Dear Tabitha

by Trudy Stiles

  Her eyes are filled with desire and need, but the rest of her body screams for comfort and protection. She seems conflicted with her emotions, struggling to break through her intense fear of intimacy.

  But I know what I want and it’s her. My heart clenches as her expression changes. She throws herself into my arms and buries her head into my chest. The ugly sweater that I’m wearing must be rough against her cheek, but she holds on tight. “Thank you. Thank you,” she says over and over again into my chest.

  I kiss the top of her head and squeeze her tight against me. I suddenly realize something that she’s probably not ready to hear.

  I love her.

  Present

  Age 24

  I’M SITTING in the bookstore office, and my hands shake uncontrollably. I don’t know if I’m ready to do this, but I have to. I’m going to call Marta. I have to know why she did what she did. Why they kept my daughter from me for all of these years. I dial her number and hit send. The phone rings three times before she picks up.

  “Hello?” a groggy voice says on the other end of the line. I suddenly realize that it’s very early in Portland since it’s only nine o’clock in the morning here.

  Just hearing her voice brings me back to the club in Portland. I imagine Tony ripping the phone from her hand to scream that he’s coming for me and I shudder.

  “Marta,” I say, trying to mask my emotions.

  She gasps into the phone. “Oh, Cara! Tabitha! My sweet girl! You got my letter! Thank God. Oh, thank God.” She starts to weep. For all of the time that I spent with this woman, I never saw her cry. Not once. She was always so stoic and strong. I admired this woman a long time ago. For all she endured in her abusive marriage. For all she endured with Tony. While she was mostly passive when it came to the violence that Tony unleashed on me, I’ve come to understand why she didn’t get involved. It’s what she always knew and how she lived. She was abused by her late husband and didn’t know how to help break the cycle with me. She did what she could to support me, but it wasn’t enough. I had to take things into my own hands.

  “Marta,” I interrupt her sobs. “I need to know. Why?” I jump right to the point. I need to know now. Enough bullshit. I’ve waited long enough.

  She catches her breath. “Oh, I have so much to tell you. So, so much. But first, you need to listen. I’m begging for your forgiveness. Begging you. What I did was wrong and I know that. I can’t apologize enough for what we did. Tony and me. I’m so very sorry and I need you to forgive me. Or at least promise me that you’ll try.”

  Her tone is desperate and I can’t believe she’s asking me to forgive her. She and Tony stole my child from me. How is this even remotely forgivable? How can she be asking my forgiveness? I’m stunned by all of this but I’m curious to hear more.

  “I don’t know what to say to you right now. Your letter was unexpected, to say the least. I find out that my daughter has been living with you for seven years. It makes me sick to think that she could have been subjected to the ugly monster that lived inside Tony. Please, dear God, tell me that he never laid a hand on her. Please.” I want so many answers. I need to hear the truth. But what’s most important is Sara and what could have happened to her at Tony’s hand.

  “Oh, no! Please, don’t think that at all. For the little time that he did spend with her, he was wonderful. She was his princess and he never let her forget it,” she says.

  I want to puke. That fucker called me Princess, and it was not a term of endearment. Whenever that word left his lips, it meant that I should duck and cover. His sneering directly led to a vicious beating or worse. I’m sickened over the fact that he called my daughter by the same pet name.

  “So why, Marta, why did you contact me now? After all of these years?” I ask, trying to hide my anger.

  “I need to tell you about Sara first. She is so beautiful and looks just like you, except her hair is curly.” She pauses. “She has all of your features. She is all you.”

  Her describing my daughter to me is almost too much to hear. I’ve always wondered what Sara would grow up to look like. I’ve tried to picture her in my mind over the years, but couldn’t. I haven’t been able to imagine her face until now. “Thank you.”

  “Sara knows all about you. I gave her the picture that I took of you holding her just after she was born. She keeps it on her nightstand. I’ve told her so much about you, and even though she’s never met you, I know that she loves you.”

  Oh my God, hearing this makes my heart skip a beat. It amazes me to think that my daughter, whom I have never met, loves me. “Go on,” I urge her as my heart beats wildly in my chest and my hand shakes while holding the phone to my ear.

  “Where do I begin, cara?” She takes a deep breath to collect herself. It feels strange to hear her use her Italian term of endearment for me. “I’ll start from the beginning – the day after you found out you were pregnant. When I got enough courage to tell Tony about it, he lost his mind. He did not want children. He didn’t want the responsibility, but he also didn’t want a child of his growing up in the same world that he did. Filled with crime and violence.”

  I stifle a laugh when she says this. Seriously? He was the number one offender. I’ve heard stories about his father, but I’m sure that Tony could put him to shame being the vile monster that he was.

  “I’m sorry, Marta, but I find it hard to believe that Tony actually cared that much about anything. You know exactly how he treated me. He wasn’t innocent,” I retort. The tension in my body builds and I just want to find out everything. Now.

