Truth Undressed (Exposed Series, #3)
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Authors: Hazel Kelly
Truth
Undressed
Hazel
Kelly
©
2014 Hazel Kelly
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied,
or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your
support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
All
characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is
purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
“A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not
having lived it.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
1: Kate
My Mom had barely said two words to me since Dawn died. Not that
she hadn’t tried. It’s just that every time she opened her mouth nothing came
out. Then she’d just look at me sadly, hang her head, and walk away.
I couldn’t imagine how much she must have been hurting. After
all, Dawn was her only sister and she’d been blowing her off for the last ten
years. But that was her problem.
I had my own shit to think about. I mean, Dawn was the best
thing that had happened to me since I started high school. My heart already
ached from missing her, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to watch
the life drip out of her into the plastic bags that hung around her bed.
Of course, I was scared, too. Because I needed her. She was the
reason I hadn’t thrown up in weeks. I was worried I would start again if I couldn’t
talk to her when I needed help. Especially now that I’d moved back to where it
all started.
As soon as I got home, I could feel how toxic the environment
was for me. It was like I was allergic to something in the walls, but instead
of a rash I just broke out with this intense urge to binge. At least I
recognized it now that I’d spent some time away.
It never occurred to me before that an environment could make
you sick, but I swear the stress of just being there was exhausting. To anyone
else it would seem like a regular suburban family home. But to me it was a
house of pain, the birthplace of the darkest feelings I had ever experienced.
So no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable there. I couldn’t stop
thinking I’d be better off anywhere else.
Fortunately, a lot of visitors kept coming to pay their condolences.
Which meant that stuffing my face and disappearing to throw up for two hours
wasn’t an option. So that was good. Plus, it turned out sneaking shots of gifted
vodka gave me the same numbness I was after anyway.
Annie and her boyfriend, Rob, brought it for me when they came
over to pay their respects. She concealed the bottle of Smirnoff in a bag that
contained “a few books and a sweatshirt she’d borrowed.”
My Mom was so grateful that someone came to check on me that she
didn’t even make a crack about how much they smelled like cigarettes. So I knew
I was free to start hitting the bottle. Plus, she was too drunk on her own
grief to pay attention to me. And my Dad wouldn’t have said shit because it
would’ve just further upset her.
The important thing was that I was doing my best to cope with
being home, and if my Mom needed anything, I was there for her. And I wasn’t
going anywhere until she was okay. Which looked like it wasn’t going to be
anytime soon. I mean, her pain wasn’t just inside. It was all over her face,
and no amount of anti-aging cream was ever going to erase her frown lines from
the last few days.
Thank god for Tina who took care of everything after Dawn died. If
it weren’t for her, my brother and my Dad probably would’ve starved to death, and
my Mom would’ve been walking around half-dressed with mascara all over her
face.
Tina even arranged for Dawn’s cremation. And afterwards, she decided
it would be good for her to stay at our house until she figured out what her
final resting place should be. So Dawn wasn’t even technically gone. She was
chilling in a red urn on the mantle in the living room where no one would knock
her down.
Maybe that was why I hadn’t cried. Because she was still sort of
eerily present. Or maybe I was just broken. I mean, I cried when a dog on TV needed
surgery but not when my Aunt died? What the fuck was wrong with me?
By the late afternoon, everyone besides Tina had gone. Even my
brother left for an “emergency” glee club meeting. Though I suspect he was just
off with his girlfriend.
Meanwhile, my Mom and Dad were sitting silently at the kitchen
table in front of a pile of uneaten sandwiches and two cups of cold tea. My
Mom was staring into space doing that gulping thing where she acts like she’s
about to say something but never does. I think my Dad was just sticking around
in case she actually decided to speak and because he didn’t know what else to
do.
Obviously, I had no interest in being around that. Not when I
could head upstairs for another swig with my own partner in grief. Which is
exactly what I was about to go do when Tina asked if she could talk to me in
the living room before she left. And since I knew the bottle in my closet
wasn’t going anywhere, I agreed.
The fact that we made it to the living room and actually sat on
the couch was further evidence that my Mom was not okay. Because as far as she
was concerned, the living room was just a decoration. The tables and couch were
not there to be used or enjoyed. They were merely symbolic of how nice things could
be if my brother and my Dad and I didn’t exist. Which, in my opinion, seemed to
contradict the fact that she supposedly liked us.
