Truth Undressed (Exposed Series, #3) Read online

  Truth Undressed

  Hazel Kelly

  © 2014 Hazel Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Kate

  Chapter 2: Dawn

  Chapter 3: Kate

  Chapter 4: Dawn

  Chapter 5: Kate

  Chapter 6: Dawn

  Chapter 7: Kate

  Chapter 8: Dawn

  Chapter 9: Kate

  Chapter 10: Dawn

  Chapter 11: Kate

  Chapter 12: Dawn

  Chapter 13: Kate

  Chapter 14: Dawn

  Chapter 15: Kate

  Chapter 16: Dawn

  Chapter 17: Kate

  Chapter 18: Dawn

  Chapter 19: Kate

  Chapter 20: Dawn

  Chapter 21: Kate

  Chapter 22: Dawn

  Chapter 23: Kate

  Chapter 24: Dawn

  Epilogue

  Thanks

  “A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.”

  ― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover

  Chapter 1: Kate

  My Mom had barely said two words to me since Dawn died. Not that she hadn’t tried. It’s just that every time she opened her mouth nothing came out. Then she’d just look at me sadly, hang her head, and walk away.

  I couldn’t imagine how much she must have been hurting. After all, Dawn was her only sister and she’d been blowing her off for the last ten years. But that was her problem.

  I had my own shit to think about. I mean, Dawn was the best thing that had happened to me since I started high school. My heart already ached from missing her, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to watch the life drip out of her into the plastic bags that hung around her bed.

  Of course, I was scared, too. Because I needed her. She was the reason I hadn’t thrown up in weeks. I was worried I would start again if I couldn’t talk to her when I needed help. Especially now that I’d moved back to where it all started.

  As soon as I got home, I could feel how toxic the environment was for me. It was like I was allergic to something in the walls, but instead of a rash I just broke out with this intense urge to binge. At least I recognized it now that I’d spent some time away.

  It never occurred to me before that an environment could make you sick, but I swear the stress of just being there was exhausting. To anyone else it would seem like a regular suburban family home. But to me it was a house of pain, the birthplace of the darkest feelings I had ever experienced. So no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable there. I couldn’t stop thinking I’d be better off anywhere else.

  Fortunately, a lot of visitors kept coming to pay their condolences. Which meant that stuffing my face and disappearing to throw up for two hours wasn’t an option. So that was good. Plus, it turned out sneaking shots of gifted vodka gave me the same numbness I was after anyway.

  Annie and her boyfriend, Rob, brought it for me when they came over to pay their respects. She concealed the bottle of Smirnoff in a bag that contained “a few books and a sweatshirt she’d borrowed.”

  My Mom was so grateful that someone came to check on me that she didn’t even make a crack about how much they smelled like cigarettes. So I knew I was free to start hitting the bottle. Plus, she was too drunk on her own grief to pay attention to me. And my Dad wouldn’t have said shit because it would’ve just further upset her.

  The important thing was that I was doing my best to cope with being home, and if my Mom needed anything, I was there for her. And I wasn’t going anywhere until she was okay. Which looked like it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. I mean, her pain wasn’t just inside. It was all over her face, and no amount of anti-aging cream was ever going to erase her frown lines from the last few days.

  Thank god for Tina who took care of everything after Dawn died. If it weren’t for her, my brother and my Dad probably would’ve starved to death, and my Mom would’ve been walking around half-dressed with mascara all over her face.

  Tina even arranged for Dawn’s cremation. And afterwards, she decided it would be good for her to stay at our house until she figured out what her final resting place should be. So Dawn wasn’t even technically gone. She was chilling in a red urn on the mantle in the living room where no one would knock her down.

  Maybe that was why I hadn’t cried. Because she was still sort of eerily present. Or maybe I was just broken. I mean, I cried when a dog on TV needed surgery but not when my Aunt died? What the fuck was wrong with me?

  By the late afternoon, everyone besides Tina had gone. Even my brother left for an “emergency” glee club meeting. Though I suspect he was just off with his girlfriend.

  Meanwhile, my Mom and Dad were sitting silently at the kitchen table in front of a pile of uneaten sandwiches and two cups of cold tea. My Mom was staring into space doing that gulping thing where she acts like she’s about to say something but never does. I think my Dad was just sticking around in case she actually decided to speak and because he didn’t know what else to do.

  Obviously, I had no interest in being around that. Not when I could head upstairs for another swig with my own partner in grief. Which is exactly what I was about to go do when Tina asked if she could talk to me in the living room before she left. And since I knew the bottle in my closet wasn’t going anywhere, I agreed.