  “You’re right. He wasn’t. As a matter of fact, he was terrible to you. You already know that he was a monster in so many dimensions of his life. But I promise you this, the moment that he eventually let Sara into his heart, he fell in love. Everything became about her. Yes, he stole her from you. I won’t deny that. He did it for me, and for that, I’m sorry. I didn’t ask for her. In fact, I was planning on helping you raise her. But Tony had other plans.” Clearly he did or he wouldn’t have tried to kill me.

  “Marta, I’m sorry, but you will never convince me that Tony was a good man. Let’s get on with Sara, please. I don’t forgive Tony and I never will. End of story.” I’m harsh, but she can’t possibly think that I’m going to forgive him in any way.

  “Okay. After Sara was born, I requested they move you to a different floor so you wouldn’t get upset when you saw other new mothers with their babies. Tony didn’t want you to see her. He had me come visit with her and I actually stayed with her for the two nights that she was there. I fed her, changed her, bathed her. I did everything that you should have been permitted to do. I’m sorry that Tony took that away from you. You’re her mother and now she belongs with you.” She sniffles as she pauses.

  “He only visited her in the hospital for about five minutes. He wouldn’t hold her or touch her. He also didn’t call her by name. I put her name on the birth certificate since I knew what you planned to name her. I’m happy that she was able to have a piece of you throughout all of this.” Her voice trails off and my grip on the phone tightens.

  “Did Tony even care about her? It’s hard for me to believe that a father could ignore his own daughter the way that he did.” So many things about that bastard are truly appalling. But this takes the cake for me.

  “Honestly, at first, no. He avoided her at all costs. Then, after you left… he just didn’t want to be around her. Because of what you did to him. How you hurt him. He wanted nothing to do with Sara.” she says quietly. “But he wanted me to have her to build the family that I was never able to.”

  How I hurt him? Bullshit. “Marta, he tried to kill me that night. I did what I had to do.” I have absolutely no remorse for hurting him, and I wish I had been able to crush his skull with more force.

  “I know. I know,” she says. “It took a long time, almost two years, before he could stand to be in the same room with Sara. She reminded him so much of you. But as time went by, he c
ouldn’t resist her. She is such a charmer.” I can hear her smile through the phone as she describes my daughter. But her tone turns solemn again. “Sara only knew Tony for a year before he was arrested and indicted for some very bad things. He went to prison right after she turned three. Then he was killed. She barely remembers him.”

  I sit back in the chair, letting this all sink in. I’m immensely relieved that she had very limited interactions with Tony.

  “So why now?” I ask. “Why contact me after all of these years? After Sara has lived with you and you’ve established her memories and built a life for her with you?”

  “I’m dying,” she whispers.

  I gasp as my hand flies to my chest. This is not at all what I expected to hear from her. Dying? Oh my God.

  “Marta, I – I don’t know what to say…”

  I hear her soft sobs through the phone. “I have an aggressive form of lung cancer. I stopped all treatments a few weeks ago. I don’t have much time left.” Her voice trails off.

  “Does Sara know?” I ask, suddenly worried about how my daughter is handling this terrible news.

  “She knows enough. She knows that I’m sick and not getting any better. She doesn’t know that I’m going to die or that it may happen soon. I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her. She’s only seven.” She’s weeping uncontrollably now, and I need to give her a minute to calm down.

  Seven. I was seven when Trina died. I remember all too well what that felt like. I was confused, scared, angry, and devastated. So many awful things have happened to me throughout my life, but losing Trina was the most painful. Losing the only mother that I ever knew, who loved me unconditionally, was dreadful. And then the chain of events that occurred after her death completely destroyed me for years.

  How on earth am I going to help Sara through this? I’m not entirely sure that I can live through it again. Seeing death through the eyes of a seven year old. But I know that I must do it. For her. I have no other choice, and neither does Sara.

  “I’m so sorry, Marta. So very sorry. Tell me what can I do. What’s next?” I ask.

  “How soon can you come to Portland?” she asks.

  “As soon as possible,” I answer and mentally start to think about what I need to prepare. What I need to do. How am I going to give Sara a home here? My mind is racing.

  “Okay, can you take down all of my information?” she asks and proceeds to give me her address. I scribble it down on the back of a receipt I find on the desk.

  “Got it. I’m going to hang up and check into flights. I will try to fly out today if I can. I’ll call you back soon to let you know my arrangements. Okay?”

  “Yes, cara. That’s okay,” she says softly. I can tell she’s crying again. I feel so incredibly sad for her. For Sara.

  “Marta, I’ll call you soon. Take care,” I say as I disconnect the call.

  I try to stand, but my legs are shaking. This is unbelievable. I’m so incredibly happy that I’m going to see my daughter and bring her home with me. But, oh my God, Marta. She’s dying. The only mother that Sara has ever known is dying.

  I need to pull myself together and get to Oregon. Today. I’ll figure out on the way there how I’m going to handle all of this.

  Present

  Age 24

  I STARE at the door that has so many answers lying behind it. Truth, lies, fiction. I’m here at Tabby’s apartment because I need answers. Explanations. Apologies. I’m about to knock when it flies open. She looks frantic and surprised to see me.

