Page 5 of Mac

I took a deep breath as I lifted off the top of the box. I could feel the stinging in my eyes the minute I looked at the photo sitting on top of everything else inside. It was a picture of my grandmother, Mom, and me. I couldn’t have been more than four years old. It looked like we were at a park, and the three of us were all smiling. I had no idea who had taken that picture. I couldn’t imagine it was my grandfather or uncle. They never spent time with us like that.

Seeing photos of my mom was always odd. I looked nothing like her. Where her hair was brown, mine was blonde. Her green eyes were dark and mysterious, while my eyes were bright blue. I knew I must have inherited those features from my father, but it felt strange to think I looked like someone I’d never met.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered to myself. Seeing that picture made me realize I’d left an entire box of photos hidden under my bed. I’d been in such a hurry to leave, I had completely forgotten about them. I used to look at pictures of my mother all the time when I was younger, until my grandfather caught me once and yelled at me for crying over a dead woman who hadn’t loved me enough to stick around. Those were his words, not mine, but they had a profound effect on me growing up.

I had to get those pictures back, but Stu had made it clear I wasn’t welcome there anymore. I would need to think of a way to get those back someday.

I put the photo aside and started looking through some of the other items. My grandmother had saved the baby book my mom had begun to fill out. I flipped through the pages, smiling at the random things she decided were important enough to commemorate in there.

Toward the bottom of the box, there was a large envelope labeled “For Kate,” in my grandmother’s cursive handwriting. Confused, I opened the flap and shook out what was inside.

It was a letter folded in half, three pages long. The paper was soft and faded, like it’d been handled many times before.By Grandma?That gave me pause, wondering if that had been the case, why she’d never said anything to me. I shook my head and unfolded the letter, which had handwriting I didn’t recognize but quickly realized had to be my mother’s.

The ink on the letter was slightly gray, and there were random smudges all over the first page.

Dear Katie Bug,

I can still remember feeling your little feet kicking, so antsy to be free and so full of life.

You’re a miracle.Mylittle miracle, the one thing that truly made me happy to be alive. The only thing that ever mattered to me in this unhappy world of mine.

There were days when I was sad, and everything was overwhelming, but you somehow made all the bad thoughts and feelings disappear with just a smile. I wished for so much when you were born, for you to have all the things I never had…

Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t attempt to wipe them away. When I’d opened the box, I hadn’t expected to find anything left of my mother, and my chest hurt with an old loss I’d never fully reconciled. Grandma never spoke about her after she’d killed herself, not even on her deathbed. I supposed the grief had always been too painful, even after all these years.

I took a deep, calming breath and continued onto the next page of the letter:

I am so sorry for leaving you. Being your mom was the only thing that ever brought me any joy. Please know that I love you with all of my heart, but I just couldn’t go on.

You have done nothing wrong, my perfect little girl. And I hope, someday, you’ll understand that this was my choice and my choice alone. There was nothing you or your grandma could have done—it was just my time.

My only regret is that I won’t see the beautiful woman you’ll become but I will watch from above in Heaven. I will always be with you in spirit, never doubt that...

Lastly, I wanted to apologize for never having told you about your father. I know you'll be curious about him as you grow up. I met him when I was young and stupid. Your grandparents thought it was best to keep your father’s identity a secret from you considering the kind of man he was and the people he associated with. It seemed sensible at the time, and I was scared, but now, I don’t know if that was the right thing to do.

Enclosed is your birth certificate. His name is listed as your father if you decide to search for him once you’re an adult. He didn’t abandon you—I never told him you existed. Last I knew, he was living just outside of Las Vegas. If you can find a motorcycle club called the Desert Sinners, you should be able to find him.

I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve nothing less than being happy and loved.

Love, Mom

My vision blurred, my tears creating dots all over the letter, which I now wondered if the smudges were created by the tears of my mother when she wrote this final letter. This letter was her suicide note—to me.

I held the letter against my chest, sobbing. My entire world was once again flipped upside down. Sniffing, I wiped at my eyes and re-read the letter at least a half dozen more times until I’d calmed down. I never thought anyone would give me any information about my father. So many questions swarmed my clogged and tired brain. Did I want to know anything about him? Or had so much time passed that it didn’t matter anymore? What if I did find him? Would he accept me or toss me away, as I’d always assumed he had? Fear and hope clouded every one of my thoughts. But to know I hadfamilyout there...the possibilities were overwhelming.

The third page was, indeed, my birth certificate. My hands were shaking, and my heartbeat sounded loud in my ears as my eyes scanned the whole document. There it was...all the information regarding my birth. I saw my nameKathryn Marie Nixonand my birthday of March 26th. A couple of lines further down, I saw what I had never known before, my father’s name.Samuel Andersen.

I waited to see if I felt any different, finally knowing his name after almost twenty-one years. But I didn’t. I was still me, except now I had this information that I had no clue what to do with.

There wasn’t much else in the box. Mostly birthday cards and a couple of trinkets from when I was a kid. At the very bottom was a small, heart-shaped locket attached to a chain. When I opened it, I saw a picture of my mom on one side and a picture of me on the other. I unclasped the necklace and put it on. It was simple yet beautiful.

I put everything except my birth certificate back into the box. I placed the document on my bedside table. I would decide later what to do with that information.

Mindlessly, I unpacked my suitcase and put away my clothes in the small dresser. A look at the clock told me I only had twenty minutes before Jonathan and I were supposed to go out. I took a quick shower, threw my hair up in a messy bun, put on minimal makeup—mostly to hide the redness from crying—then dressed in jeans and a sweater.

Right on time, I heard a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said as I pulled on my brown boots.