Secrets
My father passed away about five years ago. And here I am sitting at the bedside of my dying mother, holding her hand and telling her how much she has meant to me. As she drifts in and out of consciousness, her mind wanders. Sometimes she can be quite lucid and at other times she’s in a made up world of her own making.
In the lines of her face I could usually read those flashes of memory. I usually could tell when she was telling me truth or fairy tale. Suddenly her face changed. The lines in her face became taut with concern. Her breath slackened. She stared directly into my eyes and in a voice so crisp and clear, she said, “He’s not your father. It was the dancer’s child. Find the box.” Her eyelids closed and she was gone.
I didn’t pay much attention to what she had said and just put it off to one of her fanciful ramblings. That was until a week later, when I was cleaning out her apartment with my sisters and there in the back of the closet I found an old jewelry box. The box was unlocked and as I lifted the lid a resounding “CREAK” met my ears as the rarely used box’s hinges rubbed against each other. In the box I found a plumed feather, similar to one you might see on a peacock or on Halloween mask to hide the identity of a lover at a masquerade ball. Its distinctive eye at the tip of its stalk focused solely on me. In a scrap of black velvet was a diamond bracelet, truly worth much money, with an inscription on it saying, “You’re my gem – our love forever”
And then there was the note.
The moment I saw you on the dance floor I knew you were the one for me. The hours and nights we’ve spent together have meant the world to me. But I must go now to my other life and family and you to yours. Remember what we had and never forget. Until we meet again in the great beyond. R.M.
OH MY GOD! Who? What? Where?
There are some things that you are never destined to know, until it’s too late. I guess this will have to be one of them.
