by Kelly Holm
She got up and poured herself another glass of wine. Things were just getting more and more crazy, the more she read. Mila wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Her whole life was being turned upside-down. She decided to read a little more of the diary…
I never asked Leo for any details about how and where he found Mila. I wondered, but I figured he would tell me when he was ready. I don’t even know why he was in town that night; he was supposed to be in Sacramento getting physical therapy on his knee, so maybe he could play next season.
Last night, he came over and said he had something important to tell me, something that he had been keeping from me. Leo said he didn’t feel right keeping it from me, and he told me how he came to find Mila. He said that earlier that day, the doctors told him that his knee injury was permanent and he wouldn’t be able to play pro ball anymore. He was heartbroken and devastated and just wanted to go home and talk to his dad.
It was around 1:00 a.m. when Leo got to the short cut in Stogie. He was going past Oswald Park when he noticed a young woman pacing back and forth near a dumpster. He thought it was strange since it was so late and it was raining so hard. He said he wanted to get out of the car to try to talk to her, but he thought that might just scare her.
So, he parked his car across the street from the park and secretly watched the woman as she paced back and forth like she was trying to decide something. It was nearly impossible to see what she was holding because the rain was coming down so hard, but whatever it was, he said she held it tightly almost like she was trying to protect it.
He watched as she lifted the black plastic top back and gently placed whatever she was holding inside and closed the lid. She waited a moment, and then she ran away. Once she was out of sight, Leo got out of his car and went over to the dumpster to see what she placed inside. He said he couldn’t believe what he found.
At first, he wasn’t sure if the baby was alive or not. It wasn’t moving around, but when he poked at it, he heard a gurgle or something, so he kept poking until the baby cried. He looked around to see if the woman who placed the baby in the dumpster was still in the area so he could tell her, but she was long gone.
Leo said he brought the baby to me because he wasn’t sure if she was ok or not, but he knew, either way, I could help. When he handed the baby to me, I quickly brought her over to the counter and started to pull off the wet blanket and clothing. As I pulled the blanket from around her, a delicate gold necklace with a little gold heart on it fell out and onto the floor. When I picked it up and looked at it, I noticed the clasp was broken. There were initials on it that read, D.M. I wonder if those are the mother’s initials or the baby’s…
I put the necklace in my pocket, so it didn’t get lost. I kept it because it might be important someday down the road. I put the blanket, the little onesie she was wearing, and the necklace in a box, and put the box in the back of my closet. I don’t know how I can ever tell Mila about this; it would be devastating. Maybe some truths don’t need to be told…
Mila thought about what she just read; it was a lot to process. Not only was she adopted, but her birth mother possibly tried to poison her and then throw her away like trash! She wasn’t sure how to process the enormous amount of feelings that were surging through her. She was angry, but at the same time, curious; why would someone do that?
The anger that was starting to simmer deep down inside her was getting darker and stronger; the more she thought about what happened to her all those years ago. She wanted to find this woman and hurt her. The logical side of her told her that would be stupid, it was years ago, and you don’t know all the facts; but the vengeful side was singing a very different tune.
She quickly got up and found the box that was labeled ‘Mila’ which she had put into the hall closet with hopes of going through later. She threw the top off and started digging around to find this necklace with the initials on it that her mother mentioned in her diary. Mila went through several papers and drawings before she got to the bottom of the box. She had found the blanket and onesie, but no necklace.
Once everything was out of the box, she was crushed; the necklace was nowhere to be found. She grabbed the box and threw it across the room, narrowly missing Smokey, who was playing in the area with a ball of yarn. He screeched and ran for cover under the bed.
Mila sat down, and for the first time in days, she cried. At first, it was just a few tears, but as she allowed herself to open up, she began to sob. Things were getting too complicated. At first, she was just dealing with losing her mother, now she has to figure
out how to process not only being adopted but being thrown away by her biological mother. It was more then she could take.
She could see Smokey peeking out from under the bed. Poor thing, he was scared, he didn’t understand why things were flying across the room at him. Mila walked over and pulled him out from under the bed and held him in her arms.
“I’m sorry Smokey; I didn’t mean to scare you, I just got frustrated. Do you think we can be friends again?”
She waited while Smokey sniffed around her face and then very gently gave her a little sandpaper kiss on her chin. Then he wanted to get down and go about his regular business.
“I sure wish I could forgive and forget as easily as you Smokey.”
The more she thought about what she read, the madder she
became. What kind of person would do this? Her psychiatric mind started to wander, and she began wondering if she also had this evil inside. Was my birth mother mentally ill, or was she just heartless? The anger Mila felt was slowly turning into rage; a rage she didn’t know if she could control.
She walked over to where the box was laying and picked it up. When she did, she could hear something sliding around, like something might be stuck between the fold or something. She set the box on the table and reached in, carefully pulling the bottom flaps up one by one. As she pulled up the last fold, she saw something shiny.
