The Letter

I walked through the hallway of my dingy apartment building, the smell of weed thick in the air. I wrinkled my nose. I reached my door and shoved my key in the lock. I turned the handle, and like always, the door was stuck. I gave a good boot to the bottom right corner and stumbled into my apartment. I sighed and kicked off my boots. I walked to the fridge and grabbed myself a beer. I worked at the local donation place, and to say today had been a rough day had been an understatement.

It was another busy summer day, and we got the yard sale leftovers. As per usual those leftovers were coated in dust and animal feces that normally would have been turned away at the door. Had we not been too busy to inspect every box as they were coming in. All I really wanted was to take a shower, but I was too exhausted. I flopped down on the couch sipping on my beer, just relishing in the quietness of my apartment.

I was almost asleep when I felt my phone vibrate. I drowsily pulled it out, only to see that it was an unknown number. I let it go to voicemail, and tossed it on the side table. Sighing, I got up from the couch, deciding I should probably take that shower now. 20 minutes later I felt 100% cleaner, and was truly ready to go to bed. I grabbed my phone, and was surprised to see that I had a voicemail. Curious, I decided to listen to it.

“Hello, this is Mr. Billingsly from Holland, Billingsly and Firth. I have called to come into contact with a Miss Samantha Montgomery. If you could reach me at 555 0125 at your earliest convenience. I have some news that is of some great importance.” I stared at my phone wondering briefly if this was some kind of scam. Too tired to deal with anything now, I plugged my phone into the wall and went to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of my phone vibrating the next morning. Groaning, I reached over and grabbed it, not even looking at the number before answering. “Hello.” I mumbled wiping the sleep out of my eyes.

“Hello, I am looking for a Miss Samantha Montgomery.” Said the voice on the other end.

“Speaking.” I mumbled back sitting up and turning on a light.

“Hello, my name is Mr. Billingsly. I work for Holland, Billingsly and Firth based out of Toronto, I was wondering if I could book an appointment at your earliest convenience.”

“What for?” I asked.

“I’m afraid that I am not allowed to disclose that information over the phone, however, it is of great importance.”

I looked at the clock on my night stand and saw that it was 9:00. “The earliest I could make it in is 1:00.” I explained.

“That’s perfect,” Billingsly said, “I’ll book you in for that time.” He then gave me the street address, and wished me well, before hanging up.

I quickly googled the firm, and saw that it was in fact a high-end law firm, who mostly handled the affairs of the super rich. I called my mom, and explained to her what happened.

“I know it’s last minute, but could you come with me.” I asked.

“Of course, Hon,” She replied. “I’ll be there to pick you up in 30 minutes.”

“See you then,” I said.

Once I hung up, I quickly got dressed and ready for the day. Throwing on a comfy pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. I threw my hair back in a high pony, and grabbed some breakfast before meeting my mother in the parking lot downstairs.

“I still don’t like you living alone in this area.” She said.

“I’m looking for a roommate.” I reassured her. My last roommate ran off last minute, leaving me to pay the full rent on my own. I hoped that I would find one soon, or I would have to move out. We stopped for gas before hitting the highway, and drove the 2 1/2 hours to the firm in Toronto.

“I hate Toronto,” my mother mumbled under her breath as we were stuck in the stop and go traffic.

Finally, we reached the law firm, and my mother and I gawked. The building was 40 stories, complete with a parking garage. When we entered the lobby, my mouth dropped open again. I looked over at my mom, and I could see that she was doing her best to keep a straight face.

“Hello,” I greeted the secretary with a smile. “My name is Samantha Montgomery; I have an appointment.”

The secretary typed my name into the computer and smiled. “Could I just see some ID first.” She asked. I looked at my mother in confusion but reluctantly pulled out my driver’s license. The secretary confirmed who I was and then directed me to the elevator. I was surprised to see that the appointment was on the top floor. When we got off, another secretary greeted us.

“Hello, Miss Montgomery, you can head straight in. However, your guest will have to wait in the lobby.” I looked at my mother, a little uncomfortable at the idea, but followed the secretary to the set of double doors, the name Adam Billingsly etched on the placard. The secretary opened the door gesturing for me to enter.

“You may have a seat. Can I get you a water or anything while you wait?”

“No thankyou,” I replied sitting on the edge of an expensive looking chair in front of a large oak desk. The secretary shut the door, and a moment later a man entered.