  “Hey, I hope it’s not a bad time,” I say and I don’t know why but I’m suddenly worried. Something isn’t right. A suitcase stands by the door with her purse and jacket resting on top. I glance at them and then back to her. “Going somewhere?” Is she running? Taking off to avoid the inevitable? Trying to escape from the web of lies that she created? She can’t leave. I need answers.

  “Alex, I wasn’t expecting you,” she says.

  How could she not be expecting me? I told her barely an hour ago that I needed to talk to her and she was the one who suggested meeting. So, here I am, and I’m confused again. I want to hear all about Emily and her new family. There are still so many questions that I need answered. She owes me that much.

  “You said to come by. Remember? Just before you had to make that important phone call?” My tone is annoyed, but I can’t help it.

  “Oh. Right.” She looks past me and shuts the door. “So, yeah, I’m going someplace, and I need to leave quickly.” She seems very flustered, almost anxious, and I’m growing concerned for her. How can I go from anger and resentment to worried so quickly? I can’t help it though since the look on her face is panicked and stressed.

  “Is everything okay? Is something wrong?” I ask her. Is she running away? And if so, from what or who?

  She turns her back and walks into the living room. “I can’t really say,” she murmurs with a strained voice.

  What?

  “Tabs, what is going on? Enough with the vague shit already.” I’m angry again and I’m trying to understand why she won’t communicate with me. Fuck.

  “Listen, I don’t have time, okay? I’m waiting for the car service to get here to take me to the airport, and they’re late. This conversation is going to have to wait until I get back from Port-.” She stops herself from finishing the sentence and her eyes get wide.

  “Holy shit, Tabs, please, tell me you aren’t going to Portland!” I shout at her, louder than I intend. She’s going to Portland? Tony is going to kill her if he sees her. She’s out of her fucking mind. I need to stop her.

  “Alex, I just can’t get into this right now. Yes, I’m going to Portland, and that’s all I can tell you.” She looks scared and nervous. Shit, this is very bad.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this. You shouldn’t be going to Portland, especially alone. I’m coming with you,” I blurt out. I must be crazy for suggesting this, but I can’t help it. She’s putting herself in danger by going and I can’t let anything happen to her, regardless of what’s going on with us.

  “No!” she yells at me. Her face looks pale and her eyebrows are furrowed. “You are absolutely not coming with me. What makes you think I would even want you there?” She folds her arms across her chest and taps her foot quickly on the floor.

  I’m adamant, “It’s not a matter if you want me there or not. You’re committing suicide if you go, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.” I soften my voice and drop my clenched hands to my sides. “I don’t want to see you get hurt… or worse.” She needs to see that I still care about her. I feel it. Why can’t she?

  She relaxes a little bit and the scowl leaves her face. “Alex, you don’t understand. It’s not like that anymore.” She glances at her phone, and at the same time, I hear a car horn blaring from outside her building. “Shit, I gotta go!” She grabs her bags and ushers me out the door.

  “Tabs, please wait a second!” I beg her as she runs down the stairs and out the door.

  She turns to face me, looking into my eyes. “It’s going to be okay, I promise … but I need to go now.” She tries to convince me, but I don’t believe her. Not one bit.

  Holy shit! What the hell just happened? She’s gone and I hear the car peel away from the curb.

  I realize that I don’t have any answers about Emily, but all I can think about is Tabby’s safety. My heart races as I realize I may have seen her for the last time. I panic as I start to picture what will happen if Tony gets his hands on her… Oh my God.

  ~

  I race to find the one person who will know exactly what’s going on. Kirsten. The chimes sound as I open the door and scan the empty store to find her.

  “Alex, what are you doing here?” she says as she walks out from the back storage room. She looks surprised, if not a little startled.

  “You need to tell me everything that’s going on with Tabby,” I demand. “Do you know that she just left for Portland?” I ask incredulously,
raising my voice. “She’s going to get herself killed, Kirsten!” I pace back and forth in the store.

  Her face drops as she looks to the floor. “I can’t say anything. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Please, stay out of this for now.” She lowers her voice. “You realize that this isn’t your business anymore, right?”

  This is maddening! I may not have a right to know, but can’t she see that I still care about Tabby? I have to help her, to protect her.

  “Seriously, Kirsten? I just found out about Emily yesterday, and now Tabby’s on a suicide mission! Don’t keep me in the dark on this one. I can’t sit here while she throws herself to the wolves.” The wolf. No matter what has happened between the two of us, I can’t stand to see her get hurt or worse.

  “Alex, it’s different now,” she says as she picks up a box of books and moves to the second row of shelves. She unpacks the books and continues. “Trust me, this time her trip to Portland is different. She’s not running away or into a trap.” She seems angry, as if I don’t trust what she’s saying. But I can’t help myself. My urge to be with Tabby, to protect her, is too great.

  I take a deep breath and let her comment sink in. It relieves me somewhat, but I still need to know what is going on. I have a sense of dread, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me, but at least give me her travel information.”