  The fact that we made it to the living room and actually sat on the couch was further evidence that my Mom was not okay. Because as far as she was concerned, the living room was just a decoration. The tables and couch were not there to be used or enjoyed. They were merely symbolic of how nice things could be if my brother and my Dad and I didn’t exist. Which, in my opinion, seemed to contradict the fact that she supposedly liked us.

  Anyway, since Tina didn’t know the rules, I joined her in the living room, and relished christening the couch. Though I don’t think she realized it was a big deal. I kinda got the sense that all her rooms were living rooms.

  “How are you doing, Kate?” she asked, putting her purse on the floor next to her feet.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to spend time with you before. Under different circumstances.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “I know Dawn really enjoyed the time she spent with you recently. It meant a lot to her that you were by her side through all this.”

  “It meant a lot to me, too.”

  Tina’s eyes were sad and puffy. I guess Dawn had been her best friend for a long time. I was a little embarrassed that she was worried about me considering the fact that she knew Dawn so much better than I did.

  “Before she died, Dawn talked to me about what she wanted me to do with all her things.”

  I nodded.

  “And she wants me to give just about everything to you.”

  “To me?”

  Tina nodded.

  “What do you mean everything?”

  “Well, her clothes and her jewelry for starters, if you want them.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” She smoothed her skirt down.

  “Wow.” My mind flashed immediately to a silver Tiffany necklace Dawn had often worn. It was so pretty the way it bounced along her collarbone, I even tried it on once when she wasn’t home. “That was nice of her.”

  “She also wants you to have the apartment.”
/>   “The apartment?” I didn’t know what to say. “Does my Mom know that?”

  “She does,” Tina said, speaking as deliberately as if she were recording a book on tape. “And since I’m the co-signer on the apartment, I can help you when you decide what you want to do with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means if you want to sell it-”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to sell it.”

  She crossed her legs towards me and smiled. “Dawn thought you might want to live there yourself. Or if you go away to school, you could rent it out to earn some money.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t have to decide now.”

  “Okay, good. Thanks.” That sounded like a decision I should make sober, preferably with my parents help.

  “There’s one more thing Dawn wanted you to have.”

  I looked back and forth between Tina’s eyes. “What’s that?”

  “It’s something she was working really hard on and-.”

  “What?”

  Tina pulled a thick manila envelope out of her purse and put it in her lap. It had a letter taped to the outside with my name written on it in Dawn’s handwriting. “I know she wished she had the time and strength to give it to you before she died”

  “What is it?” I asked, leaning forward.

  “It’s the truth,” Tina said, handing the parcel to me. “She wanted you to have the truth.”

  Chapter 2: Dawn

  Dear Kate,

  All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and have everything. While happiness takes time, I think you’re finally learning to choose it. And as far as having everything, the only thing you’re short of is the truth. Which you deserve.

  I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but it was always going to be too late or too early. And it was never going to be convenient or easy for anyone.

  When I was in my twenties, I got pregnant. Fortunately, the baby was born out of a committed, loving relationship. Unfortunately, it was an accident. And because I was an addict- addicted not only to my selfish lifestyle but to a variety of drugs (that for the record, I did not indulge in during my pregnancy)- I was in no position to have a baby. I was still a baby myself.

  When my boyfriend at the time encouraged me to get an abortion, I refused, and our relationship fell apart. As a result, it became even more impossible for me to even consider trying to support a child.

  The night I gave birth there was a torrential storm. There was lightening, wind, lashing rain, the whole lot. At the time, I remember thinking the weather was a perfect reflection of what was going on inside me.

  Before I gave birth, I found a couple I felt I could trust to raise my little girl. They couldn’t get pregnant themselves. But they were happily married, young, energetic, and eager to start a family. And as painful as it was to admit, there was no question that they were in a better position to care for my baby than I was.

  The night I had the baby, I was full of hormones. And when I saw her beautiful flushed face, felt her soft fingertips, and smelled her thin hair, I wanted to keep her. But I didn’t have the guts to say so. Just like I didn’t have any of the other things she would need from me. So I took the easy way out- even though it didn’t feel that way at the time- and I handed her over.

  That baby was you.

  I know there were so many times I could have told you. So many times I should’ve. But I didn’t want to fuck you up. That’s why I did what I did in the first place. And maybe you’re still not old enough to understand. Maybe you’ll never forgive me. But if you’re angry, be angry at me. Not Carol. She never did anything but love you, and she took care of you better than I ever would’ve been able to.

  When you came into my life recently, I wondered every day if I should tell you the truth. But I didn’t for several reasons. The first is that I’m a coward, and the day you showed up at my door and asked if you could stay was the best day of my entire life. Also, I was worried if I told you the truth, you might walk out on me when I needed you most. Which I would have deserved because that’s what I did to you.

  The other reason I didn’t tell you was because I could see you were in trouble. And as your biological mother and a mental health professional, I was prepared to do anything I could do to help you. Which meant keeping the truth from you even longer. After all, if I told you the truth, I would have lost any credibility I had with you.

