Chapter 8 - THE BASEMENT

Dad wanted to go straight to the police. I wanted to know what was in the basement first. We compromised: he called a family friend, Officer Harris, explained what we knew, and asked her to meet us at the house.

Mia waited on the porch. She looked at my graduation gown, then away.

“Mom left,” she said. “She took her suitcase.”

“Where did she go?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know.”

She led us downstairs. At the back of the basement was a metal storage cabinet Dad used for old tax files. The lock had been forced. Inside, beneath the boxes, sat a plastic bin labeled CLAIRE — SCHOOL.

I hadn’t seen it in years.

Dad opened it. My middle school art projects were on top. Under them were contest certificates, recommendation letters, and three unopened envelopes from summer design programs.

“They were addressed to me,” I said.

Dad picked up one. The date was from two years earlier.

I remembered asking Denise whether any programs had answered. She told me I hadn’t been selected.

Mia sat down on the bottom step. “Mom kept everything she thought would take you away.”

“You knew?”

“I knew about some letters. Not all of them.”

“You cut my dress.”

“I did.” She swallowed. “Mom said if you missed graduation pictures, you’d finally understand how Mia feels standing next to you.”

“You could have told her no.”

“I know.”

Dad carried the bin upstairs. At the kitchen table, he sorted the letters while Mia sat across from us. Some opportunities had expired. Others were invitations to apply, but I’d never been allowed to see them.

Officer Harris arrived and listened. She asked us to make a list of what was missing or damaged and to keep the originals safe.

Then Dad opened the last envelope in the bin.

It was from my late mother’s sister, Aunt Rebecca, dated eight months earlier. Inside was a short note.

CLAIRE, I’VE TRIED TO REACH YOU. PLEASE CALL ME. THERE IS SOMETHING YOUR MOTHER LEFT FOR YOU.

A number was written beneath it.

Dad looked at me. “I didn’t know she’d written.”

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