Letters From Laura

11

Dear Mum,

Please forgive me, but I'm so mad at you, I may even hate you. And that makes me hate myself.

After dinner Victoria and I went back to our respective rooms and waited until exactly 8:00 to leave. Victoria had everyone's schedules memorized and found that no one would be anywhere near dad's office at that time.

"Mum and Dad will be in their room, Ms. Merwin will be in the kitchen with the majority of the staff- in any case, the coast will be clear." She had told me before actually drawing a map for me to keep in my pocket, to ensure I won't get lost. The kid is smart.

So when the clock struck 8, I quickly and quietly left my room and followed Victoria's map to the office, where I found her waiting for me.

My second time in the room felt different than the first- perhaps because father wasn't there or perhaps because we were on a mission. In any case, I did feel small in comparison to everything that occupied the space. Obviously Victoria didn't feel it because she went right to the bookcase behind father's desk and pulled out the Norwood book.

She handed it to me and sat in dad's chair, opening his drawers.

"That seems a bit invasive, wouldn't you say?" I said because it did feel wrong to be rooting through his stuff.

"Maybe a tad." Victoria shrugged. "But I know he has papers on all the employees here- even Mr. Ridley." So I let her search while I looked for any more books that might come in handy.

"Aha. Got them. Ooh, Ruth Merwin. What's her story?"

"Victoria, we just need Ridley." I reminded her and I heard her sigh and then papers shuffling.

I found a copy of Catcher in the Rye, your favorite book, on a middle shelf. I picked it up and memories of you reading the story to me before bedtime as a child flooded my mind. And your excitement when it was assigned to me years later in year 7.

I couldn't understand your fascination with an American book which was written before you were even born, but you said that Holden was the perfect character because he wasn't perfect. You said you could relate to him, though I never found out just how.

I opened the cover of the book and there you had written a message to father.

Happy wedding day, Daniel. Here is my favorite book. Perhaps we can go on an adventure like this some day, what do you say?

Ophelia xo

"Laura, I found Ridley's paperwork- are you crying?" Victoria's voice shook me out of my thoughts and I quickly closed the book.

"Of course not." I said even as I was wiping my tears. "I want this book too."

But when Victoria saw the title she shook her head quickly. "Oh, no, that's father's favorite book, he'll notice it's gone. Why do you want it?"

I didn't answer her as I hugged the book to my chest before carefully putting it back in its correct spot.

Words cannot describe how I felt in that moment. My father's favorite book is one his dead ex-wife gave him on their wedding day 15 years ago. My mother lied to me my whole life about her name- apparently so did my father.

I guess Victoria noticed I was having some sort of emotional breakdown because without saying a word, she came over and hugged me as I tried and failed to hold back my tears.

I didn't stop crying all the way back to my room, not while I parted ways with a confused Victoria, not while I hid the book and papers in my wardrobe- not even now as I pen this letter to a mother who will never read it.

I am all jumbled up inside. I don't know what to do.

Can I be mad at you even though you're dead? And most importantly, do I even deserve to be mad at you, when I'm the reason you're dead?

Laura