She closed that drawer and
opened the next one. This drawer contained various colored t-shirts and a few
white buttoned down dress shirts with a tie attached to each one. There wasn’t
anything in that drawer or the next so she moved to the last one at the bottom.
Kneeling on the floor, Ashley tried pulling it open and found it was stuck from
being so full of jeans and dress slacks in both black and brown.
She managed to finally get it
open and picked up the stacks of jeans and sat them on the floor, praying she’d
remember exactly how they went so Stephen wouldn’t find out. Looking inside,
she picked up a black leather journal and it was bookmarked around the middle
of the book. Ashley opened it and her hands trembled when she picked up a
photograph of Stephen and her mother.
Her mom was dressed in a blue
chiffon dress and had on a pale blue orchid corsage. Stephen was wearing a
black tuxedo with a sharp white dress shirt and a black silk necktie tied in a
neat bow. The photo was faded and slightly yellow with age, the edges of it
crinkled and slightly torn. It was dated August of 1976, three years before she
was born. It look as if it might have been at the prom so it meant Stephen had
lied about how long he’d known her mother.
Putting the photo back where it
was, she thumbed through the journal for any more clues and the next to the
last page there was a folded piece of white paper, grown soft from the many
times it had been folded. She opened it and put the book down so she could read
what it said. It was a letter to Stephen.
My Dearest Stephen,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. I need to
pursue my dreams of being an actress and you need to write. Even though we’re
both ships that pass in the night, along the same waters, it can never work.
You need to continue your dream and I need to find mine. Perhaps one day we’ll
meet again, a little wiser and a little more grounded.
Please take care of yourself. I’ll always love you.
You’ve given me the courage to go after my dreams, thank you. Please remember
me when you’re writing your next book.
Love Annie.
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