But as the days passed, her emotions swung from anger to sorrow and back to anger again. She reread the letter until it was soft with her tears.
And then she opened up to Sydney.
“My mother wrote me a letter,” Lauren blurted the moment her friend answered the door.
“Oh, honey.” Sydney grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “You’re shaking. Go sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”
Lauren settled in the living room and her hands trembled as she reached into her coat pocket to retrieve the letter. When Sydney rejoined her, Lauren handed it over. She didn’t think she could relay the contents without melting into a puddle on the floor.
She waited as Sydney brushed away a tear or two, flipped to the second page. Lauren had a knot in her throat the size of Texas. She’d sat on thisfor a week, trying to process. Her job had become little more than a distraction, and she’d made some mistakes this week. Given a caterer the wrong dates, missed an appointment with a client. She couldn’t even bring herself to care much.
Finally Sydney lowered the letter. “Wow, Lauren. I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”
“Idon’t even know how I’m feeling. It changes from one moment to the next. I’ve been a hot mess this week. I didn’t know she was an addict. I didn’t know about the accident. They didn’t tell me any of this. I only knew she left me for a man because he came to our door and off they went and she never returned.”
“Oh, Lauren. How awful for you.”
“Sometimes I’m so angry I want to slap her. And other times, when I’m reading that letter, I start feeling sympathy for her, and then I don’twantto feel sympathy because her actions caused all of this—everything that transpired afterward.”
“I can only imagine that mixed emotions are completely normal under the circumstances. She abandoned you and you’ve gone without answers for all these years and now here they are.”
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears and overflowed. “I was just a little kid.”
Sydney wrapped her arms around her. “It was so unfair. I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s truly a miracle you turned out to be such a wonderful person.”
“I have these little flashes of memory from when I was really young. I feel safe and loved in all of them.”
“I guess she gave you a good start at least. Maybe that was enough of a foundation to get you through the tough stuff you had to face. I admire you so much for overcoming all those challenges.”
Lauren leaned back and fixed her gaze on Sydney. “But have I really? When a letter from her rocks me like this... have I really overcome my past?”
“Look at you, honey. Your chances of being a successful adult probably weren’t that great, statistically. Yet you’re a good person. Kind. You’re strong and resilient. You put yourself through college and now you’re working for a prestigious company. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”
And yet that job wasn’t exactly feeling the way she’d expected it to. Maybe she’d just been too overwhelmed by the letter. Once she got past this, she’d feel more like herself.
Wouldn’t she?
“I think I need to go see her.” The words blurted out, releasing a weight from her chest.
After a moment of silence, Sydney nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk about that. What do you hope to get out of a meeting with her?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren collected her thoughts. “I guess I need to tell her how I feel. Maybe I need more answers. But I can’t go on like this, wondering and feeling angry. I’ve hardly been able to do my job.”
“Well, no wonder. This is traumatic stuff. If my long-lost dad resurfaced, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Would you want to see him?”
Sydney paused as if considering the thought. “I don’t know. I think I’d be too mad at first. But later... maybe. Take some time if you need it. Or go see a counselor and talk things over. I went to that good one a couple years ago—Liz. I could get you her information.”
“I might do that. But I really think I need to see her.” Her heart quivered at the thought.
Sydney squeezed her hand. “Whatever you need to do. I’ll go with you if you want company. Just know I’m here for you.”
It was two days later, a Saturday and the first day of February, that Lauren got up the courage.
She pulled her car to the curb in the run-down neighborhood. The two-story apartment building was made of faded red brick, but someonewas trying to keep it up. The paint on the black shutters and front door seemed fresh, and even though it was barely eight in the morning, the walkway had already been shoveled. The yard boasted a few nice trees, and shrubs crowned with snow crouched along the exterior walls.
She stared at the face of the building, her hands wrapped around the cold steering wheel. Which of those apartments was her mother’s? Apartment B, so the bottom floor probably. The one with the dead hanging plant on the patio? Or the one with the covered grill? She didn’t know anything about her mother. Probably wouldn’t even recognize her.
