Grandma’s Bedroom

by Lucille Powell

I stumbled up the stairs, listening to them creak with each step. I lived in an old house, but something about this room beckoned to me every day. I had to enter and face the fact that Grandma was no longer with us. You can do it. I reassured myself as I climbed the last couple of steps. I sucked in a quick, sharp breath before opening the door to Grandma’s old room.

A cloud of dust emerged from the darkness and I coughed as it wafted into my lungs. I felt a lump catch in my throat as I realised how much I had missed her since she passed away and I swallowed it down quickly, before my emotions could get too out of control. However, it was true. No matter what I told myself, I would always miss her. Her sweet, jasmine perfume and warm encouraging smile.

Pushing aside my sorrow, I let go of the rusty, metal door handle I had been clinging onto and stepped into the room. For you, my Grandma.

Ouch. I bit my bottom lip as I stumbled over a pile of boxes. Where is the light switch? I held out my hands in front of me and ran them along the wall carefully. Nothing. I frowned, annoyed. I waited as my eyes slowly adjusted. As I sat down on the floor, I pulled a nearby box towards me, picked it up and examined its exterior. Not the prettiest of boxes. Despite its unattractive look, I opened it and emptied the contents. Photos? Inquisitive, I continued to search through the remaining objects. After a while, I realized that the photos had Grandma in them, and boy were they old!

I decided to put the photos to the side and look through a different box. This box was a plain, smoky grey colour, and I briskly opened it and explored its contents. Letters? Even better than photos! I smiled, thrilled.

I carefully unfolded one and skimmed over it. Placing it on my leg, I tried to comprehend what I had just read. My mouth hung agape, and my blue eyes began to widen. Alarmed, I read it again. I shook my head in disbelief. I hadn’t read it wrong.

A lonely tear pricked my eye and stung like hell. It was more the fact they lied that hurt me. And even now, after 23 years, neither one of them had mentioned it. I shoved the photos back into the box and ripped up the letter that was still laying on my leg. Why?

I pondered through the pounding of a sudden migraine. Tearful all over again, I let my emotions wind up inside of me like a small, black snake, until it wrapped up my tongue. “ADOPTED?” I screamed through the darkness of the room, as if my mum was standing there looking down at me. Sorry, I heard her voice echo in my head. “NO!” I answered. Then, it hit me.

Where are they? I couldn’t have put them in too far down! I roughly rummaged through the box I had pushed away from me and wished I hadn’t been so angry. Finally, as I was about to give up, I found the large bunch of photos I had thrown in. Silently celebrating, I pulled them out and laid them on the floor in front of me.

One by one, I pressed my face closely to the paper and examined them. Yes, this is the one! I picked out a grainy, framed photo, flipped it over and slid the back off, revealing a handwritten note scrawled across the back of the photo. More secrets…