Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
The first box I open is just full of clothes, I empty it anyway and then carefully fold the clothes and put them back in. I don't tell Sissy about the tears running down my cheeks as I catch the scent of my baby sister. Anger and confusion, and so many mixed emotions swirl through my body. Death wasn't supposed to happen to her, not my sister, not now. She wasn't supposed to die.
I swipe a tear and reseal the box, looking up to see Sissy staring at me. I'm shocked to find she too has tears in her eyes. I can't recall a time outside of my mother dying, and no doubt King dying, even though I wasn’t there for that, that I've seen Sissy cry. Seeing her vulnerable, and genuinely putting her walls down, has me realizing that maybe underneath it all, there is a decent human.
"For whatever it's worth," she says, her voice crackly. "I am so sorry about Magnolia."
I give her a weak smile, but she needs to know just how much I appreciate those words. "Thank you."
"I'm going to miss her," she whispers and then gets back to digging through a box.
I push the clothes box aside and open the next one. It's full of journals and papers and old phones. You know, like the junk drawer items we all have. Still, it's usually in the junk drawer that you find the most secrets. I tip the box out and start sorting through the papers. Most are just receipts or take away pamphlets, a few course books as Magnolia was studying to become a childcare worker. I put those aside and keep looking.
I find a few old phones, which don't turn on, and a couple of birthday cards from mom that she had saved over the years. I bite my tongue to stop the tears coming back again because if my vision is all blurry, I may just very well miss something. I can't afford to do that right now. I take a few steady breaths, focus on my breathing, and keeping shuffling through the stuff.
I find an old leather journal that is padlocked. I feel guilty for considering opening this, but there could be something inside that might hold an answer. I glance around the room for something to bust the lock with, but eventually, I have to go downstairs and ask Sherry for a hammer so that I can smash it off. Then, I return to the room and sit at the end of the bed, opening the journal.
It isn't what I thought it would be.
I thought it might be a diary or somewhere she wrote her thoughts and dreams.
This is something entirely different.
The journal contains names, numbers, locations, and so much scribble like she's thinking out loud and just jotting everything down.
I can't make sense of any of it.
I lift it to try and read a misspelled word when a piece of paper slides out from the inside and falls onto my lap. I place the journal down and pick it up, unfolding it. It's written on lined paper and in a blue pen. It's addressed to our mother.
I open it and begin to read.
Angel,
I know you're scared, and I know you aren't sure what the right thing to do right now is, but you have to know that coming with me is making the right choice.
The things we've been through together, the things you've shared with me, you can't just walk away from that.
I won't let you.
I know this wasn't meant to happen, I know you weren't meant to feel anything for me, but you can't deny the facts. What we did together can never be undone.
Don't be scared of what you saw.
Embrace it as you embraced me.
Your kids will be okay without you.
King will find another woman.
You belong here.
You belong to all of us.
If you don't come back, you know I'm going to have to do something I don't want to do.
I don't want to hurt you, Angel.
So return home.
Dax x
What.
The.
Fuck?
I read the letter over and over, shaking my head in confusion. I don't understand. I just don't understand. There is no way in the world mom would have been seeing someone else, but that's the way this letter is making it sound. It just doesn't make sense; nothing about it makes sense.
Who the fuck is Dax?
Where have I seen that name before?
Where did she meet him?
What did she see?
What did they do together?
Suddenly, everything I thought I knew, is being ripped into a thousand tiny pieces. I can't make sense of any of it.
How did Magnolia get this letter?
Was she searching for this man?
Did he kill our mother?
King?
Oh god.
"Sissy," I squeak, turning and looking at my sister in law. "You need to see this."
I hand the letter to Sissy, and while she's reading it, I flick through the journal. By the looks of it, Magnolia was searching for this Dax guy. She has a heap of names, numbers, locations and so many different thoughts that my mind is spinning after two pages.