by J. A. James
"When did my mother give this to you?" Halva asked, curious.
"Oh..." Christine said, as she put them down delicately at the end of the mahogany table. "A few years back. When she was diagnosed."
Halva nodded numbly. The cancer diagnosis had been severe. Halva admitted she had been guilty of brushing it aside though, given her workload had been so heavy. I never thought once about visiting, she realized with a guilty pang. On the one hand, she was always terrified of running into her father. And the other - she was angry at her mother. For refusing to leave the home when she’d asked. My mother chose her life, she thought grimly. She didn’t choose me.
She slowly untied the ribbon, which fell in a slippery heap onto the table.
Christine watched her. "Let me give you some time to take a look," she offered, standing to gather the tray of tea.
Halva looked at her, distracted. "Oh! I'm so sorry, you must have other things to attend to --”
"No, no dear!" Christine said. "You take your time here. Harry will be back at six thirty and will be taking me out for dinner. But there's plenty of time." She reached out and patted Halva's hand, smiling. "Stay and take a look."
Halva nodded. "Ok. Thank you," she said quietly.
Christine left for the kitchen, and Halva was alone in the living room. She lifted the lid off the box, and found a letter inside.
Dear Halva, love:
I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I wish you happiness. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. These days are very strange for me. When I sleep, I dream, and sometimes I think there are people talking to me. When I wake, the memories and conversations are gone, as quickly as I wake...
But I was urged one night to get up and give this to you. I don't know... I suppose you can say, someone told me to do it. So I have... I have always had them in my possession and... while they aren't gold or diamonds... I wish you to keep them close to you. Please. For me.
I have always felt drawn to it. I couldn't tell you why even if I wanted to... if I had given them to your father, well, he would have just thrown them away. So. I entrusted them to my dear friend Christine, for you.
Love always,
Nanna
Love always... Halva's hands trembled as she slipped the worn letter back into the envelope.
She sighed as she opened the box. It was full of crumpled paper. Confused, Halva slowly started to remove them from the box, until she reached the bottom - there was a little black satchel tightly wrapped up.
She opened the satchel and shook the contents onto her palm - to reveal first, a necklace with a cross pendant. She recognized it immediately - it was the same cross her mother had always worn. A tiny diamond sparkled in the middle of the cross. And the second - it was a black stone. It was barely over a centimetre long, but perfectly round in shape. Another piece of paper rolled out, tightly folded.
She placed the two items carefully on the table as she unfolded the piece of paper. It had been folded almost a dozen times into a tiny square. Its final edge was folded into a pocket; her mother had spent time time doing this. She slowly unfurled the note.
A shaman gave it to me when I was travelling. He said it was meant to be mine. I don't think he was wrong.
She was perplexed. She must mean the stone…? Halva looked at it closely, bringing it towards the light. Then she saw it held a semi transparency to it, in contrast to its black onyx color.
Was it a crystal? she wondered. Her mother had never struck her as the type of woman who would be into crystals or energy healing. Oh, her mother... she closed her eyes as she suddenly was reminded of the happiest times she had shared with her mother. She rubbed her hand on the surface of the stone, enjoying its smoothness. Suddenly, a warmth shot through her hand – no, it was more than just warm. It was as if she’d touched a hot burner.
Startled, she dropped it onto the table with a clatter, shooting out of her chair.
"Halva?" Christine called out. She poked her head out of the kitchen. "Is everything all right?"
"Uh... yes," Halva said, rubbing her left palm with her right hand. "Everything...everything's fine."
She continued to stare at the stone. Had she just imagined it? She gingerly touched it again. It was cool to the touch.
How odd.
Goosebumps raised on her arm. There was nothing else in the box. She looked under all the crumpled papers which now were askew on the table. She lifted them. Nothing. No other notes. There was nothing else.
She collected all the balled up bits of paper and placed everything back into the box again, including the satchel with the rock inside. She fingered the cross, hesitating only a moment before placing it on herself. She never wore any jewelry. Until now.
"Christine," she called out. "Thank you for your time. I’m going to get going now."
Christine came back out this time, twirling around for Halva. "What do you think?” she trilled.
She had changed into a loose-fitting silvery dress which shimmered from every angle, and added a bright red lipstick to match her nails.
"It's very... very...shimmery," Halva said. She wanted to tell her the dress felt like someone staring at the ocean on a blindingly hot day. But she didn't think that was exactly what Christine wanted to hear.
