What I Never Knew

by CL Collier

  She’s piqued my interest. What could be in this book? I sit up a little straighter and nod my head to let her know I understand.

  “When your mom found out she had cancer, she decided to write you a book.”

  My breath hitches. “What kind of book?” I ask her.

  “It’s a combination of a memoir, journal, and an advice book for you.”

  My eyes widen, and I take a deep breath. To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. I’d spent so much time with my mom since her diagnosis, but I didn’t know anything about this. I never saw her writing in it, never saw it lying around her apartment, and she certainly never talked about it. She kept this a very good secret.

  “I can tell you’re surprised,” Marla says. “She wanted to surprise you, so I’m happy to see she succeeded.”

  I bring my hand up to my chest, shaking my head in disbelief. “When did she write this?” I whisper. “I’ve never seen this book before in my life.”

  She smiles back at me. “Well, obviously when you weren’t around. You know she had trouble sleeping at night, so she would do a lot of writing then. She told me I was the only person who knew about it.”

  I look at how thick the book on the table is. It must be at least a couple of hundred pages. “That’s a thick journal. How many pages did she fill?”

  “All of it,” Marla answers.

  Stunned, I drop my hand back on the table. I can’t wait to get my hands on this journal sitting across from me. What did my mom write in it? I never knew very much about her childhood or teenage years, so I hope she included some of that information.

  “I have no idea what she wrote,” Marla continues as if she heard my thoughts. “I haven’t read any of it because I felt like this was written for you. You should be the first to read it.”

  “Really? You’ve had this book in your possession for how long, and you never cracked it open?”

  Marla shakes her head. “Nope. Your mom never told me I couldn’t read it, but she did tell me a few of the topics she wrote about. It was all stuff I already knew about her, so I didn’t want to snoop through something not written for me. I loved your mom like my own sister, and I respect the bond you two had. This book is for you, not me.”

  She picks it up to hand it to me. Just as I reach for it, though, she pulls it back slightly, not letting me take it yet.

  “I have to tell you one more thing before I hand it over,” she adds with a serious look on her face. “Your mom wanted you to know that some things you read may upset you. They may change your perception of her or maybe even of your own life.”

  What? That catches me off guard, and I’m taken aback. Pure shock and curiosity now replace the anticipation I previously felt.

  Marla looks at me very seriously as she leans in a little closer and continues. “She wanted to be honest with you. She wanted me to make it clear to you that she loved you more than anything else on this planet. Read the book with an open mind. Please, don’t let it change how much you loved her.”

  I’m speechless. I truly don’t know what to say, so I just stare at Marla in disbelief for a beat before I reply. “Of course, I won’t let it change anything. She was my mom, and I loved her with all my heart. Nothing could ever change that.”

  Marla offers the book to me again as she says, “Even though I don’t know exactly what she wrote in here, I think I pretty much know everything about her. So if you need clarification or an explanation, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “Thank you,” I say to her as I grasp the book. I place it on the table in front of me, feeling the smooth brown leather cover with my hands. As much as I’m dying to start reading it, I don’t want to open it yet. Not here. Not in a crowded restaurant. I need to be alone for this.

  Chapter Two

  Amanda

  After having lunch with Marla, I drive straight home. I can’t wait to start reading this book and see what my mom wanted me to know. What could she have done in her life that would change the way I think of her? My mom was the most thoughtful, hard-working person I knew. She always put my needs before hers. As I was growing up, I was an avid soccer player. Practices and games practically consumed our lives sometimes, but she never complained; she always encouraged me to do what I loved.

  I could also go to my mom with any problems I had. She wouldn’t judge; she would just listen first, then offer her insight. When Marla said she wrote advice to me in this journal, I knew this was her way to always be here for me. She was my go-to person whenever I needed advice.

  My mom always gave to her students, too. I remember how much time she spent at home planning her lessons for school so her class would understand perfectly. She would buy extra hats and gloves in the winter for her kids who didn’t have any. Her students’ home life stresses would become her own. She worried if they were safe at night, getting enough food to eat, or had heat to keep them warm. Where she taught had not been low income when she started, but over the years, it went downhill. She loved her school, though, and she loved her kids. Besides me, they were her life.

  So what kind of secrets did she hide from me all these years?

  It takes me a half an hour to get to my townhouse in West Seattle. As soon as I’m inside my cozy little home, I drop my purse on the floor next to my mom’s old recliner and sit down with the book. Taking a deep breath, I hesitate to open it. I’m nervous, wondering what I’m going to read. Looking down at it in my lap, I realize my life could change after reading this.

  Taking another deep breath, I open the front cover and find a note written on the first page. Seeing my mom’s handwriting puts me at ease. It also makes me miss her a little more.

  Amanda,

  This book is for you. I want you to understand more about my life and my family and give you a little motherly advice. I love you beyond words. I hope this book answers your questions.

