Just One Year(62)

If I’ve done something to make you think otherwise, please get that out of your head. I hope that by the time you’re reading this, you’ve moved on from me, from the sadness my leaving caused you. But if for some reason you haven’t, take this letter and place it close to your heart. Close your eyes and feel me with you. Know that as I’m writing this, I feel so much in my heart for you. And I dare not say that four-letter word, only because it’s not fair. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.

I’m confident that no matter where I am or how many months or years go by, what I feel for you won’t change. Our lives might change, but I will always carry these feelings in my heart. If you’ve opened up this drawer for your makeup, maybe you’re going somewhere special or out for a night on the town. Whatever it may be, please do one thing for me: don’t ever settle, Teagan. Don’t EVER settle. You deserve the world. I hope as you’re reading this, you haven’t grown to hate me, for leaving or otherwise. I hope you remember me in a positive light. But whatever the case may be, know that wherever I am, a part of you is with me.



Fondly,

Caleb



P.S. You really don’t need the makeup at all.



I clutched the letter to my chest, once again feeling what he’d told me to feel. Him. THIS—this was the way it was supposed to feel. Caleb told me not to settle. I’d been trying to figure out why I couldn’t sleep with Ethan. Plain and simple, being with Caleb—knowing what it felt like to give not only your body but your heart and soul to someone—had made it impossible for me to accept anything less.

Even if I couldn’t be with Caleb, this letter reminded me what it should feel like to truly want someone in every way. Just reading his words had made my soul come alive.

It wasn’t right to keep stringing Ethan along. Whether I wasn’t into him enough or I still loved Caleb, I couldn’t quite determine. But in any case, Caleb was right. I shouldn’t settle. It wasn’t fair to me or Ethan.

***

Obviously I didn’t bring it up at Kai’s sister’s wedding, and then in the days that followed, I put off addressing my feelings with my boyfriend. I did almost everything I could to distract myself from having to deal with the inevitable. Don’t ask me why one of those distractions included Googling my birth mother. I’d never considered looking for her, and certainly didn’t care to meet her. But suddenly, I became curious. There was no doubt that since Caleb left, I’d felt very lost. Maybe seeking information on her was an attempt to find my bearings? I wasn’t sure, but I typed “Ariadne Mellencamp” in the search bar.

My father had said he would support me if I ever decided to find Ariadne. I wasn’t looking to meet her, though, just to get more details on her life. But what would I do with that information? If I knew she was alive or where she lived, how would that change my life? I wasn’t sure, but hit the search button anyway.

A plethora of addresses associated with Ariadne came up: Miami, Florida, to Los Angeles, California, to London, England. There only seemed to be one listing for her name—same person, just different locales. She was one of a kind, alright, and I don’t mean that in a good way.

An image search pulled up a photo of her from six years ago. She was apparently part of some adult dance troupe in Los Angeles. She looked more haggard than I would have thought for someone in her mid-thirties at the time. She had some wrinkles around her eyes. Maybe it was just an unflattering photo—or perhaps she took no better care of herself than she had her abandoned child. My dad had also mentioned that she loved to smoke. In any case, seeing her was still like looking into the future at myself.

I thought seeing her face after all these years might have triggered some emotion in me. But all I saw when I looked at her photo was a self-centered person who seemed dead on the inside. Perhaps she lived with a lot of regret. Or perhaps the idea of her having an actual heart was just a fantasy I’d created.

The one feeling that did arise from looking at this photo was love—not for the woman in the photo, but for the woman who’d picked up all the pieces Ariadne had shattered and left behind.

Shutting my laptop, I ran upstairs in search of her. Maura sat in the living room, writing out some bills at the corner table. I stopped in front of her, and she looked up.

“What’s up, Teagan?”

Without saying a word, I leaned in and pulled her into the tightest hug.

“Oh my…” she said, clearly caught off guard.

“I’m so sorry, Maura.”

“For what?”

“For being an asshole the past fifteen years.”

She gripped me tighter. “Oh, sweetie. I never thought that.”

“It just hit me.”

“What did?”

I looked into her eyes. “That you’re my mother. You’ve been my mother all along. I resisted it because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to appreciate the fact that when my birth mother left, God sent me someone better.”

Her mouth dropped. “Teagan,” she said. “I love you so much.”

I responded in the only way that finally felt natural. “I love you, too, Mom.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN




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CALEB