Anyway, since Tina didn’t know the rules, I joined her in the
living room, and relished christening the couch. Though I don’t think she
realized it was a big deal. I kinda got the sense that all her rooms were
living rooms.
“How are you doing, Kate?” she asked, putting her purse on the
floor next to her feet.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to spend time with you before.
Under different circumstances.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I know Dawn really enjoyed the time she spent with you
recently. It meant a lot to her that you were by her side through all this.”
“It meant a lot to me, too.”
Tina’s eyes were sad and puffy. I guess Dawn had been her best
friend for a long time. I was a little embarrassed that she was worried about
me considering the fact that she knew Dawn so much better than I did.
“Before she died, Dawn talked to me about what she wanted me to
do with all her things.”
I nodded.
“And she wants me to give just about everything to you.”
“To me?”
Tina nodded.
“What do you mean everything?”
“Well, her clothes and her jewelry for starters, if you want them.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” She smoothed her skirt down.
“Wow.” My mind flashed immediately to a silver Tiffany necklace Dawn
had often worn. It was so pretty the way it bounced along her collarbone, I
even tried it on once when she wasn’t home. “That was nice of her.”
“She also wants you to have the apartment.”
“The apartment?” I didn’t know what to say. “Does my Mom know that?”
“She does,” Tina said, speaking as deliberately as if she were
recording a book on tape. “And since I’m the co-signer on the apartment, I can
help you when you decide what you want to do with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means if you want to sell it-”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to sell it.”
She crossed her legs towards me and smiled. “Dawn thought you might
want to live there yourself. Or if you go away to school, you could rent it out
to earn some money.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to decide now.”
“Okay, good. Thanks.” That sounded like a decision I should make
sober, preferably with my parents help.
“There’s one more thing Dawn wanted you to have.”
I looked back and forth between Tina’s eyes. “What’s that?”
“It’s something she was working really hard on and-.”
“What?”
Tina pulled a thick manila envelope out of her purse and put it
in her lap. It had a letter taped to the outside with my name written on it in
Dawn’s handwriting. “I know she wished she had the time and strength to give it
to you before she died”
“What is it?” I asked, leaning forward.
“It’s the truth,” Tina said, handing the parcel to me. “She
wanted you to have the truth.”
2: Dawn
Dear Kate,
All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and have everything. While
happiness takes time, I think you’re finally learning to choose it. And as far
as having everything, the only thing you’re short of is the truth. Which you
deserve.
I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but it was always
going to be too late or too early. And it was never going to be convenient or
easy for anyone.
When I was in my twenties, I got pregnant. Fortunately, the baby
was born out of a committed, loving relationship. Unfortunately, it was an
accident. And because I was an addict- addicted not only to my selfish
lifestyle but to a variety of drugs (that for the record, I did not indulge in
during my pregnancy)- I was in no position to have a baby. I was still a baby
myself.
When my boyfriend at the time encouraged me to get an abortion, I
refused, and our relationship fell apart. As a result, it became even more
impossible for me to even consider trying to support a child.
The night I gave birth there was a torrential storm. There was lightening,
wind, lashing rain, the whole lot. At the time, I remember thinking the weather
was a perfect reflection of what was going on inside me.
Before I gave birth, I found a couple I felt I could trust to
raise my little girl. They couldn’t get pregnant themselves. But they were
happily married, young, energetic, and eager to start a family. And as painful
as it was to admit, there was no question that they were in a better position
to care for my baby than I was.
The night I had the baby, I was full of hormones. And when I saw
her beautiful flushed face, felt her soft fingertips, and smelled her thin
hair, I wanted to keep her. But I didn’t have the guts to say so. Just like I
didn’t have any of the other things she would need from me. So I took the easy
way out- even though it didn’t feel that way at the time- and I handed her
over.
That baby was you.
I know there were so many times I could have told you. So many
times I should’ve. But I didn’t want to fuck you up. That’s why I did what I
did in the first place. And maybe you’re still not old enough to understand.
Maybe you’ll never forgive me. But if you’re angry, be angry at me. Not Carol.
She never did anything but love you, and she took care of you better than I ever
would’ve been able to.