  Love,

  Mom

  Her family? All I know about my mom’s side of the family was that her parents died in a car accident when she was eighteen. All her other relatives were either dead or estranged and living far away. She didn’t have any siblings either. Mom grew up in the small town of Kernville, California. When she was in her early twenties, she moved to Seattle. Actually, now that I think about it, I never knew all the details of why she moved here. For some reason, I never really gave it any thought. My dad’s side of the family is huge, so I have a many relatives through him. I guess I just accepted the fact that Mom’s younger years were a little sad for her to discuss, so I didn’t press her for information. Now I’m intrigued to read more.

  Turning the page, I start to read. The first several pages are a recount of stuff I already knew about her from her younger days. How she was born and raised in Kernville by her parents, Fred and Mary Childers, who were both teachers. Her mom had quit her job when Mom was born so she could stay home with her, and she had a happy childhood. Both of my mom’s parents had grown up in Kernville themselves, so their families lived there, too. Her grandparents were still around when she was little, along with a few other random relatives. Most of the family members had moved out of the little town, though, so she never knew them. By the time she was in high school, her grandparents had passed, and her relatives in town had moved away. Kernville was a small town—it still is—and many residents had to move away to find better work.

  After reading a few more pages, I come to a page where she has written a year at the top in bold, like a header for what’s to come in her journal: 1968. She was eighteen years old. The year my grandparents died.

  I continue reading.

  This was the year that changed my life. As you know, a week after I graduated high school, my parents died in a car accident. I was in utter shock at first, as you can imagine. I was so young. I felt like the world was at my fingertips as a high school graduate, but then my world was ripped away from me.

  I was now alone. The only relatives I had left at that point were Aunt Polly and Uncle Jim. Au
nt Polly was my mom’s sister, and they still lived in Kernville. They had three kids: Lucy, Jimmy, and Lorraine. Those kids were all younger than I was, though. Although I did babysit them a few times, I was never really close to them and never really played with them growing up. In fact, Lorraine, the youngest, was still in diapers when this happened. Lucy, the oldest, was probably in third or fourth grade. Anyway, my point is, Aunt Polly and Uncle Jim lived in town and were supportive of me, but they had their own family. I didn’t fit in there. I told myself I was an adult now and needed to take care of myself. They did help me with all the legal stuff pertaining to my parents’ death, though, and for that I was very grateful. I had to sell our house because I couldn’t afford to keep it. They helped me put it on the market. They did offer to let me stay with them, but I refused. Instead, I moved in with John, my boyfriend at the time.

  I look up from the book in disbelief. I’ve already learned a bunch of new information: Aunt Polly and Uncle Jim and their kids, as well as her boyfriend, John, who she lived with!?! How could I not have known about these people? Especially my relatives? I decide to continue reading to find out more.

  John was my high school sweetheart. We were very much in love. He was a year older than I was, so he had already been out of high school and working for a year. He had his own apartment in town. When I had to sell my house, he offered to let me move in. I loved him, and I truly thought we would end up getting married, so I accepted his offer. My aunt Polly wasn’t fond of the idea. They liked him, but they thought we were too young to live together. She and Uncle Jim tried to talk me into living with them instead, but as I said, I was stubborn.

  Well, to make a long story short, I ended up getting pregnant.

  What. The. Hell.

  What did I just read in my own mom’s handwriting? She got pregnant at eighteen? It wasn’t me, obviously, so does this mean I have a sibling out in the world somewhere?

  I turn back to the book and continue.

  John and I were scared but also excited to have a baby. He had a decent job, working as a mechanic at his dad’s auto shop. I also worked at a store in town. We were doing well, and we were happy. I thought we would get married, I’d have this baby, and we’d have more babies someday. That’s not what happened, though.

  When I was almost three months along, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated, and it really affected me. I fell into a depression, and I started pushing John away. To make a long story short, we broke up.

  Since I was living with him, I had to move out. My aunt and uncle tried to convince me again to live with them, but I was itching for a change. I wanted to get away from Kernville and all the sad memories it held for me, so I packed up and moved to Las Vegas.

  How could I not know so much about my mom’s life? I thought she moved from Kernville straight to Seattle, no stops in between! I have to close the book and take a break for a minute. This is a lot of information to process all at once. Family members I never knew about, my mom was pregnant before she had me, and she lived in Las Vegas? I put the book on the end table next to me and stand to get a glass of water from the kitchen. My mind is racing with all this information about my mom. I wonder what else I could possibly learn about her? I also wonder if my dad even knows this?

  I stand in my kitchen and look out the window while I have a drink of water. I have a sliver of a view of the Puget Sound on clear days like today. I remember how much my mom and I enjoyed taking walks along the water together. We’d spend hours talking. I don’t remember the last time we took a walk together, but it was before she started her cancer treatments. She became so weak after that, and she couldn’t handle even taking short walks. The memory causes my eyes to water, so I wipe a tear away from my eye. God, I miss my mom.