  As far as before you showed up, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more while you were growing up. I did try in the beginning when you were little, but it was too hard for me. Much harder than I thought it would be. I still remember the pain I felt when I saw how beautiful and funny you were, and what it felt like when Carol told me about your first step, your first word.

  Every time I saw you I had to resist the urge to scoop you up and run away with you. Every time. Because I didn’t want to confuse you. Or me.

  I can’t tell you how many times I tried to convince myself that I should take you back, but I had nothing to offer you, Kate. Nothing. Except a mother’s love. And that wasn’t enough. Not for you. You deserved more. I wanted you to have opportunities, stability, and a good education. Which meant you were better off with Carol and Fred.

  Eventually, I stopped coming around. Not because I was avoiding you, but because I started to resent my sister. For what she did to me. Which was totally unfair because she probably saved both our lives.

  What I resented most was that she could take care of you not only in the ways I couldn’t, but also in the ways I thought only I could. Eventually, I convinced myself that she was a child thieving bitch. Even though I’ve always known there’s not a malicious bone in her body.

  But that’s the problem with lies. You tell them enough and you can’t remember the truth anymore. You can no longer see the difference between what’s real and what’s fabricated. Once you get to that point, you can’t find your way back even if you want to. I think that’s what happened to me. I had to convince myself so thoroughly that you weren’t mine just so I could move on that when you showed up, the truth was buried so deep I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.

  Maybe you think that’s a bogus excuse. I don’t disagree. And I’m sure you’re angry. I’m sure you think I’m selfish for not telling you this in person, and you have a right to feel those things.

  But make sure you direct your anger at me. Not yourself. Not Fred and Carol. I’m the one you should be mad at. I’m the one that’s responsible for the lies you’ve been told. No one else. I’m probably liable for anything you don’t like about yourself, too. So please blame me if you want to blame someone.

  But please also know that- whether you agree with our decision or not- we were all just trying to do what was best for you.

  I know the truth doesn’t make up for my absence. Believe me I know. But I am so grateful for every minute you spent with me these past few months. I hope you can forgive me for not wanting to do anything to jeopardize it.

  It was a pleasure getting to know you. You have such a bright mind, so many natural gifts, and you’re so beautiful. If you can learn to love yourself like Carol, Fred, and I have always loved you, you’ll be able to achieve anything you set your heart to.

  Because you are my only child, I wanted to leave you something, but as you know, I never had much. The only thing I can really give you is the opportunity to get to know me better. To know what my life was about, to learn from my mistakes and what I think I did right. In my own words.

  Maybe you’ll read it and decide it was just a last exercise in my personal vanity. But maybe you'll find a wise takeaway or two mixed in from which you can benefit.

  Basically, after much reflection, I realized that I was never happier in my life than when I was loving and being loved. And you can’t have one without the other. Maybe that sounds obvious, but I wish I’d realized it sooner. Because in the last years of my life, I stopped loving as freely as I once did. As a result, I experienced
less love in return.

  I know this change didn’t give me cancer, but my isolation did feel similar in the way it set in, the way it grew and fed on itself. And I don’t want that for you. I want you to learn from my mistakes and remember to make love a priority.

  Because no matter what you’re going through, nothing can keep you afloat as well as love can. Plus, it will keep you young and it will keep things interesting. And if you play your cards right, you can have some great adventures without even getting out of bed.

  As you well know, because I didn’t raise you and I’m not a prude, I feel comfortable telling you things that no one else will say to you. Partly because they aren’t qualified. But I am. In fact, discussing love and sex is one of the only things I’m qualified to do.

  In the end, I wrote this stuff down because I love you and because I don’t think women are honest enough with each other. Especially about the realities of sex and relationships. And I can’t change the world, but if I can help make your journey through life a bit more enjoyable, that’s enough for me.

  When you’re done being angry at me, I hope you’ll read it.

  Love always,

  Dawn

  Ps- This is my high school graduation photo in case you have any doubt. And yes, I thought that perm looked good at the time.

  Chapter 3: Kate

  My hands were shaking by the time I got to the end of the letter. Then I just stared at the photograph. I’d never seen anyone who looked more like me in my whole life. And it was Dawn? Dawn was my real Mom and Carol was my Aunt? What the fuck? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  It was so surreal I was sure I was just having a dream. A dream that I was John Lennon. It had to be some kind of joke.

  I looked up and Tina was just sitting there straight faced like she was waiting for me to say something.

  What was there to say? I couldn’t have said something even if I wanted to. I felt like I’d swallowed my tongue. I looked at the urn on the mantelpiece. It couldn’t be true. There were so many reasons it couldn’t be true.