Her Little Black Book

Shit!". That was the first word I ever heard her say. It wouldn't be the first time I'd heard a 10 year old use profanity. She was dressed in an all black pant suit and she carried a little black book in her hand. I should've noticed it then. The way she frowned, the way her hands twitched when she was visibly irritated; but I didn't. Charlotte, that was her name.

[Six weeks ago...]

It's been ten years, seven months, and nine days since I packed up and moved to Raleigh, NC. I wish I had a compelling reason for leaving my hometown and coming here. It wasn't the scenery, the people, or the food. It was mere cowardice; cowardice of a scared seventeen year old girl. At the time, I only had $150 in my wallet and no plans. There was only one thought on my mind, "Run Sara, run away as far you can."; so I did. Thankfully, Mr.Benneth took me in and gave me a job at his old cafe. We never get a lot of customers, but just enough to keep the place open.

Today seemed no different than any other day. The rain was pouring loudly outside and only two customers sat on either side of the cafe. A typical boring day it seemed and then I heard the door open. "Welcome to-", I stopped mid-sentence surprised to see a little girl enter the cafe by herself. She shook the rain from her umbrella onto the floor and walked confidently over to the counter. "I want one small, decaf, two sugar, almond milk, no foam latte.", she said and placed a $10 bill on the counter. "Keep the change." Before I could respond, she walked away and sat down at a nearby table. I was taken aback by her strong presence and candid nature. She proceeded to pull out a little black book from her Birkin bag and started writing. Hours went by and it was nearing closing time, but the little girl was still sitting at her table. Maybe she's waiting for her mom, I thought. When it was time to close, I approached her and asked if anyone would be picking her up. Without saying a word, she packed her things and left. When I went to stop her, I saw her approach a black car and the driver came around to open the back door for her. Strange.

She came at the same time everyday from that day on. The same black car would drop her off and pick her up. Before I knew it, I became completely intrigued by this little girl. Why wasn't she in school? Why is she always dressed in a black suit? And, for the love of God, what could she possibly be writing in that book? At times, I would look up to find her studying me, then she would look away quickly after realizing I was looking back. I typically keep myself and would never even start a conversation with strangers, but something was different about this little girl. So, one day I decided to approach her in hopes of getting answers to my unanswered questions. "What." she said without looking up from her book. I had brought her latte over but couldn't find the right words to start a conversation. "Umm...I like your bag." I said shyly. Seriously? I couldn't speak to a 10 year old? "Look" I continued. "...you're always sitting alone and it's honestly a little strange that you're here everyday and not in school. Are your parents perhaps working...?". She paused, closed her book and stared at me for a moment. She then stood up, took a sip of her drink and then threw the mug on the ground. Everyone looked over, startled and confused. I was so surprised that I couldn't speak. As her hands twitched, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the cafe. What in the world is wrong with that kid?! Mr.Benneth came over with a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up the pieces. "Sara", he said, waking me from my confused state. " In all my 70 years, I've never seen such a hurt child. Don't judge her so quickly.". He was always really good at reading people. I smiled and helped him pick up the pieces.

The next day, the little girl came same time as usual. After ordering her drink, she then gestured for me to sit down in the chair opposite her. "The name's Charlotte," she said. I sat there confused by her sudden change of character. "I am an articulate, astute person so school is unnecessary. As for my reason for coming here; I like coffee. That is all you need to know." I opened my mouth to respond but she waved me away with her hand. That was our first full conversation. As time passed, I learned that Charlotte's driver is actually her bodyguard names Phillip. Her favorite color is black, she sometimes smiles when she's writing, and she has a habit of sitting cross legged. Over time, I started to pity her. A kid her age should be out playing with friends or at home watching TV, yet here she was-alone. Maybe her parents are too busy working to pay attention to her. After giving it much thought, I decided to befriend Charlotte. Even though she completely ignored me whenever I sat down with her, I could see her trying to hold back a smile. It went on like that for a while. She would order her go to latte and I'd sit with her during my breaks as she quietly wrote in her book.

One snowy day, as we sat across from each other, I decided to try digging again. "What do you wish for this Christmas?" As usual, my incessant curiosity was met with silence. Charlotte sighed heavily and closed her book. "I stopped making wishes a little while ago." she replied. It took a moment for me to realize she was serious. In that moment, my heart ached. What could've taken this kid's innocence away? I wondered. Without thinking, I said "I don't think you're a bad kid, Charlotte." She quickly opened her book to hide her face. "Leave me." she said. I chuckled and got up to go back to the coffee bar. As I turned to walk away, I heard the glass mug hit the floor. This again? I turned around to scold her only to find her lying on the floor, unconscious. "Charlotte!" I dropped to the floor and tried to wake her. Nothing. "Someone call 911!"

Thirty minutes passed since an ambulance took her to the hospital. Phillip assured us that he'd contact her guardians. As for me, I was sitting on the floor, hands twitching clutching Charlotte's black book. It was left behind amidst the chaos wide open on the table. Two words on the page left me shaken and in shock. "Mom" and "Sara". Confused by what I was seeing, I flipped to the first page which read, Day 1: I found my mother. She looks just like I pictured. I want to tell her who I am but I'm afraid she won't like me. I was holding my head between my hands with tears streaming down my face. I looked up to see Mr.Benneth staring at me. "You must go to her, Sara. She's your daughter." I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. He helped me to my feet and I rushed to the car. I have so many questions, so much I want to say. The car was not moving fast enough. I needed to see Charlotte now.

I stumbled into the ER and demanded to see Charlotte at the front desk. "Ma'am, what is your relation to the patient?" Tears started to pour from my eyes again. I was hysterical." I'm...I'm her mother." I said. My response was met with confused stares. "Her mother is already here." I was informed. Before I could respond, a blonde woman dressed in a fur coat approached the desk. Emily? So, it's true. Ten years ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl at the young age of 17. Afraid, poor, and very much alone, I made the difficult decision to give her up for adoption. A wealthy woman by the name of Emily Glotan came to me and promised to take very good care of my daughter for as long as she lives. She offered to give me $20,000 to leave town and never get into contact with my daughter. I smiled knowing that at least she would be taken care of financially and turned down the offer. When I finally went into labor, I started to regret giving up my baby but it was too late. To cope with that decision, I ran away from everything I ever knew; to forget it all. Now here reality is standing in front of me.

On the way to the room, Emily stopped midway and looked at me teary eyed. "It's Childhood Interstitial Lung Disease...It's fatal, Sara" What does that even mean? My daughter is supposed be happy. She's supposed be leading a much better life than mine. I sunk to the floor in disbelief. " Why didn't she tell me?" I asked. "She wanted to meet you so badly. She searched for you on her own and when she found you, I knew I couldn't stop her. I gave her everything. All the clothes money could buy, shoes, toys. None of that mattered to her" Emily replied. She sat down on the floor next to me and told me everything. Charlotte's been struggling with lung disease for years. Soon after her diagnosis, Emily broke the news to Charlotte that she was adopted. Charlotte was later taken out of school and permitted to fulfill any dreams she wanted. The only thing Charlotte wanted, however, was to find her real mother. "She writes about you every day." Emily said. I looked down at the little black book and noticed two words were engraved at the bottom. To Mom. I needed to see her. I needed her to know that not a day went by that I didn't think about her. I needed her know that I love her. That I was sorry.

She died later that night. All that was left was her little black book.