I stood up, as he walked towards the chair behind the desk. “Hello Miss Montgomery, I am Mr. Billingsly.” He held out his hand and I quickly shook it before he gestured for me to sit again. “Now, I am sure you are curious as to why I have called you here.”

“That’s a little bit of an understatement.” I replied.

He smiled, but continued on. “I believe there is no better way to tell you this…. I represent your birth mother.” I went completely still, as my mind raced.

“Wh-what?” I gasped out. I was having trouble breathing, why was I having trouble breathing.

The lawyer grabbed the pitcher of water from atop of his desk and poured a glass, then came running along the other side, offering it to me.

“Just breath,” He said. And then waited. After a minute I took the glass of water and began gulping it down.

“That woman abandoned me.” I said slowly. I couldn’t call her my mother, that title belonged to the woman sitting in the lobby. The woman who gave birth to me, she meant nothing to me. But if that were true, why was I freaking out so much right now. I began looking around at the office. The very lavish looking office of that woman’s lawyer, the lawyer who only represented high end clients. My eyes narrowed on him. “How much money does she have.”

The lawyer looked sheepishly away, and began walking towards the window overlooking the city. It was actually a beautiful view, too bad I couldn’t appreciate it more. “There is actually more to the story…” he began.

“But she has money.” I paused thinking about everything in my life. “When you grow up in the foster system, you tell yourself a story about your family, about your birth mother. A story that makes you feel better about being abandoned. That your mother was poor, or dying…” I rambled on. The feeling of shock still washing over me. “But she wasn’t, was she.”

The lawyer pulled out a small envelope from his desk drawer and handed it over to me. Precise lettering was scrawled across the back. To my Daughter. I looked at the lawyer, unsure of what to do. I then looked back at the envelope and tore it open carefully.

To my Dearest Samantha

I know it may seem odd, that I am coming to you now after all these years. You may not even want to hear from me. But I want you to know that giving you up was the hardest thing I ever had to do and that I never got over it. I regret that the only thing I had to give you was a name, but I am happy to see that you kept it after all these years. You have to understand, that when I gave you up, I had no choice. My father was a hard man. When he discovered that I was pregnant, there was no question as to what was to be done. I was only a child myself. It would embarrass the family, and that was all he cared about. And so, he sent me off to have the baby in secret. I didn’t have the strength to fight him on it. I didn’t know how hard it would be, but believe me it was difficult. It slowly killed me inside, I never really moved on. And then your grandfather became ill. I knew I had to find you. Once he died, I hired a Private Investigator to find you. And he did. He showed me everything that he found, and I am happy that you have done so well without me. I am proud of you, and understand if you never want to meet me. Just know that you were the first thing I thought about in the morning every day since the day you were born.

I am truly sorry I couldn’t be there for you from the beginning.

Sincerely, Delilah Reynolds

I looked up at the lawyer, tears in my eyes. I took a second to compose myself. “Where is she?” I asked, swiping at my face with the palm of my hand. Mr. Billingsly handed me a tissue.

“I regret to inform you that shortly after that letter was written, Miss Reynolds discovered that she had cancer. She didn’t want to burden you with her illness, and wanted to wait till she became better. Unfortunately, she never did.”

“She’s dead?” I looked down already knowing the answer. I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. I then looked back up at the lawyer. “Is there anything else?”

“There is.” He said, and then produced a small black journal. “Your mother wanted you to have this. She said that it was her journal from when she was pregnant with you. She had hoped that it would allow you to get to know her in some way, and to come to some understanding with all of this.” I took the journal and looked it over. I opened it to see Property of Delilah Reynolds inscribed on the first page. I closed the book firmly, unsure that I would ever have the strength to read it. I looked back at the lawyer.

“When did she die?”

“It was about a month ago. I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

I shook my head standing up. “Thankyou for calling me in today.” I said before turning towards the door. Mr. Billingsly stopped me.

“There is one more thing,” he said producing another document from his desk. “Miss Reynolds wanted to see you live comfortably, and so she decided to leave you a substantial amount of money.” He handed the document over to me. “She left you $500,000.”

My mouth dropped open, as I thought of all the things I couldn’t do before because of money. I could go to school, any school. I wouldn’t have to have a roommate. I could live in a better apartment. I could travel. For once in my life my options weren’t limited, and I felt like there were so many paths that I could take at this moment and time. As I walked out, I looked at my mother, my real mother. Concern and worry were on her face. She could probably tell that I had been crying.

“What happened?” She asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” was all I said, as we walked out together.