Elisabeth Marie

Chapter Nineteen

Maybe I'm overreacting. Mother wouldn't lie to me. The rest of the birth certificate had been scribbled out with sharpie. I gently removed the birth certificate and set it down on the ground next to the shoebox lid before turning back to the box. It was a photograph of Mother and the man who she had a picture of in our living room- my father. It looked like the picture had been taken years before either of them would have been able to get married, though.

Underneath the photograph was another photograph, of me, father, and some lady. Clearly she wasn't Mother. Maybe she's Mother's sister? My aunt. That was probably it.

Now the two pictures and the birth certificate were all sitting on the ground next to the lid. There was a growing pit in my stomach. I'm not supposed to be doing this...

It is about me, though, I reasoned. So it's okay if I look at these things for a few more minutes, right?

Next was a letter addressed to Sharon Johnson. "Mother," I said aloud. It had obviously been opened many times. The creases seemed weak, like the letter could tear at any second. This paper had clearly been read many times. I smoothed it out very carefully before reading the messy handwriting.

Sharon,

I'm so, so very sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I ended up doing so anyways. I would like to take all the blame, but, quite frankly, that wouldn't be true. You have taken this much too far. Sharon, you're not a bad person, but you're making many bad decisions. I don't know where you are; I hope this will be forwarded to whatever address you're living at now. I would like you to know that Rose and I now have three beautiful children; baby Lissie was born just a year ago. I have moved on, even if you haven't. I hope you can do what I have done, and have a good rest of your life.

There was a signature somewhere at the bottom, but it had been scribbled out with what looked like at least three different pens. Oh goodness. Somebody's going to get it.

Then I looked at the date. It was the year when I would have been one. Or... maybe someone already did get it. That was awhile ago.

I wouldn't have wanted to get on Mother's bad side. I felt sorry for whoever this guy was. Either way, the letter was probably just some high school sweetheart who had broken up with Mother- it wasn't very important to me. Lissie was a cute name for a daughter, though.

I folded the letter back up and looked into the now half-empty box. There was no mention of the man who Mother had been married to before he passed away. Maybe Mother was still hurting so much from the loss of him that she couldn't bear to have any of his things. Poor Mother. That only made me feel worse about going through her things.

Next in the box was a set of clothes that looked like they were fit for a three-year-old girl. They looked very dirty, as if they had been worn for days without being changed. Along with the normal dirtiness that can be expected from a pair of baby clothes, there was a ton of mud, some perfume, and bleach stains all over the poor dress. Plus there were places where the fabric was worn thin. There was an E written in sharpie on the tag, but it didn't look like Mother's handwriting.

E for Elisabeth.

There was a yellow and gray striped bag (just a little one) that had some diapers still inside it and, I discovered, another letter, this time written to... a babysitter?

Hi Joanne, attached are the basic things you need to know when you're taking care of Lissie. She loves Mac and Cheese, but only with the extra cheese sprinkled on top. So feel free to make that for dinner. If she says she doesn't want to wear a specific pair of pajamas, don't make her; she's very specific about making sure she always looks pretty. She likes to play princess, so...