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Twenty-seven years passed. I’m 44 now. My daughters are adults.
Two years ago, somehow, life sank me.
***
Mae seriously fell ill at 25. It started out light. He then got complicated.
Doctor visits became treatment. Treatments became endless bills.
He worked longer hours, accepted extra jobs, and cut expenses on everything.”
But it was still not enough.
I was still feeling drowned.
Life always found a way to drag me down.
***
That morning, I was sitting at my desk, looking at another expired delivery notice, trying to figure out what I might be putting off.
At that moment, the door opened.
A man in a dark gray suit came in and headed to my cubicle.
“Are you Nora?” he asked, stopping by my side.
“Yes,” I answered with skepticism.
He stepped forward and placed a small worn box on my desk.
“My name is Carter,” he said. I represent Arthur’s inheritance.
“Are you Nora?”
The name came to mind instantly. The man I had known for thirty seconds in 1998. I had never forgotten it and I had always wondered what would have become of him. I never saw him again.
“He spent years looking for her,” Carter said. He asked me to hand this over to him in person.
I felt trembling in my hands when I grabbed the box.
“He left instructions. It was just for you.”
The box creaked gently as it slowly opened.
I didn’t realize that what I was about to see would show that the homeless man I met 27 years ago wasn’t who I believed.
The name hit me instantly.
Inside the box was a worn-out leather notebook.
I opened it carefully. Each page had dates and, next to each, a brief note.
The first one left me paralyzed.
« November 12, 1998: Girl named Nora. Two babies. He gave me 10 dollars.” Don’t forget.
My vision clouded instantly and I took my hand to my mouth.
I turned the page.