What We Left Behind

The Florida sun gently kissed the exposed shoulders of Elena Galanis as she walked toward her grandmother’s home. She held the handlebars of her bike tightly in her hands, repeating the same words she had been silently telling herself on the ride over. Don’t get too emotional with her, you know the second you break down in front of her she won’t be able to handle it. Tell her you’re doing great! Never better, actually. The job is great, your boss Beverly has been totally understanding of this whole situation, she doesn’t even question the terrible behavior at all! Like when I completely forgot to send the paperwork over to HR the other day she didn’t even raise her voice once, even though her eyes were bulging slightly worse than normal. Everything’s fine, you don’t have to worry, Grandma.

But saying it with confidence was not going to be an easy feat for Elena. She definitely was not great. Things were very, very terrible. Beverly was one slip-up away from firing her. The HR paperwork mishap was the third mistake of the day and Beverly calmly pulled Elena into her office to tell her she completely understood what was going on with her. Losing a parent is an extremely traumatizing experience for a person. She had claimed she was concerned for Elena’s well being, but things were getting in the way of her doing her job properly. Elena knew she was trying to be gentle to her since she had been a hardworking employee at the small Miami based marketing firm for 3 years now. This was out of character. But it was also starting to become a problem.

It had been 6 months since her mother’s passing. A little over a year since the diagnosis. Lung cancer. Her mother didn’t even smoke. A couple of months after being diagnosed, she had moved in with her own mother. Elena went to her grandmother’s house almost every single day during those dark months. She would often spend the night, wake up early and go to work from there. Sometimes wearing the same outfit as the day before. Or she would rummage through her grandmother’s closet. She just couldn’t bear to be alone in her apartment most days while her mother was there. Eventually she passed, and the days merged into one ordinary day after another. During that time, Elena was numbed by the reality of what losing her mother meant. Life went on, while Elena struggled to go with it. 

She propped her bike against the house, right next to the ivy growing on the walls that her mother loved so much. She knocked in order to be polite, but just walked in since she knew the door was never locked. Elena found her in the kitchen, watching Bravo on low volume while she baked. Her grandmother loved to bake. Anything from the Greek pastries she grew up learning to make from her native mother, or the chocolate and peanut butter cookies Elena loved as a kid. 

“Hello, Ellie,” her grandmother greeted, turning away from the tv screen and cookie dough long enough to size up her granddaughter. “I’m making your favorites.”

Elena smiled, forcibly, and went to give her a hug. She tried her best to be as quick as possible, but her grandmother held on for too long.

“You’re very thin, Elena. You haven’t been by the house enough to let me cook for you,” she said staring directly into Elena’s bright green eyes. They were from her father; Elena’s mother had dark brown eyes and often told her how happy she was she inherited her father’s vibrant eyes. What did he look like? Elena used to beg her mom for any details about him when she was little. She had never met him, never had even seen a picture of him. He was very handsome, beautiful green eyes and long brown hair that always used to fall into his eyes. And he was tall, soooo tall. Elena would smile anytime they talked about him, but she was always reminded that he wasn’t real to her since they had never met. 

“Work has been keeping me busy, honestly. I promise I’ll come by for dinner more.” Elena scooped a bit of cookie dough into her mouth while her grandmother’s attention was on Bravo for a split second. “I came here to help sort out Mom’s room a little bit. I know she left a lot of her stuff here so I thought I would help you clear it out a bit.”

“That’s nice of you. Why don’t you get started, I was thinking about taking a nap in a bit anyway. If I put a timer on the cookies will you take them out of the oven for me?”

Elena nodded before heading to the now empty room. The room wasn’t necessarily empty. It was a complete mess actually. An artist’s room can be just as cluttered as their creative mind. Elena’s mother was never organized; Elena took the role of adult in the sense that she kept their house clean growing up. She would wake up to a messy kitchen, or paints and canvases strewn across the living room, limiting walking and counter space. It was like living in a two bedroom apartment with a hoarder. Her mother was successful in the Miami art scene so it was more eclectic than it was neglectful. The room was filled with things, but empty of a presence. It felt bare without her mother lighting it up. Without her bright aura oozing from her pores, the room felt dim, unlit. That was just the kind of effect her mother had on the world. Maybe packing up her room was a bad idea. Just the idea of it felt like Elena was walking into a museum and packing up the unique artifacts. 