She quickly pulled the flap up more and revealed a delicate, gold necklace with a small gold heart charm which had the initials D.M. engraved in cursive on it. She carefully pulled it out, noticing the broken clasp at the other end. Are the initials really of my biological mother, or are they mine; is it possible she might have named me? As she held the necklace in her hands, her mind drifted back to an earlier journal entry about a young girl who had a baby in Freyhill. I wonder if that young girl is my biological mother…
Mila quickly grabbed the diary and looked for another entry about the girl, but there weren’t any. Then she noticed something sticking out of some pages deeper in the diary. She pulled it out. It was a postcard with a picture of a lone Saguaro cactus in the desert at sunset, and it was postmarked Phoenix, 1993. She quickly read it…
Thank you so much for everything you did, Ella and I are doing fine. I will always be eternally grateful to you.
D.
Well, that threw a wrench in her plan; the postcard put her back at square one. The girl from Freyhill can’t be her mother; she and her baby are in Phoenix. This was so frustrating, Mila didn’t know how to feel, she had so many emotions to choose from, but nothing felt right.
She wished there was someone who could answer her questions; Aunt Millie would have been perfect. Unfortunately, she passed several years ago. She thought about calling Leo, but she didn’t know if she could talk to him about this. Even though he was with her mother all those years, he wasn’t around her that often. He would come over in the evenings, but he would always be gone in the morning. She wondered if that was his idea or her mothers. It was almost like he purposely kept his distance from her.
Feeling frustrated, she opened her computer and casually started surfing, hoping it would relax her. She noticed a pop-up ad on the side for a detective agency, and she began to think about searching for her birth mother. Do I really want to meet the woman who threw me away like trash? She wasn’t entirely sure. On the one hand, I would finally have closure and know where I came
from; on the other hand, this woman could be a dangerous nut-job. If she could throw her baby away while it was still alive what else could she do; her psychiatric mind was reeling with questions.
Out of curiosity, she clicked on the ad and was taken to the website. The detective’s name was Kurt Swanson, and he was based out of Santa Monica. She liked his face, it looked honest. His bio said that he worked for the Santa Monica police department as a detective for several years before starting his own agency. He claimed he could find anyone, even those who don’t want to be found. Mila saved the link in her favorites and then shut down her computer.
Her mind was racing. She looked around for Smokey; he was laying spread eagle in the middle of the bed. He appeared so comfortable like he didn’t have a care in the world. She walked over to the bed, sat down next to Smokey, and started to softly pet his exposed tummy. Smokey immediately wrapped his paws around Mila’s arm and bit her hand. Mila quickly pulled her hand out of Smokey’s grip and rubbed the bite area.
“Ok, I guess you don’t like to have your belly rubbed. I won’t try that again.”
Smokey slowly turned his body over and looked at Mila, his bright blue eyes gazed up at her with complete innocence. He looked so sweet that she reached over and tried to pet him again, this time on the back; he allowed it and started to purr.
Chapter 8
Larisa was happy she decided to go to the therapy session. She really liked Dr. Thorton, although she wasn’t sure this doctor was any different than all the others she had seen in the past. She did refill the prescription, which was the goal of the visit, she thought, but she also roped me into another session.
Larisa dreamed of a time when she didn’t get anxiety attacks, she was so tired of them and just wanted them to be done and over with. She wasn’t naïve; she knew that if she really wanted this to be over, once and for all, she would have to do some fast talking. What can I say is giving me these stupid panic attacks, she asked herself, I can’t tell her the truth, I wish I could, but I know I can’t.
As she sat at her desk, pondering various ideas, Molly burst into her office without knocking and pulled her back into reality.
“Mr. Bower just showed up without an appointment and is demanding to talk to you. I didn’t know what to do with him, so I put him in the conference room. Oh, and heads up, he looks pissed.”
“He always looks pissed. Tell him I will be right with him, and see if he wants a coffee or water or something to drink. Oh, and Molly, I need you to knock before walking in my office, ok?”
“Sure, sorry.”
Gregory Bower was an incredibly successful yet very insecure developer in Los Angeles. He had created some of the most beautiful and expensive condos in L.A., each one more luxurious then the last, and Larisa was thrilled to be working with him. She was currently in the process of selling out his latest project, Mar Grande, consisting of seventy-five, high-end, luxury
condominiums.
Larisa set the file she was working on to the side and went to see why Mr. Bower was here.
“Hello, Gregory, how’s it going?”
“You tell me. I have eighteen unsold units just sitting around collecting dust,” Gregory said, as he crossed his arms defiantly and leaned back in his chair.
Larisa knew to proceed with caution; she didn’t want to set him off. He was very high strung for someone in his line of work; and had no problem screaming at people if he felt like it, or firing them, whether they deserved it or not. This project was much larger than anything he had ever done, and Larisa knew he was probably getting anxious to move on to his next project, which he couldn’t entirely do until he sold out Mar Grande.
