Humbling Spot Conlon (A Spot Conlon Love Story)

Ch. 30: The Tale of Penelope Badger

I could hardly breathe as I stared at this one little piece of paper. I felt as though my entire life was a lie. I began to question everything my mother had ever told me. 

But then again, it could be that this was fake and that Simon was the one lying to me. I hoped that was the case. I really really hoped that was the case. I didn't want to live my life knowing my mom had kept this big of a secret from me. 

"I don't believe this. I can't. How is this possible?" I managed, taking the paper gingerly into my hand. I collapsed onto the couch. 

Simon took a seat next to me. "I see that it's surprising, but it's the truth." 

This wasn't a piece of information that you could take easily. As many times as he told me the truth, I would never completely believe it. It was just too bizarre. "She told me you were dead," I tried, choking on my words. 

"She probably wished I was." 

"How do I know you're telling the truth? What if you created a fake birth certificate? What if- Well, I-" I trailed off, I buried my face in my hands. 

He sighed, "I have letters, if you'd like to read them." 

I stood up. "Tell me about her," I demanded, "About both of you. Your story." 

"If you insist." 

Simon's POV

*1879*

We met when we were twelve. That's when she moved to the city from a nice house in the west. From the beginning I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the class. 

She came from a rich family, so I knew that I had no chance with her. I always wondered why she didn't go to a fancy private school or a finishing school. She certainly needed to be finished. She was the most rowdy and loud girl I'd ever met. 

I specifically remember the first time I saw her. She walked into the classroom with a dress caked in mud and hands covered in dirt. Her long blonde hair was pulled into two braids that had almost completely undone themselves, and she was sent out to go wash herself off. 

Our first conversation was an argument, strangely enough. Me and some other boys were playing marbles after school and she wanted to join. 

"What are you doing?" I asked when she sat right between me and one of my friends. 

She looked at me like I was dumb. That look was constantly being thrown in my direction. It was the one that I could stare at for hours. "I'm joining your game of marbles." 

"No you're not. You're a girl." 

The girl grabbed a marble from my hand. "You can't just disallow me from joining your game. Marbles isn't only for boys." 

"Yes it is," I argued, attempting to take the marble back. "Well, this game of marbles, at least. Go gossip with the other girls." I continued to reach for the marble, but she kept holding it farther away. 

At my comment she stood up, tossing the marble at my head. "I find gossip irritating, thank you very much." I ignored her, setting up the game. Suddenly, the girl's face was inches from mine, startling me. "I'm not leaving you alone until you say I can play. And I'm sure you'll find I am quite annoying when I want to be." 

I then realized I didn't even know her name. "What's your name?" 

"Penelope Badger. Nellie to my friends. You can call me Penelope." 

I shrugged. "Well I'm sorry, Penelope, I just can't let you join us." I liked the way if felt to say her name. It was a nice name. I repeated it in my head a couple times before snapping out of it and realizing that I was being spoken to. 

"You're just afraid of losing to a girl." 

That was the last straw for me. I stood to face her, glaring into her piercing sky blue eyes. "Have you ever even played marbles before?" 

She laughed as if this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Then her face hardened. "Of course I have, you dunce. Back in the country I always played marbles after school." 

"Well here in the city, you don't." 

She glared at me for a few moments. "Fine." I felt a jab into my shin. She'd kicked me, and she'd kicked me hard. I grabbed my leg, trying not to fall over. "I hope that leaves a nasty bruise." With that she skipped away. 

As the years passed, and we got older, we grew out of arguing with each other. Well, kind of. It was more jokes than actual hatred if we did disagree. We had become friends. 

I was fifteen when I realized I loved her. It seemed like just a typical day together at first. After school we went to our usual place where we would talk. It was a little hidden nook under the school. 

On the walk there, it began to rain. I took a faster pace, lifting my coat above my head so as to not get wet. Nellie though, she looked straight up at the rain and held her arms out. I watched her dancing around, exclaiming how much she loved the rain. That was the moment I knew. I loved her like I'd never loved anything before. 

"Join me," She persuaded, "It's fun." 

I dropped my coat on the ground, walking to Nellie. She grabbed my hands, teaching me how to do a dance she'd learned from her parents. I stopped her halfway through her demonstration, squirming my hands from hers. She raised an eyebrow at me. 

I cupped her face in my hands, leaning in. It started as a soft kiss, but when I tried to pull away she just pulled me closer, wanting more. We made our way to our place, clinging to each other the whole way there. 

We were inseparable from then on. You would hardly ever see one of us without the other. 

Penelope began acting strange about two months after that first night. She was skittish and she looked terribly sick. She often tried to avoid me. Not to mention how upset she always seemed, which was about as odd as it could get with her. She was usually the most cheerful person I knew. 

I approached her about it one day after school. "Nellie," I called out as she tried to rush away. She stopped with clear reluctance, turning to face me. "Are you alright?" She didn't say a word, she just stared at the ground. I took her hand. "You can tell me anything, you know." 

Her eyes met with mine, filled with tears. "I don't think you want to hear this." I gave her a reassuring smile. "We're going to have a kid soon. Well, soon enough." Her voice cracked as a tear slid down her cheek. 

This certainly wasn't the information I was expecting to hear. I remember not being able to breathe. I couldn't move either. I wasn't ready to raise a child. I could hardly keep myself alive. 

I stayed with her until the child was born. It was a beautiful baby girl. But seeing her sent a wave of realization through me. I'm ashamed to admit what I did, but I ran. I left her alone to raise a little girl at fifteen years old. 

Nicky's POV

"So, I was born out of wedlock," I gathered. "Well, that explains why grandma didn't seem ta like mom very much. But why did she tell me you're dead?" 

Simon rubbed his forehead. "She likely wished that were the case. It probably would've hurt less. I believe she also wanted you to create your own idea about me. She didn't want you to hate me. She was a wonderful woman." 

"So now what?" 

"You can stay with me if you'd like. Or you can go back to the lodge." 

I took a look around the room. The boys were all watching me expectantly. Except for Spot, he stared at the ground with a scowl. It was a short debate, but I knew what I was doing. "I can't stay here." 

Simon nodded in understanding. And after gathering a large stack of letters for me, he sent us on our way. I was certain I would visit him often, but I couldn't stay. I refused to be cooped up in his little apartment, needing to ask to leave. I liked to be on my own, choosing what I could do.