Three hours later, with one cookie break in between, the room was mostly packed up in shipping boxes. There wasn’t much here, nothing of grave importance to her mother. All of her precious art pieces and equipment was back at her house, the house that Elena was contemplating whether to sell or move into. It didn’t feel right to do either, so for the time being, Elena just went during the day to go through her mother’s stuff. Packing up what was necessary, browsing through her art collection. 

Her grandmother was still sleeping in the room down the hall. She normally took hour long naps; she always said she enjoyed being up at night anyway. Elena could never understand that. But Elena never really could understand any of her grandmother’s behavior. She was so unlike her mother; strict, old fashion, uptight. Her mother was carefree and full of laughter. She could never understand how the two were related. Her grandmother came from a prestigious upbringing. Wealth, security. She had it all and continued the wealth by finding a rich husband. He came from a family jewelry empire. Elena’s mother was strongly encouraged to do the same growing up. She never really did follow in her mother’s footsteps. Besides Elena’s father, she never fell in love with any man who came her way. They were always drawn to her, but her independence was usually no match for them. Elena always liked it better just the two of them anyway.

In the closet, Elena found a box on the top shelf. She reached for it and put it with the others on the floor. She began to rummage through it, finding photo albums, frames, drawings, all things she couldn’t bring herself to look at. Under a framed picture of Elena’s college graduation, she found a letter addressed to her mother. It looked old and weathered. She picked it up and quickly found several other letters under the first, all addressed to her mother in the same elegant handwriting. She glanced back at the bedroom door, something about this felt invasive. It didn’t stop her from tearing open the letter dated November 20, 1993, a little before she was born.

Izzy,

I’m losing my mind over here. I’ve tried calling you several times, you’re never there when I try. I’ve even called you at work but they say you quit, I thought you loved working at that little café? I’m so sorry. I fucked up, Izzy. I didn’t know how to react when you told me. For fucks sake what does one say to that out of the blue? You caught me off guard, Isabelle. One minute I told you that my boat was finished with repairs and the next minute you told me you were late. I was even stupid enough to ask you for what! I didn’t even know what you meant when you tried to tell me. I was shocked. I was stupid. I was an absolute fucking IDIOT. I went to your house to try to apologize because I realized how much I fucked up when I left you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I left you on that front porch. I can’t believe I left you there, Izzy. I would never leave you. I don’t ever want to leave you, I’ve made a huge mistake. Your mother, she wouldn’t let me in. She told me that you didn’t want to see me. I don’t blame you at all. I know I fucked up, please let me explain. Please let me try again, Isabelle. One more chance, I promise that if you truly don’t want me in your life, I promise I’ll respect that. I deserve it. But just give me a chance to try, please. 

My boat finished its repairs. I convinced the captain to stay here for another week before we travel to St. Maarten for the winter. I can’t stand the thought of leaving here without apologizing to you. I can’t stand the thought of even getting back on the boat and sailing away from you, from our life together. I don’t want to go, don’t let me go, Isabelle. 

Love,

Leo

Elena sat frozen. Her feet were getting numb underneath her body, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breath. All she could do was open the next letter, dated November 21, 1994.

My Isabella,

I tried calling again. Forty-six times. I know this because your boss Luisa at the café counted. I went in there today begging her to tell me if she has seen you, begging her to call you for me. She didn’t want to get involved, I don’t think she ever really liked me. She loved you, maybe she could see right through me and knew I didn’t deserve you. She let me use the phone, since I don’t have one on the boat. I have absolutely no fucking way for you to reach me, Isabelle. I went by your house again today and your mom threatened to call the cops on me. She doesn’t want me in your life. I know its because she knows everything, you tell her everything. I love that about you, that you are so open and authentic. You’re not afraid of anything, and I realized that I am afraid of everything. I was terrified when you told me you were pregnant, I was so terrified about making a mistake that I made an even bigger mistake. I tried telling this to your mother but she wouldn’t listen. She went in to grab the phone, she threatened to call the cops on me again so I left. I came straight to the café. I scared Luisa because I looked mad. Drenched in sweat, the Miami heat is unbearable today. But nothing is more unbearable than this silence. I deserve every minute of this hell, but if you could just give me one minute of relief. One minute to explain myself, you have my word that I would never do this again. I would never hurt you again. I don’t want to get on that boat, Isabelle. 

