If I give words to these events - to these things... they existed. They happened. If the created words never reach another's ear, if I do not write them on a page... they never happened. Who is to say they did?

This is how I choose to exist. My form fills the void of the unspoken words and chokes on its existence.

                                                                                                                                -Beth, Diary entry, May 15th, 1996

It had been raining steadily. Our dirt driveway turned into a small pond. The trailer was dark, not even the porch light was on. I bolted for the front door before getting soaked and instinctively checked for Pa's boots by the door once inside. The space was vacant. Good. That means he went to work.

The habit of checking for Pa's boots started when he started drinking. Really drinking. This was after they lost the last baby. Mama was absent in her world of pain, so she turned a blind eye to how many empty bottles were in the trash. If he made it to work, she didn't bother him. Course, once in a while he didn't make it. One of those days spent sleeping it off cost him the promotion he was due for. So, that's when I started checking for his boots by the door.

I turned on the hall light and poked my head in Johnny's bedroom. My heart swelled at how small and innocent he looked in his dinosaur pajamas, his legs and arms sprawled in every direction on top of his comforter.

I tapped on Mama's door next and called out softly, "Mama?" When no response came, I eased open the door, glad to find it unlocked.

"Mama?" I repeated and stepped inside her bedroom.

She lay still under her crocheted brown and yellow multi-colored blanket, a dim light from her nightstand lamp casting a green glow around the room. Mama's form was curled up as if asleep, but her eyes - wide open - stared at the opposite wall.

I knelt down next to her. I noticed her small wastebasket next to the nightstand was full of crumpled tissues; the box discarded on the floor next to it.

"Mama, you need anything?" I whispered.

She shook her head and tugged her floral robe tighter around her neck. It was then I noticed the worn shoebox sitting next to her on the quilt.

She followed my gaze and with a heavy sigh murmured, "I don't regret having you so young." Her eyes turned wistful as she grabbed my hand. "You were the best thing that ever happened to me. But..." She motioned to the shoebox. "Sometimes I think it happened to them because God was punishing me."

"Oh, Mama..." I started, but she held up a hand as her lip quivered. "I had you out of wedlock." She nodded her head, more to herself than to me. "God giveth, and God taketh away."

Yes, and you won't tell me who my biological father is.

"It wasn't your fault," I said instead, and went to hug her, but she brushed me off.

"God doesn't give us more than we can handle..." Her lips continued to move listlessly but without sound.

I bit my lip as I picked up one of the sonogram pictures from the box. I flipped it over to see the word June written on the back with the date, May 6th, 1994. This one broke you, I thought as I looked at Mama.

She carried baby June longer than the others. But she was also the fifth child lost in miscarriage. Some days, I didn't know if Mama would ever get out of bed.

My heart ached for Mama, and I wished I knew how to help her. I planted a kiss on her forehead before she turned to face the wall again. I got up to leave, intending to at least get her a glass of water before turning in.

"Mary Beth," she called as I reached the door. "I..." Her face was solemn as fresh tears escaped down her cheeks. "Thank you... for being so good. You've been a blessing to me and your Pa. I depend on you more than I should, but...." Her voice broke, and she buried her head in her pillow.

I tried to comfort her once more, but she patted my shoulder and said, "Leave me. Please, just leave me."

That was the closest Mama ever came to telling me she loved me.

_____

The morning of my eighteenth birthday came and went without consequence. I rode the bus with Johnny as usual and then drudged through the school day. I tried to talk Danielle into giving me a ride to work. She wanted me to skip last period again so we could go to the mall, but graduation was too close to be ditching class. When she couldn't persuade me, she huffed and took off for the mall by herself. So, I even rode the bus to work like it was just any other ordinary day.

But Mrs. Wilson stopped in just before Lucky's closed. I brightened at her pleasant and genuine face; her smile, as always, reached my heart. Even though we were decades apart, I felt we were kindred spirits. Mrs. Wilson, or Elinor as she insisted I call her, found me - that's the only way I know how to explain how it happened.

A lonely sixteen-year-old junior, staring off into space while sorting the VHS jackets at Bob's Video. She was looking for the classic Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. I knew every single movie starring Paul Newman and led her straight to the rental. I blushed with shyness as I also suggested one of my other personal favorites of his, The Long Hot Summer.

"Oh, honey, I have watched that one more than a dozen times. That Joanne Woodward," she paused with a knowing quick of her eyebrow, "Well, you can see why he fell for her, can't you?"

She smiled as I nodded. "Your eyes," she added as she appraised me, "remind me a bit more of Taylor, if I'm being honest." She shook the VHS of Cat On A Hot Tin Roof for emphasis. "Now, you don't have her dark looks - but your eyes - exquisitely captivating, just like hers. You could model." She crossed her arms and nodded at me. "You're tall enough."

I had wanted the earth to open up and swallow me, as I wasn't used to compliments. She was right about one thing; I was tall. I hated how I towered over the boys at school. Tall and gangly with no curves - that's all I saw when I looked in the mirror.

"Honey, can you pet sit for me this Saturday? I have a date in the city."

I nodded as I barely concealed my smile. Mrs. Wilson often went to San Francisco to meet very eligible bachelors, or to simply visit friends. She grew up there, and in her own words was a thriving socialite.