“I realize you’re frustrated, but don’t forget about the fifty-seven units that have sold. Sales have been slower lately, but I assure you we are doing everything we can to get those last units sold. I showed the penthouse yesterday, and they absolutely loved it, except for the price. That seems to be where I lose them.”
“Are you telling me you want a price reduction?” he screamed.
“I’m telling you that when I show the units, the clients love them, but they all mention that the price is awfully high. We discussed this, and I know you insisted on continually increasing the price with each sale, but I think we need to rethink that strategy so we can get the last units sold.”
“I want those last units sold in the next two weeks – or I’m pulling you from the listing,” he screamed as he pointed his finger at her.
“Gregory, be reasonable. I’m doing everything in my power to get these units sold, but I can’t promise they will all be sold in the next two weeks. Look, it boils down to this, these last
condos are overpriced; if we bring the price down to match the last sales, I believe we can get the remaining ones sold.”
There was dead silence.
“You really believe they are overpriced?”
“Yes. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but in my professional opinion, I believe we should have topped out at the last sale; you’ll still be breaking records with the price.”
Larisa waited patiently as Mr. Bower thought it over.
“Ok, you haven’t steered me wrong yet, I’ll allow the price reduction. Is there a way to do it without broadcasting it to the whole world?”
Larisa could tell the price reduction was hitting Gregory hard.
“Absolutely; I think we should also do another event. Maybe we could put together something for people who live in the area, not just brokers or agents, but actual buyers. We could showcase the local restaurants and shops in little booths, to give people a better idea of how great the neighborhood is. What do you think of that idea?”
“I like it as long as it sells units. When could you do this?”
“I think we could pull something together in about a week.”
“That long?”
“It takes time to plan these events. We have to go to each shop and restaurant and talk with them to see if they would like to participate. It will take a few days to make the arrangements, but I honestly think we could put a nice event together by the end of next week.”
Again, dead silence, as Mr. Bower pondered the idea.
“Alright, I think this is a great idea, keep me in the loop.”
“Great, I’ll get started on it this afternoon,” Larisa said, as they both stood and she walked Gregory to the door.
As she was walking back to her office, she took a hard right at the copier and went to see Molly.
“Molly, I need you in my office, pronto.”
“What’s going on?”
“We need to plan another event.”
“But I’m already swamped,” she whined.
“I know, but if we don’t knock this one out of the park, we’re going to lose the Mar Grande building, and that’s not something I want to happen. We’ve already sold a majority of the units in the building; we just have to get these last ones sold.”
Larisa filled Molly in on her idea and enlisted a few of the other agents to help.
Later that week, Larisa went to a second session with the therapist. She still wasn’t sure what she would say when Dr. Thorton asked her why she gets the anxiety, but at the very least, she had to get more pills.
“Hi Larisa, it's great to see you again,” Mila said, as she escorted Larisa into her office.
“It’s nice to see you too; cute shoes, by the way, Jimmy Choo’s?”
Larisa could always spot a cute shoe. She walked over to the chairs and sat down.
“Oh, thank you, yes, I just got them; good eye. So how are you doing?” Mila was a little thrown off guard with Larisa’s knowledge of shoes, but was somewhat impressed that she knew they were Jimmy Choo’s.
“I think better, I’ve only had one attack so far this week.”
“How many do you usually get, on average, in a week?”
“It really depends on the week and what’s going on.”
“Just in general, two, three, mor
e?”
“A good week, one or two; a bad week three to five, and they are more severe.”
“And you still have no idea what might be setting you off?”
“No, no idea,” she lied as she shook her head.
“Did I suggest hypnosis in our last visit?”
“I don’t know about hypnosis…”
“It’s perfectly safe. It will just help you relax and hopefully remember things you may have blocked out, but you will still be in control. Are you worried about what you might say?”
Of course, I’m worried about what I might say, you would be too if you knew what I did, Larisa thought.
“No, not really, I just don’t like to give up control.”
“Ok, I understand, that’s very common.”
“I don’t know, I’m intrigued by the hypnosis, but I don’t want to walk around clucking like a chicken or anything afterward.”
Mila smiled and tried not to laugh.
“I assure you that you won’t be clucking like a chicken at any time.”
“How long does it last?”
“As long as you want it to; you see, you can break the trance at any time, just open your eyes. It will feel like you are walking through a dream.”
“I don’t know, I…” she stopped suddenly.
“Are you worried that it might bring on an attack?”
“Will that happen?” she asked as her eyes got wide and inquisitive.
“Not usually. While you are in a trance, you will feel so relaxed that your body won’t think to have an attack. It’s kind of like this, have you ever been driving, and you get to your destination, but you suddenly can’t remember how you got there?”
“That happens to me all the time; I thought I was just absent-minded,” Larisa replied, as they both chuckled.
“That is a form of hypnosis.”
“What if I can’t be hypnotized?” she asked quickly. How could she tell the doctor that her main concern was going into the dream and telling the whole story?”