With so much love,

Leo

Elena didn’t even hear her grandmother approach her from behind. She stared at her granddaughter in silence, there wasn’t a hit of surprise in her face. She knew about these letters. 

“Wh-what is this?” Elena stammered. “What are these letters? Who is Leo? Is this about me? Is this my father?”

Her grandmother stayed silent. She thought about how this conversation went months earlier, only with her daughter, Isabelle. She had found them a couple of months before she died. Her mother had hidden them all those years ago when Leo left them in her mailbox. It was a blow out fight. One they hadn’t had since Isabelle was a teenager. Isabelle cried at her mother, begging for her to tell her why she kept this a secret for so many years. Why had she never told her that her only love, Leo, had wanted to win her back. That he wanted to be in her and her daughter’s life. That he regretted the night she told him she was pregnant with Elena. Her heart had broken that night and it never repaired itself after. How had her mother let her think for years that the love of her life had given up on her? She packed her bags that night. She threatened to leave and never see her mother again. That she wanted to die without a relationship with her. She left for her own home, and didn’t speak to her for two weeks. 

“I thought that I was making the right decision at the time,” her grandmother started, unable to look Elena in the eye. “He had hurt your mother terribly the night she told him she was pregnant with you. He told her he was too young to become a father, that he couldn’t stop his life before it even started. He didn’t want that life. He was a sailor; he was a nomad, traveling the world, meeting women in different ports in different exotic countries. I thought he wasn’t serious. I thought he wasn’t any good for your mother who was so young at the time. She needed some stability as her world was about to become unstable.”

The words were being spoken out loud, but Elena felt like she was listening to them underwater. Her mind was blank. All she could hear was her heart thumping in chest. All this time, she knew nothing of her father. She knew that it was painful for her mother to talk about him. It brought her heartache to speak of him, but Elena never knew why. She never asked. 

“How could you keep this from her? Keep this from me! All those times I even asked you about my father. You answered that he wasn’t deserving of me, that he left and never came back, never even tried to reach out. You let me think he never wanted me or mom. How could you do that?”

Her grandmother didn’t answer. Without a word she left the room. Elena couldn’t bring herself to feel anymore anger toward her grandmother. She didn’t feel surprised that she left the room without answering. She wasn’t going to get answers, was she? She could never ask her mother about this man named Leo, her father. She couldn’t even find information on him since the letters are signed only his first name, no return address marked. He was a nomad after all, a sailor always leaving people and hearts behind.

Elena began to collect the letters, deciding to leave the house like her mother did. She wanted to leave and never return again, to this house filled with lies and bad memories. She couldn’t stand being here without her mother’s warmth. But she stopped when her grandmother returned, a piece of paper in her hand. She handed it to Elena, unsure of what to say. 

“Your mother said she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to him. She found his email address somehow. A phone number that may be his. She said that she was filled with too much sadness to reach out. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for everything, for the life he missed out on. She wanted to tell him that she forgives him, for everything he did and said. But she couldn’t.” Hot, fat tears were streaming silently down Elena’s flushed cheeks. She looked down at the paper in her hands. Leo Alvarez. Her mother’s handwriting. Beautiful cursive. An email address along with a phone number was written below her father’s name.

“She didn’t want to tell him she was dying, but I know she wanted to thank him for everything he had given her. First love, excitement, you.” Her grandmother reached for Elena’s hand. The gesture charged with apology. “I don’t think she ever messaged him.”

“I have to go, I’m sorry. I can’t be here right now,” Elena stood up and grabbed the only box left behind by her mother. She walked out the front door, past her bike, and walked in the hot evening sun. She walked with tears streaming down her face. All of the emotions she was stuffing so far deep inside of her since her mother’s death burst to the surface. She couldn’t suppress them anymore. 

Cars drove by, but Elena didn’t notice. She raced back to her own apartment. It was a twenty minute walk from her grandmother’s house. After what felt like only a minute, she was standing in front of her apartment door. Sweat pouring down her back, soaking her beige tank top. She let herself in and sat in front of her computer, contemplating what to do next. She pulled out the paper with her father’s email address on it. It was damp with her sweat, but her mother’s letters were untouched, perfect. She did the only thing she could do in that moment, she began to write him back.