The Dawn of Realization.

Chapter Seven

     I stared at my mom across the dinner table, as I chewed the dry chicken she had made. She was never a good cook, but no one dared to tell her otherwise. But I just couldn't stop thinking of Wendy and the things she had said. Were any of it true? Or was it just lies to fill my grieving heart? I just couldn't nip the irking feeling that it was all right. That my father wasn't the man I had thought he was and my mother wasn't grieving over his death but the money instead. 

     I hadn't even noticed I had stopped eating for quite some time until my mom looked up from her place and caught me staring. 

     " Dawn, " She said softly. " You should eat. "

     " Was dad cheating on you?" I asked, so suddenly that I shocked myself as well as my mother. She dropped her fork, eyes wide, and licked her lips. Her eyes darted around the room for a few minutes. 

     " Why would you get such an idea, Dawn? " She asked, frazzled. 

     " Mom. " I said, quietly. She sighed, bringing her palms to her eyes, running her fingers through her hair. 

     " Yeah, Dawn. He was cheating on me. " She was able to drag out of herself. 

     " For how long? " I asked, I wanted to know everything now. I had to know why, when, what, and where. My father had been such a good dad to me, how could he do this to my mother; his wife?

     " Three years. " She whispered. " Three years. " 

     " Why didn't you tell me? " I was curiously hurt.  

     " Because it didn't concern you, Dawn. It was between me and your father. " She stated and for some reason that one sentence infuriated me so. 

     " Didn't concern me?" I said. " Didn't concern me? I'm your daughter, you were my parents! Anything you do concerns me, especially this!"

     " Dawn, sit down. " Mom said and it was then I realized I had stood up angrily. I quieted down and took my seat. " We didn't tell you, because he was still a good father to you." 

     It was quiet for a few minutes and I chewed on my bottom lip with anxiety. I tapped my fork against the edge of the dinning table, bumped my knee. 

     " Is it true? " I asked, needing to know one more thing. 

     She sighed, " is what true? "

     " Am I the beneficiary on dad's will?" 

     " You are, but you the money is going in to an account until you're 18 years old. " My mom stated. 

     " I'm 18 in a month. " I commented. 

     " I know. " She nodded. I was surprised my mother was telling me all of this since it had been bugging me for days.  I was turning 18 soon and I wondered if that bothered her to some extent. I looked at her, seeing her eyes look back at me. I realized she wasn't the only one keeping secrets. 

     " There was a note. " I admitted. 

     " What?" She grew confused. 

     " Dad wrote a note before he... " I trailed off, looking away. " I took it. " 

     " Dawn. " She was a aghast for a moment. 

     I pushed myself away from the table and stood up, motioning for her to follow me to my bedroom- she did. I kneeled down, pulling the drawer out, pushing up, and pulling the crumpled note out and unfolding it. I stared down at the scritchy scratchy words that rambled across the page. My fingers shook as they gripped the page. 

     I handed the letter to my mom and her eyes desperately began reading. I watched as her eyebrows drew together in thought. She pursed her lips, finishing the page, and looked up at me. Suddenly, she turned away and walked out. I followed her over to her bedroom as she rifled through some of her own drawers. 

     She pulled out a Hall Mark card that she had received a few Valentine Days ago from my dad. Her eyes flitted from the note to the greeting card, back and forth. Her hands shook violently. 

     I walked over and took the card and note from her hand, looking between the two like she had done. I saw why she had became so distressed so fast. In my peripheral vision, I saw her sit on the edge of her, with her hand pressed against her mouth. She took heavy, deep breaths. 

     On the Valentine's Day card, my fathers neat handwriting scrolled across the page in pristine order. On the suicide note the handwriting was scrawling down the scrap piece of paper in drawn out letters and messy loops and harsh lines and halts half- way through. 

     They were not written by the same person. 

     I am so sorry it has come to this, I read the note, but this must be done. Things cannot go on anymore like this, this was necessary. This was in every ones best interest. To Sharon and Dawn, I am so sorry. 

     I laid the note down on the bed, a sudden realization coming over me and I was filled with complete and utter terror. 

     " This isn't a suicide note, " I licked my lips, " it's a letter from the murderer. "

     My mom cried and I collapsed on the bed next to her. All this time, I had been holding the note close to my heart, because it was all I had left of my father, when all I was doing was keeping his killer closer. How had I not seen this before? How I had I not noticed that this hand writing was different than my dads? How had I been so blind? 

     " He knows us. " Mom said, her voice far away. 

     " He's sorry for us. " I looked down at the floor, feeling as if it had become miles away and I was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to dive headfirst in to something I wasn't prepared for. That's what I had done.  

     I felt my mom grasp my hand, pressing it down into the mattress. We sat there for what seemed like forever, just taking in what we had learned. She turned her head to stare at me, brushing my hair back. 

     " I'm so sorry, Dawn. " She said. " I didn't believe you. "

     I couldn't say anything at all. I just sat there in dumb silence, ashamed of myself for not figuring it out sooner. I couldn't give up my search now. Not this far in.