  I wonder if she ever wanted to tell me all this about her life in person? Why did she wait to write it in a book for me to read after she died? She must have kept these secrets for a reason. Was she ashamed of something? Why couldn’t she have told me about Aunt Polly and Uncle Jim? It sounds like they played an important role in her life. Are they still alive? Or their kids? Do I have relatives on my mom’s side of the family who I could meet someday?

  Finishing my water, I place the empty glass in the sink and head back to the living room. I need to read more and learn what happened after she moved to Vegas.

  Chapter Three

  Amanda

  Aunt Polly and Uncle Jim were very upset with me for leaving Kernville. But they didn’t understand how depressed I was. Imagine suddenly losing both of your parents, then losing an unborn baby! Every turn I took in that small town reminded me of either my parents or John and the pregnancy. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to leave. Uncle Jim told me not to come running back to them; they were basically writing me off. I was officially alone now.

  Vegas held a lot of potential for me. I knew I could get a job at a casino and make enough money to support myself. Of course, I was scared to death to travel all by myself to a town I had never actually been to and start my life over. All I had were a few boxes and suitcases full of my clothes and some mementos of my parents I wanted to keep. I loaded up my car—my mom’s old Catalina I inherited—and drove to Las Vegas.

  When I first arrived in the city, I checked into a hotel. I didn’t know where I would live or work yet. I did have some money, but it wouldn’t last forever. I needed to start looking for a job and a place to live right away. I soon landed a job as a cocktail waitress and then found a small apartment for myself. It felt so good to be there, starting my new life.

  However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still in love with John. Even though I felt the need to get away from him, he was still in my heart. Before I left him, I was pushing him away. I was so sad about losing the baby and still grieving my parents that I really wasn’t thinking straight. After living in Vegas for a couple of months, I decided to try to call him, but he wasn’t home when I called. Then I decided to try to call my best friend growing up, Michelle. I hadn’t talked to her since I left town either. As I said, I was depressed and not thinking straight at the time.

  Michelle was surprised to hear from me, of course. She filled me in on all the town gossip, and I filled her in on my new life. She also let me know some news that devastated me even more. John was dating someone new. A girl we had grown up with named Susan. This news hurt me, and I vowed never to call John again. I had to let him go and move on with my own life.

  Living in Las Vegas and working as a cocktail waitress meant alcohol was readily available. I started drinking to ease all the pain I was feeling. I never got drunk while I was working, but getting drunk became a regular thing for me. It wasn’t until I met Marla a few months later, and she helped me see how stupid I was being, that I finally stopped.

  I’m not sure you want to know all this, but I want to tell you as a warning. I don’t anticipate you ever becoming an alcoholic—don’t take it that way—but if you’re ever feeling depressed or lost, please don’t turn to alcohol or drugs. Seek professional help instead. I can’t tell you how many times I woke up in a stranger’s bed or blacked out and didn’t remember the night before. This only made me feel worse, which prompted more drinking. I hit a real low, and I’m forever grateful that Marla came into my life. She was truly my saving grace.

  I look up from the book, shocked once again by my mom’s words. I had no idea she went through all this. I feel like I didn’t really know my own mother. My gut tells me that she kept this a secret because she was ashamed, and I can accept that, considering what happened to her and the bad choices she made.

  Also, I thought she met Marla when she moved to Seattle! I know Marla grew up here, and her family lives here, so how did she end up in Vegas?

  I continue and find the answer to my question.

  Marla got hired at the same cocktail lounge as me about a year after I did. We worked together a lot, and we became great friends. She was actually the first real friend I made in Vegas. I had met a few other
girls through work and at my apartment complex, but they were more like acquaintances. Marla was a true friend. She had decided to move to Vegas for a change, too. She had lived in Seattle her entire life, and she felt like she needed to experience something new. Her uncle managed the casino we worked at, so when she was looking for a change, her aunt and uncle offered her a place to stay, and he helped her get a job as a cocktail waitress.

  Marla and I started hanging out regularly, which curbed my urge to drink because she listened to all my problems. When she decided to move back to Seattle a year later, she invited me to come with her. Of course, I accepted, and that’s how I ended up moving here.

  After acceptance to the University of Washington, Marla started attending school. She wanted to be a teacher, which I had always considered as well. Having grown up with a dad who was a teacher and a mom who used to be, it was a career I had given a lot of thought to when I was younger. Marla and I lived together in a small apartment near UW, and seeing her attend school encouraged me to apply. I got accepted and started a year after she did.

  While I was going to school, I met your dad, and the rest is history. You know how he and I met and fell in love.

  I’m sure you have a lot of questions, so I’ll try to fill in some information for you now. Marla knows a lot as well so feel free to ask her. Your dad knows most of this although not as much as Marla does. He got the edited version when I met him.

  Well, that answers some questions for me. My dad knows most of this but not all of it. Interesting. I’m curious to see what other information she divulges.