[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Before: The Big Envelope


Ashley

I was sitting at home going through a stack of mix CDs, trying to pick a wedding song for Chris and I, when my apartment door buzzer sounded, echoing through the room. I pushed the headphones aside and hit the call button, "Who is it?" I asked. I really wasn't expecting anybody. Chris was out playing golf with the guys, and I hadn't made any plans with Nick.

"Delivery service," came the reply.

"Delivery? I didn't order anything, "I said.

"Mail delivery."

"Be right down." I decided to air on the side of caution. I put on my shoes and shuffled down the hallway carrying my keys, bounced down the stairs, and pulled open the door to the front step. He was dressed in the same clothes Chris wore everyday to work and holding up a big envelope addressed to me. "Thank you," I said, signing for the delivery confirmation.

"You're Chris' girl," he said, nodding at me.

"Yeah," I said, surprised.

"He's got a big picture of you in his truck," said the guy, "I'm Rick. We work together. Anyways," he waved. "See ya."

He trotted away.

Chris kept a picture of me in his truck? I smiled to myself, at what something like that meant, and I ducked back into the building. I pictured Chris riding around in his big stupid Fed-Ex truck, staring at a picture of me to keep him from going postal. I felt special.

So special in fact that it wasn't until I was halfway up the stairs to my apartment that I even looked at the return address on the big envelope.

But when I did I almost choked.

It was my paperwork from the group home.

I rushed up the remainder of the stairs and shoved my key into the door, leaping into the dining room like some kind of wild gazelle. I held the big envelope up and was about to rip it open when something inside of me stalled and I dropped it onto the table, staring at it, like it was some kind of huge, formidable creature.

"Holy shit," I mumbled.

On the other side of a thin layer of tree fiber lay the secret identity of my parents. My actual parents, not some people who agreed to take me for a summer or a week or two. But actual human beings who once had sex that nine months later produced me.

Okay so that was probably not the best way to think about it, I thought, kind of grossed out.

But none the less, there it was, right in front of me.

This had been so easy that for a while, when I was waiting for the information packet to be sent to me, I'd wondered why I hadn't done it sooner. Now that it was laying there in front of me, I knew. Because I was scared shitless out of my mind to know the truth about who had abandoned me.

I reached in my pocket and dialed the first number that came to mind.

Not my fiance.

Nick.

"Hello?" he said. There was a funny rushing sound behind his voice, and he was kind of yelling the greeting.

"Nick? It's Ashley."

"Oh... hey..." he said. He hesitated, then I heard him cover the mouthpiece, "Hey I gotta take this. I'll catch up." There was a pause, then he said, "Hey, what's up?"

"If you're busy, it can wait," I said. Then, "No, that's a lie, it can't wait. Can you come over like right now?"

Nick was quiet for a second, "Are you okay?" he asked. He was gauging whether he needed to say yes or not. I could tell.

"I got the stuff from my group home," I said, "And I can't open it."

"Open it!" he urged, excitement climbing into his voice.

"I can't!" I said, panic climbing into mine.

"Okay," he said. "Give me like twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. I'll be right there."

I hung up feeling better because Nick would be there soon and Nick would open the envelope and Nick would tell me if the line where my parents names were had serial killers or prostitutes or canibals or the unibomber listed.

Nick would make it okay.




Nick

I rubbed my shin with my driver. How the hell was I going to do this?

I glanced at the figures way off across the field, Chris and two of his buddies. I didn't want to tell Chris where I was headed, didn't want him or his buddies to be all freaked out because Ashley had called me instead of him. Of course, she had no way of knowing that we were together.

After all, Chris had bumped into me on the golf course at random.

I walked back over to them and Chris looked up as I approached, "Booty call?" he asked, grinning.

"Sort of," I replied. I paused, "Look, guys, I forfeit, a'ight? I gotta go."

One of the bigger guys Chris hangs out with looked disappointed, "But then it's an unofficial game," he complained.

"Bros before hos, man," whined a smaller dude.

Chris laughed, "Nahh, it's okay. Let's not pick on Nick," he grinned at me, "It's been awhile since he got any." He paused, "Is it that Peyton chick?"

I had a feeling he wouldn't leave me alone unless it was. "Yeah," I lied.

"Go knock her socks off," Chris said. "And her bra and her thong and whatever else she may or may not be wearing." He winked and fist-bumped the big guy.

"I owe y'all a rematch," I said. I shoved my driver into my golf bag and chucked the thing over my shoulder, and started back towards the club. The moment I got out of sight, I ran like a bat out of hell. By the time I got back to my car, I'd sworn to God to get back into working out, and my lungs burned like hell. I shoved my clubs int othe back seat and drove pell-mell to Ashley's house.

Ashley buzzed me in and answered the door at the top of her steps (which refreshed the burning in my lungs). The big envelope sat on her dining room table all by itself, unopened. She stood about three feet away from it when we turned toward it. "You gotta open it," she pleaded, "It's killing me."

I stepped up to the table and picked it up. Inside, papers slid as I uprighted it. I stared at the address label. "You should," I said.

"I can't," Ashley answered. "Every time I even touch the stupid thing I feel like I'm gonna puke. You gotta do it. Please."

"Okay," I said.

I turned the envelope over, my fingers grabbed hold of the pull tab that would release access to the envelope's contents, and I ripped it off. The flap opened and Ashley gasped. She had her hands up over her mouth and nose and her eyes were so wide they looked like they were about to bug out of her head.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she whispered.

I could tell her heart was pounding.

Mine was, too.

I tilted the envelope upright and pulled out a blue binder. The kind with those little teeth that hold papers inside it. I put the envelope down on the table and Ashley quickly snatched it up, holding it to her chest like a security blanket. I opened the folder.

The front page was in a sheet protector. It was a green, state-stamped piece of paper.

A birth certificate.

And on it, just next to the declaration of "JACKSON, FEMALE" as Ashley's official birthname, was the name, birthdates, and signatures of both of her biological parents.