Yes, and Charlie came in November.”

I saw the expression on Jenny’s face change from confused to confused. Read out loud:

On November 14, 1969, Charlie from Chicago, who is very rich, gave me an emerald ring.

December 5, 1969 Tom Schomberg in “The Pilot” It was a real shock, but I received a diamond bracelet and $300 in the bank.

In January 1970, Bert, an older but popular stockbroker from Cincinnati, deposited $4,500 into my bank.

Valentine’s Week February 1970: I had dinner with Clancy from Los Angeles. He’s the lawyer who gave me a ruby ​​necklace and deposited $10,000 into my account.

In April 1970, Clancy deposited another $10,000 into the bank. he is nice; I’m falling in love with him, but he’s fifteen years older than me.

In May 1970, Clancy took us to Paris on a charter plane. I brought Emily with me and the three of us visited France for a month. He loves Emily. When I got home, $25,000 was transferred to my bank account.

August 1970. Clancy had a heart attack and died in early July! I’m sad. I liked it.

Marked with a black ribbon — She married Lawrence, a business lawyer from San Diego, in September 1971. He adopts Emily.

“Oh my God, Emily! Your mother was such an expensive call girl!

“Shut up, it wasn’t you!”

“All the jewelry and money?” What did he do with all of this? »

“I paid for my kidney. Our house, our vacation home, our cars and my father’s trips abroad after his death. All the securities were in his name and he had five hundred thousand dollars in his bank account.

“So you think Henry is your biological father, and because he was mixed race, your mother said you were adopted?” Emily nodded. “Maybe Henry died in Vietnam, or maybe they broke up.”

“Nobody asks!” I threw the spoon across the room.

**

“My father’s lawyer needs to see me. Are you coming?” Jenny nodded.

George Pritchard carefully arranged his papers into five piles. “Emily, I’m sorry about your mother. “I have instructions in this envelope.”

The thick cardboard envelope contained letters from me and some unknown adults, various documents and photos of children. A photo of a handsome man with caramel skin, hazel eyes and a bright smile, with a note on the back: “Christmas 1967, Henry.” There was also a spiral-bound paperback. He handed it to Jenny, who turned it off and then pushed it back. “Read it.”

leonardo.ai

“My dear daughter Emily. I’ll leave you all the money. Twenty thousand dollars. I came back from Vietnam addicted to drugs and your mother tried to help me for a while. Later I went to prison and he left me to protect you. It wasn’t easy for him and I ask you not to judge him. When she meets your father Lawrence, she falls in love. He sent me pictures of you and our messages so you can understand. We have communicated our commitment to you. He sent a lawyer to help me with my end-of-life issues and write a will after I became ill in prison. Be happy now — don’t be sad about it. Lawrence knew about me and we decided together not to burden you as a father in prison. We all agreed on the adoption cover story. Don’t get mad. You have made us all proud. “I love you, my beautiful daughter, Henry.”

I saw his one-page, notarized will. “M. Pritchard, I don’t need the money. Let’s honor my father by starting a foundation to help people. As soon as my mother’s estate is settled, we will see each other again. »

We went to Starbucks and ordered a Grand Triple Shot and I tipped twenty dollars. “There were a lot of secrets in those little notebooks, weren’t there?” We toast family secrets and eternal love with our caffeinated drinks.