wore it so I’m sure you’ll give it a good home. It also has a
matching bracelet. Surprise! I always loved the set myself. It’s real vintage
Tiffany. My Mom gave it to me. So there you go. You’re meant to have it. It is
the nicest jewelry I’ve ever owned.
As far as the ring, it’s not valuable. I’m sure I
told you that the diamonds are fake, but that never bothered me. Mostly because
it was a gift from Scott, your real dad. And I know he abandoned us both in the
end, but I loved him, and this ring always reminded me of a happy time in my
life. Plus, it goes with everything.
I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have.
Love,
Dawn
Ps- If you’re wondering about the beaded panties, I
never wore them. I just found them amusing. They glow in the dark!
I looked at the jewelry and the note and tried to imagine her
writing it and tucking it away, knowing she didn’t have much time. She probably
laughed about the panties and then regretted it because in the end laughing
always made her wheeze and cough.
And even though I didn’t have a nice feeling about Scott, I
liked having something he gave her, something beautiful. I liked knowing that
he was good to her. At least for a while.
I turned to the shoebox and opened the lid.
Right on top there was a picture of her and a man that I assumed
was my father because there was something familiar about his face, especially his
eyes. They were the same almond shape as mine. In the picture, they were at a
barbeque and they both had massive smiles on their face.
I have to admit, it was kind of a relief to know that I was
conceived in love. It meant something to me, something that made me feel…
buoyant. Especially when so many kids are conceived by couples that hate each
other and countless orphans grow up never knowing if their dad raped their mom.
I felt lucky that didn’t happen to me. I had a lot of questions about the
circumstances, of course, but I knew where I came from enough to know that it
was a good place. Even if it wouldn’t have been good place to stay.
Next there were a whole bunch of pictures of Dawn and Mark doing
totally crazy shit, obviously before I came along and before he fucked off. But
it was nice to see her looking so happy. And who wouldn’t be in those
situations? There were pictures of them bungee jumping, drinking in hot tubs,
flicking the camera off at rock concerts, and smoking joints on ski lifts in
short sleeved shirts. There was even one of Dawn dancing at a club so hard that
her hair was drenched in sweat and plastered to the side of her face.
Then there were pictures of Dawn and Tina and she was younger
again. And in every one she looked so… vibrant. There was a shot of them in
front of places I recognized like the pyramids and the Eiffel Tower, but then
there were ones I couldn’t place, too. Like the one where she was smoking
hookah with a bunch of random black guys who were all drinking wine out of
cardboard cartons and wearing jelly sandals. Africa, maybe?
And then there were funny ones. Dawn making a sad face with a
horrible sun burn. Her pointing a snorkel at a warning sign for jellyfish.
Another of her pointing at a leech where it clung to her leg in a forest
somewhere.
In the next bundle she was older again- maybe thirties-
backstage with the Strokes? Then hanging out of sidecar in San Francisco,
pointing at the sign for Bleeker Street in New York, and getting her palm read
in New Orleans. And it was amazing to see that one person could do all that
stuff. It was unfathomable to me.
And to think I was panicked about going to Maryland!
And now I understood. She never could’ve done half that stuff
with a baby or a little kid.
Of course, I didn’t know if she wanted to do those things or if
she because she couldn’t bear to just sit at home after she gave me up. Either
way, the important thing was that she hadn’t wasted her short life. Which made
me glad. Because she’d obviously been happy.
And at the
matching bracelet. Surprise! I always loved the set myself. It’s real vintage
Tiffany. My Mom gave it to me. So there you go. You’re meant to have it. It is
the nicest jewelry I’ve ever owned.
As far as the ring, it’s not valuable. I’m sure I
told you that the diamonds are fake, but that never bothered me. Mostly because
it was a gift from Scott, your real dad. And I know he abandoned us both in the
end, but I loved him, and this ring always reminded me of a happy time in my
life. Plus, it goes with everything.
I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have.
Love,
Dawn
Ps- If you’re wondering about the beaded panties, I
never wore them. I just found them amusing. They glow in the dark!
I looked at the jewelry and the note and tried to imagine her
writing it and tucking it away, knowing she didn’t have much time. She probably
laughed about the panties and then regretted it because in the end laughing
always made her wheeze and cough.
And even though I didn’t have a nice feeling about Scott, I
liked having something he gave her, something beautiful. I liked knowing that
he was good to her. At least for a while.
I turned to the shoebox and opened the lid.
Right on top there was a picture of her and a man that I assumed
was my father because there was something familiar about his face, especially his
eyes. They were the same almond shape as mine. In the picture, they were at a
barbeque and they both had massive smiles on their face.
I have to admit, it was kind of a relief to know that I was
conceived in love. It meant something to me, something that made me feel…
buoyant. Especially when so many kids are conceived by couples that hate each
other and countless orphans grow up never knowing if their dad raped their mom.
I felt lucky that didn’t happen to me. I had a lot of questions about the
circumstances, of course, but I knew where I came from enough to know that it
was a good place. Even if it wouldn’t have been good place to stay.
Next there were a whole bunch of pictures of Dawn and Mark doing
totally crazy shit, obviously before I came along and before he fucked off. But
it was nice to see her looking so happy. And who wouldn’t be in those
situations? There were pictures of them bungee jumping, drinking in hot tubs,
flicking the camera off at rock concerts, and smoking joints on ski lifts in
short sleeved shirts. There was even one of Dawn dancing at a club so hard that
her hair was drenched in sweat and plastered to the side of her face.
Then there were pictures of Dawn and Tina and she was younger
again. And in every one she looked so… vibrant. There was a shot of them in
front of places I recognized like the pyramids and the Eiffel Tower, but then
there were ones I couldn’t place, too. Like the one where she was smoking
hookah with a bunch of random black guys who were all drinking wine out of
cardboard cartons and wearing jelly sandals. Africa, maybe?
And then there were funny ones. Dawn making a sad face with a
horrible sun burn. Her pointing a snorkel at a warning sign for jellyfish.
Another of her pointing at a leech where it clung to her leg in a forest
somewhere.
In the next bundle she was older again- maybe thirties-
backstage with the Strokes? Then hanging out of sidecar in San Francisco,
pointing at the sign for Bleeker Street in New York, and getting her palm read
in New Orleans. And it was amazing to see that one person could do all that
stuff. It was unfathomable to me.
And to think I was panicked about going to Maryland!
And now I understood. She never could’ve done half that stuff
with a baby or a little kid.
Of course, I didn’t know if she wanted to do those things or if
she because she couldn’t bear to just sit at home after she gave me up. Either
way, the important thing was that she hadn’t wasted her short life. Which made
me glad. Because she’d obviously been happy.
And at the
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