"But come over Friday so we can have a proper visit. I received some Turkish coffee from my sister." She smiled conspiratorially, knowing full well I wasn't allowed to drink coffee.

I grinned and promised I'd be there.

"Oh, and I almost forgot." She reached in her multicolored crochet handbag and withdrew an envelope. "Happy birthday, honey."

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything!"

She shooed me with her gloved hand. "Nonsense, you're like the niece I never had. I have no one else to spoil in my life, so let me."

Mrs. Wilson was an eccentric outcast in the town and didn't have very many friends. But she always said it wasn't that her personality was too big for this place, but rather that this town was too small for her.

Before I left for the night, I tore open the envelope to find five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and a card. My eyes bulged out, and I coughed in disbelief. The card said it was for my birthday and upcoming graduation. Tears formed and threatened to escape as I scooped up my backpack. I was saving up for a car, and Mrs. Wilson knew it.

Mama was in the dimly lit parking lot as I exited Lucky's with Gary, laying on her horn. I never understood how she thought I couldn't see her.

"No need for a ride tonight?" Gary nodded his head toward my family's station wagon.

I shook my head in response.

"Well, happy birthday, kid." Gary smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

Mama and I talked about the usual on the way home: school, my grades, graduation coming up, and my plans after. The last one left me quiet and sullen. Suddenly, turning eighteen felt like a heavy burden.

"Mama, did you..." I hesitated as I bit my lip. Mama only opened up about the past when she was good and ready. "Uh, did you always want to live here?"

She didn't look over at me, but stared straight ahead at the dark and wet road. "I didn't have a choice. Your grandparents wanted their family close. They were proud of this community they had helped build and wanted their children to follow in those footsteps."

"Yeah, but Uncle John got Grandpa's hardware store. What did Grandpa expect you to do if he wasn't planning on leaving the business to you?"

Mama shrugged her slight shoulders. "What I'm doing now. Raising a family."

Mama was in an unusually talkative mood about her past, and I couldn't help but ask more questions. "But everyone left after Grandpa and Grandma died. Didn't you ever think of leaving too?"

"Your Pa's work was here, so we stayed. And it's not so bad." She looked over at me then. "It's beautiful here, Mary Beth. You can go more exciting places, sure, but God spent extra time with his paintbrush here."

Outside the fogged-up windows, the surroundings were pitch black, but I knew if it were daylight we'd be passing tall majestic trees and lush green undergrowth. Mama was right - it was beautiful here. But something in me wanted more. I just didn't know what.

It was late when we arrived home, so it surprised me to see the lights on inside. As soon as we opened the front door, Johnny jumped from behind the kitchen cabinets.

"Surprise!!!" He threw some balloons up in the air and began dancing around me in his dinosaur pajamas.

Colorful streamers in purple and pink decorated the windows in the dining room, and on the table was a cake and some presents.

"You didn't think we'd forget, did you?" Mama squeezed my shoulders. "Happy birthday, honey."

Pa sauntered over and pressed an envelope into my hands. "Not as much as I wanted it to be." He hesitated, and then cleared his throat. "But I picked up some extra shifts to make it happen. Want to help you get your car, darlin'."

"Thanks, Pa," I smiled.

Alone in my room, I opened the envelope from Pa to find two hundred dollars in all twenties. I choked up, knowing what that money meant to our family. But more than anything I teared up because Pa hadn't spent it on booze. He seemed sober tonight. And Mama and he had been smiling and joking with one another over the late-night cake. Mama had even giggled when Pa had tickled her sides in the kitchen.

As I switched off my lamp and laid my head on my pillow. Through my window I could see the constellations wink in the velvet night sky. The rain had stopped. I traced the Big Dipper with my finger as my thoughts wandered.

If I saved most of my paycheck for the next few months, I might afford a used car by the end of summer.

Whoever is up there. I flopped on my stomach and hugged my pillow tight as I gazed out my window. Thank you for tonight. And please let me see Eric soon. I miss him.

There was a light knock on my door, and I sat up as Mama poked her head in. "Are you asleep?" she whispered.

"No, not yet." I switched on my table lamp.

"Lisa came by and dropped this off today."

Lisa was Eric's mom. As I took the outstretched envelope, my stomach somersaulted. I knew he wouldn't forget me.

Mama lingered near the doorway, and then finally said, "I think she said it's from Eric. You and he are still pretty close?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mama, we've always been close. But just friends, you know that."

Mama sighed. "You keep saying that. But boys have a one-track mind and don't know how to be just friends."

"Mama," I pleaded, "We're just friends. I promise. Can I please go to bed now?"

She hesitated like she wanted to say more, and then closed the door. "Goodnight Mary Beth."

The minute she left, I opened the envelope with anticipation. Inside was a lined index card with Eric's chicken scratch written on it. I read and reread it a million times before switching off the light.

Beth,

Hope you weren't expecting a card! I'm not mushy like that. We're not mushy like that. I'm missing your birthday and am going to miss your graduation too. Sorry about that. Trying to work as much as possible before I leave. But I promise to make it up to you after you graduate.

                                                                                                                                                                            -Eric