The Key - Part 2 (Missing You)

This is for 3WW here. This week's words are: Caught, Eager, Perfume.
This is the continuation of this story.

"Parlez-vous anglais?" I asked in my shaky French. The guy at the front desk was wearing a smirk on his face but he was eager to please in his red jacket and black pants. In a thick English accent, he replied, "Yes, Miss. I speak English. I am hotel manager, Michel Rodolph. Can I may be of help?" His smirk vanished once those words popped out of his mouth. I was glad i didn't have to speak any more French. I would have embarrassed myself more.

I tried to smile pleasantly but the scent of the heavy perfume from the lady behind me caused my head to spin. I asked him if my mother had been there. I told him I was looking for her and that this was the last place that I knew she had been. He went through his sign-in book looking for her name. After turing many pages, he exclaimed,"No, sorry, no Rebecca Anthony. Sorry." I was silent for a moment, desperately thinking if this is it.

"Wait, check for a Rebecca Morgan," I said looking him eagerly. I can see his eyes flickering with pity. He checked the book again. "Oh, Yes, a Miss Rebecca Morgan. She was here until last month." He said with a smile. I asked about a Joseph Anthony who was also looking for my mother, but he couldn't find his name anywhere in the sign-in book.

I told him I would like a room, preferably the same one as my mother. It wasn't possible, that room was currently occupied. How about the room next door? Yes, that is fine I told him. I signed in and paid with cash.

A skinny guy with a red hat and in a red uniform helped me with my luggage. I took only what I needed and that one luggage was all my possession. It took me fifteen years to save enough to get here. I only wished I was earlier. I caught a glimpse of myself by in the reflection of the elevator doors. My curly hair was a mess and my eyes seem to sagged, looking very tired with a sad look upon my face. At 24, I was looking more like a 30 year old.

Up in my room, I didn't unpack knowing I would not stay more than a day. I took a warm shower and went straight to bed. Going from the warm weather to this cold climate had caused by body to weaken. My head was throbbing, I was so exhausted from the eight hour flight. In my dream I saw my mother drinking tea with my father. They were having a pleasant time, under a big willow tree, just laughing. I was jumping rope in the background, I was eight years old with two ponytails. Then mother disappeared, followed by father. I stopped jumping. I was left alone, staring at the empty chairs. Someone grabbed me and dropped me into a deep, dark well. I screamed with no sound coming out.

I woke up in a pool of sweaty sheets. In the dark, my mind succumbed to my weak body. I ran to the bathroom and down the drain, my dinner went. I was all sweaty and I felt like someone was pressing their hand on my forehead refusing to let me stand up. I dragged myself back in bed. I was afraid this might happen. The doctor was so clear that I shouldn't travel. But what choice do I have? All my life I had slaved over aggravating jobs just so that I can afford to look for my parents. I wasn't going to let a little ulcer stopped me. Not this far.

A couple of trips to the bathroom empty out my stomach but my head still felt cloudy and heavy. I ordered dinner but couldn't keep the food down. For two days I had to stayed in bed, I just could not move.

On the third day, I had no choice but to call for help. The manager, whose name I have forgotten, was unexpectedly kind as he came by my room with a doctor. I was given a shot of some kind. I couldn't even speak, nor able to muster any thoughts. I laid there for another day, dreaming empty dreams.

At last I was well enough to leave. I paid my bills at the desk but was left with only my plane ticket home and no money. Home, where is that? I guess I have been searching far too long to remember where it was. I cannot even remember what anything look like.

The hotel manager whose name I finally find out was Michel Rodolph, greeted me at the door. The bell boy had taken ill and Michel was the only one working that day. I was glad to see him even if I didn't show it. He asked no questions, took my bag and smiled at me. At the hotel front entrance, he gave me a small package with my name on it. He had forgotten that he had it. It was left for me by my mother. I thanked him and he wished me well and we shook hands. I felt the warm touch and immediately wonder why I didn't notice how nice his eyes look. My thoughts were always fill with my parents that the the thought of ever falling in love had never occur to me. I got in the taxi and waved goodbye.

The package contained one small box and one letter. My flight was delayed and so I read the letter sitting in those metal chairs.

To my dear daughter Barbara or Bobbie as I usually called you,

I hope you are well. As I write this, I am somewhere else. Don't try to find me. I knew the many times that I've left you, had caused a great deal of pain and empty hopes but I hope this letter will mend some of those holes that I have created.

Since you are reading this, that means you have gotten the papers from the safe box. I knew I should have told you about your biological father. But I was afraid you would hate me or your father, Joseph, who loves you very much even when he knew he was not your biological father. We agreed, Joseph and I, that we will tell you when the time is right. But I could never muster up enough courage to tell you. So here I will tell you now.

Your biological father's name was Gerald Morgan. After you were born, Gerald left for the war. I could not stop him from going. He was very determined to fight for our country and for us. A few months after he had left, I received a telegram stating that he was killed in action but I did not believe it. I had to see him for myself. When I saw his lifeless body, I knew he was gone. What could I do with just you and me, alone with no other family around? I could not let you live without a father and I couldn't have provided for you alone. I met Joseph a few weeks later. He was in one of Gerald's group and had carried Gerald's body home. He didn't have much but he was very kind and he loves us and I thought that was enough for me to forget Gerald. I married Joseph the next year. It took some time for me to decide but I knew I had to, for your sake.

I couldn't stayed with you and your father - as my heart was not in it. I missed Gerald. I thought if I kept moving, I would find solace, something that can erase the pain but in the end I lost myself. I didn't want you to see me like that.

I am sorry I was not there with you all those years. But I knew Joseph was a good father to you and he always gushed about when he wrote to me.

I am sorry I was not around long enough to really know you. Of cause I needed money but that was not the only reason I came back. I came back for you. I asked you to come with me but you wanted to stay with your father. I knew he needed you so I did not persist.

As I waved goodbye to you at the station, I knew I would not be seeing you again. And so I left you everything in a safe box. I had to change to another box under your name so that you would be able to find it and so that your father would not find me. Everything in there is true. I hope at least if you knew the truth, you would hate me.

I saw your father, Joseph, today. I told him I wasn't coming back. He was devastated. He was mad. I had to leave the hotel in secret. I knew that I have hurt him but I could never have stay with him and be happy. I could never love him. He knew that even before we said our vows. We had agreed that I can leave anytime. But he had gone mad - this obsession to keep me with him. I felt I could not stay even for you.

I leave you this ring which Gerald had given me on our wedding day as my last gift to you. I will not be contacting you or sending you any more letters. I do not wish to be found and had changed my name and hope you would not try to find me. I think it is best this way.

I wish you all the happiness in the world. I love you and will forever remember those nights we shared talking away until the early morning hour. I regret not being in your life but hope you will understand. Please understand.

Love,
your mother, Rebecca

I felt sad reading this but knew it was for the best. At least I knew she remembered me. Still, I wanted to see her even for one last time. I stared at the people around the airport and wonder if any of them is missing someone right now.

Read part 3 here.