Christine nodded vigorously. "Yes!! Harry won't be able to take his eyes off me!" she said excitedly, clapping her hands together. And she came over, tipping slightly in her four-inch red heels.
"Darling - do take care," she purred. "Call me if you need anything else."
"Yes," Halva smiled at her. "Actually..." she paused for a moment. "Did my mother say anything to you when she gave you the box? I mean, I know it was a long time ago..."
Christine squinted for a moment, as if trying to recall. "No... I don't think so. I'm sorry, sweetie, it was so long ago."
Halva shrugged, her hopes dashed. She forced a smile. "Thank you anyhow."
She went to put on her jacket and her boots. Before she left the doorway, Christine suddenly blurted out one word.
"Istanbul! I do remember that word. She'd said it... and it struck me as odd. That's where her favourite memories were from. Definitely not a dreamy vacation spot that I'd go to, but... your mother was really an adventurer before she got married, you know..."
Halva turned around to look at her. "Really?” she said. How strange. Now she really didn’t feel like they were talking about the same person. Her mother had never told her that she had ever ventured that far out in the world. She never even knew her mother to have gone out of state.
"Thank you, Christine," she said, as Christine blew her a little air kiss, and Halva continued back to her car, confused as ever.
CHAPTER 9
Istanbul. The land gave rise to exotic images of dry land and mysterious men and women in head scarves visiting mosques. Her mother had gone to Istanbul? How perplexing. Never once in her life did she recall her mother mentioning anything of the sort.
The stone was in her purse. She wondered about the heat that seemed to emanate from the stone. It was more than a little weird…But she’d felt it.
Who would know anything about my mother in Istanbul? she wondered. Christine mentioned that she'd gone prior to getting married. So... her father may not have ever been aware of her prior travels. Who here would have known anything?
Her flight was tomorrow morning at 8:30 a.m. So she had tonight, really, to find some answers.
She mentally racked through a sparse recollection of people her mother knew when she was young. She'd forgotten most of their names... but wait! Maybe she had gone before graduating from high school? Or shortly thereafter? She checked the time - it was just after 4 p.m. With any luck, the school would still be open.
She drove quickly towards Glenbrooks High.
Halva parked in the school parking lot, relieved to find that she wasn't the only car left in the lot. She looked around carefully; everything was almost as she'd remembered it to be. She attended the same scho
ol her mother had; and knew a few of the teachers that gave her mother praise, too much homework, and the odd time - detention.
Having dropped out before graduating, she hardly had any recollection of any good memories of her time there.
She pulled open the orange main doors and walked quickly through the hallway. A smattering of students sat in the front of the lockers, giving Halva shivers of the memories from long ago. How quickly time had passed. Once upon a time, had she really been as young? And now, her mother was gone... she gulped as she spotted the main office.
The door remained open; and she slowly stepped inside.
"Hello!" a warm voice greeted her. A lady, perhaps in her mid-thirties, smiled up at her behind a large desktop computer. Her brown curly ringlets bounced up and down as she continued typing. "How can I help you?"
"Um, well..." Halva suddenly felt ridiculous for coming in, but felt this was her only chance to find an answer - any answer at all. It was such a long shot. "Yes. My mother went to school here, and I just wanted to know about a trip she might have went on."
"Oh?" the lady frowned. "Have a seat." Halva saw her eyes glance towards the clock. "Most of our teachers have gone home now, but is there someone you were looking for specifically?"
"Oh." Halva fingered the necklace she now wore. She wasn’t used to it; but decided she liked the feel of it.
"Well... I mean, back in the '80s when my mom graduated, I just heard that she'd gone on an foreign trip, and wanted to know if that was a school-sponsored event. I don't have much else to go on... it's important, that's all," she suddenly kept going, afraid that if she stopped the woman would just give up on her and tell her to go home. "She went to Istanbul, and it was something I just heard of now from a friend of hers. I know she'd never do it on her own, she wouldn't have had the guts to. And she did it quite young, before she got married."
Before life changed, she thought. Before she had me. Before Dad started beating her and threatening her life.
The lady looked thoughtful as she listened. "I just started here not long ago," she said.
Halva nodded, disappointment setting in.
"However - " the woman - Halva saw her name now on the table, inscribed in a small black upright business card holder. Margaret Neelum.
