Reading the Full Story

In the recesses of her memories, Nana had always been cold. Condescending. Uncaring. Less grandmotherly than normal. Her mother would tell her that Nana was always like that, even before she was born. She would tell her that Nana had grown from a hard life into a hard woman and into a harder mother, with expectations put on her by everyone and everything. She had to be a good career woman, otherwise she wasn’t as good as the men and she had to be a good wife, otherwise she’d be left. Being a good mother hadn’t made the list.

The fog rolls along with them onto the long tree-lined driveway as they make their way to the house. A sprawling yard, a two storied farmhouse, and an acre of pristinely cut Kentucky Bluegrass meets them as they wind the final corner. They spent most summers here, often catching fireflies in the hot August twilights, or running like thieves through the sprinklers in June.

The home itself was empty but warm, a relic of times gone by with plastic wrapped pillows, dried magnolias, and walnut china cabinets filled with . This was Sally’s first time here in a decade. The first time since her Nana passed away.

It had been a shock to her at the reading of the will when she was announced as the heir to her Nana’s estate. Honestly, it had been a shock for everyone to find out. The estate mostly consisted of the house, the property, and a decent nest egg that was enough for Sally to pay off her school loans and then some.

She had made her way to the house--her house now--to pack away the last remaining memories of her Nana and to sell anything she didn’t want to pass down as heirlooms. She remembered a precious emerald mod dress that her grandmother used to fawn over and threaten any child who wandered too close.

Tucked between the folds of business suits and alongside a black pair of kitten heels was a little black notebook. It was leather with deckled edges and a single satin strip that acted as a bookmark. It was so mysterious, and such an odd thing to see hidden away. No one had ever mentioned her Nana keeping a journal.

Sally opened it up.

Inside, the pages were filled with tight and clear cursive, sprawling from page to page. Each page was dated, ranging from the mid-70s to a few months ago, right before her Nana got sick. Hesitantly, she began to read.

“May 4th 1973, Robert wants me to work less. The firm is looking for a new partner soon and there’s no chance in hell that I’m going to allow any of these still-sucking-at-the-teet babies to become one before I do! Robert’s just going to have to deal with it.

“ August 20th, 1978, Leslie and Mara are being bullied by some pipsqueak third grader at recess. He’s two grades ahead of them, why does he feel the need to pick on them? Because they’re smaller than him? Happier than him? Because they’re two little girls who are facing the world with open hearts and naive minds and it’s about damned time that someone came along to nip that in the bud? Couldn’t they have just had a little more time to be children? Couldn’t they have just had a little more time to be girls before someone came along to mess it up? I’m going to have a conversation with his mother tomorrow and I can guarantee that she’s not ready for what’s coming. Hell hath no fury...etc. etc.

“February 13, 1989, Leslie is making me so mad! How dare she take every opportunity I’ve given her and throw it back in my face! Ungrateful child! Pregnant at 19! And getting married to some low life good for nothing…..and what’s worst of all? She’s going to be a housewife! Accepted into Harvard. On route to becoming a heart surgeon. And this is what she does? Ungrateful! Disgraceful!

“June 12th, 1991, my fellow partners at the firm want me out. I’ve given everything I’ve had to this company. Worked more than anyone else there, and this is how they send me out? This is how they treat me? Sending me into an early retirement, all because they feel like I’ve gotten too old. Is it the grey hair? The crow’s feet? Is my age too much for my male partners? Is it too much for those children? To see a woman, fully in her age, still kicking ass?

“December 26th, 2007, Leslie’s child turned 17 earlier this year and get this. This kid’s just like me….but free. Free of the ridicule and expectations of men who expect her to look and act a certain way. Free of thoughts of men. Thoughts of her fellow women. She’s a kid who fully knows who she is. I wish I had spent these last 70 years with that level of certainty. Think of all the hell I would have wrought."

Sally closed the notebook, her breath escaping her body.

Her Nana had always been cold. Condescending. Uncaring. But she was so much more than that, apparently. She had just hidden it away from the world, to spare parts of herself that were too much or too little. She did care, but in her own way.

Sally placed the notebook in her purse and walked out of the closet with business suits and kitten heels and years and years of secrets of a strong, cold woman with a heart filled with so much more than ice.