"I have been going through some files and I can try to see if I can find what you're looking for."
"Alright." Halva stepped forward a little now, her previous doubts evaporating.
She saw a small settee behind her, and folding her skirt underneath her, sat down. "I'm so sorry to bother you at this hour," she said to the lady.
"Oh, not at all!" Margaret waved one hand in the air as the other clicked on the mouse. "It's nice to see someone who isn't demanding a memo or meeting or a parent demanding to see a teacher for the low grade their little pet was assigned,” she said, as she rolled her eyes.
Halva laughed. It was nice to know she hadn’t been the only one with school problems.
"Okay... so... I do see a list of school-sponsored trips that go back quite far. Mind you, trips out of state were few and far between, especially back then, so what was your mother's name?"
"Patrice Pierstadt," Halva said.
"No," Margaret said after a moment. "Nothing's coming up."
"Oh," Halva said. "Can you try her year of graduation? I believe it was 1982."
A moment later - "Yes!" Margaret said. "There was a trip sponsored back then by the head of the English department. To Istanbul, of all places!"
Halva felt a twinge of excitement. "Yes... that's the one!" she said, trying to keep her voice from rising too much. "Do you have any other details about the trip?"
Margaret frowned at the screen. "The details are quite sparse. I mean, the teacher, Spencer Russo, was with our school for about 12 years when he sponsored the trip. It looked like it was the first one he'd attempted... and oh wait!"
Halva waited.
"He was let go two months after the trip," she said, looking surprised. Then she looked up at Halva. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. She looked up at her. "This is all confidential information, but… ” she hesitated before continuing. “… I suppose because he's so obviously deceased, and you're asking - "
Halva just nodded solemnly. "Who would I even want to tell!"
Margaret looked slightly relieved at her words. "Alright," she said, resuming her review. "Looks like there were only 6 students who actually went on that trip. Since there were no other excursions that went so far after this one that year, or that decade, I would presume your mother was one of the six."
"Oh!" Halva was surprised at the revelation. Her mother - adventurous? Both her grandparents had already passed away by the time Halva was five, so she'd barely known anybody else who would have been close with her family.
"Oh... wait." Margaret looked stumped for a moment. "You know... I had to just look at something. Because you're asking, and because I can." She looked directly at Halva. "You're her daughter, correct?" Suddenly her eyes narrowed. "I just want to know who I’m talking to."
Halva's arms tightened on the chair. "Yes. I am. I can show you some identification if you'd like." Halva pulled out her driver's license and placed it on the table, regardless. She didn't know what Margaret was implying; but from the sound of her tone it felt like it would be worth Halva proving her identity lest she withheld something important from her.
Margaret studied it for a moment. "Alright," she said. "These records are so old, but again, confidentiality is important."
Halva nodded, her curiosity suddenly piquied with a small smidge of terror. What was she about to tell her?
“Mr. Russo was let go after one of the students came forward after the trip. There was a scandal.” Margaret paused, before continuing. “The student alleged that Mr. Russo had sexually harassed her. It actually became an international incident - she disappeared for days after the alleged incident. So Mr. Russo finally found himself at his wit's end and called the local police. The embassy got involved that an American student had gone missing, and the search party found her within a matter of days."
Halva found herself gripping the armrest in horror, her mouth dry. She already knew the answer.
"It was my mother," she rasped out.
Margaret looked at her sympathetically, and chose her next words slowly. "Yes. It was."
"And - and does it say anything about what happened there? Anything else?" Halva pressed. She felt like swinging a bat at something.
"No. There are no further notes on this file. I would suspect that there might have been a police report filed if you wanted further details." She turned her eyes away from the computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Halva," she said softly.
Halva felt numb. The more answers she wanted to find, the worse it seemed to get. "Thank you so much," she murmured to Margaret as she stood up, mechanically brushing the underside of her skirt as she rose. "I do appreciate your help." She extended her hand to shake Margaret's, and felt her warm, firm handshake. Human touch. There was something very sincere about Margaret that she liked.
"Thank you," she said again.
"You're welcome," Margaret called to her, as Halva turned to let herself out. Her head continued to spin with more confusion than before.
CHAPTER 10
Her mother had been assaulted. By one of her teachers, of all people. Her grip tightened on her handbag as she marched out the doors, not looking right nor left. She banged open the front doors and nearly knocked someone over.