A Laptop of Lies

As long as I could remember, it was my mom and me against the world. All her other family was either dead or estranged, and I never knew my dad. She didn’t like talking about him. Whenever I asked, she’d get this uncomfortable look in her eyes. She said she didn’t know the guy; it was a one night stand. The only other thing she’d tell me was that I had his eyes. Then she’d quickly change the subject by distracting me with a snack or a fun activity. Eventually I stopped asking about my dad, but that didn’t stop me from imagining who he might be. Each version was more awful than the last… drunk, thief, murderer. Whoever he was, he had to have done something horrible if Mom couldn’t bear to talk about him. Little did I know, the truth was stranger than fiction.

Mom thought I was going to be a boy; she was going to name me Michael, after her father. When I was born, she changed the first name to Michaela and kept the middle name Tyler because she couldn’t think of a way to turn it into a girl’s name. She never said where she got that name, but I had an idea: Ty Rollins, a washed-up rock star from the 90s and Mom’s favorite singer.

Every year Ty Rollins held a charity concert, and every year Mom was there. Nothing would stop her from being there, not weather, not sickness, not financial hardship, not even giving birth to me. I was born less than a month before the 2002 show, and apparently it was a high-risk pregnancy. The doctors told Mom to take it easy for a few weeks, but sure enough, she was at that show with me in a baby carrier because she couldn’t find a sitter. Those tickets were the only thing she splurged on for herself. She said she owed it to him to be there because Ty believed in her when nobody else did. That was the one story she loved to tell as much as she hated telling the one about my dad.

Mom lost her parents at a young age, and the rest of the family cut her off in 1998, when she dropped out of college. Everybody thought she left because she flunked or got into some kind of trouble, but it wasn’t like that. Mom was born with a rare neurological condition, and between the seizures, vision loss, and frequent headaches, she was too sick to keep up with her classes. Not that it mattered to her family. Through no fault of her own, she was unable to meet their standards of a normal life, and in their eyes, the only life worth living was a normal one.

Mom said she would’ve taken her own life if she hadn’t found Ty when she did. She found his music completely by accident while listening to the radio one day, and that song inspired her to keep going. From then on, she was his number one fan. She listened to all his cds, bought every magazine with his face on the cover, watched his interviews on tv, and saved every spare penny she had, determined to get to a concert and meet him someday. She got her chance about a year later.

I’ll never forget the way Mom’s eyes alway slit up when she told that part. There she was, standing like a deer in the headlights with her backstage pass, when Ty Rollins walked right up to her. He shook her hand and asked her name. She said she was so nervous, she could hardly talk! She said she only relaxed when he noticed her jacket, and she plucked up the courage to tell him that she made it herself.

Mom may not have had a college degree or a 9 to 5 job, but she had a talent for fashion design. She said she learned to make her own clothes at a young age because she got tired of being bullied for the frumpy, unfashionable outfits she wore to school - the only clothes her parents could afford. Her family didn’t think much of that talent, but Ty Rollins did. The night they met, he complimented her work and encouraged her to open up a boutique. Mom said she never would’ve believed she could make it as a fashion designer if it weren’t for Ty, and that’s exactly what she did.

The store was called Raven Lunatic, a name Mom chose because it was a play on her first name. Every detail was carefully planned to work around her illness. She chose a location in the middle of New York, where almost everything we’d ever need was within walking distance, because her vision problems prevented her from driving. She replaced the fluorescent lighting with hanging Edison bulbs and put blinds on all the windows except the front display so the light wouldn’t make her headaches worse. That front window had a blackout curtain behind the display so passers-by could see the merchandise, but Mom wouldn’t see the sunlight. She kept a bar stool behind the counter, in case she felt too dizzy to stand, and stocked the merchandise at eye level or lower so she wouldn't have to worry about falling off a ladder.

Despite all her precautions, there were still days when Mom was too sick to work, but she had a plan for that too. We lived in an apartment above the store, so when Mom wasn’t feeling well, she just had to walk up a flight of stairs and leave Geri, her manager, in charge for the day. I learned early on that when I came home from school to a house with no lights on, Mom was sick in bed. That was my cue to keep quiet and only turn on the lights when necessary. Even when Mom was sick, she always had a snack and a glass of water on the table for me when I got home. Usually there was money for pizza too, in case she felt too sick to cook dinner. She would leave a note telling me to wake her at dinnertime, after which she’d help me with my homework, no matter how awful she felt.

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I think Mom was so meticulous about planning because she always knew her illness would kill her eventually. My greatest fear was that I’d come home one day to find her gone. I had more time with her than I thought I would. She lasted until I was a sophomore in college, but no amount of Mom’s planning could prepare me for that day when it came.

That evening, I picked up some Chinese takeout on my way home from my last class. I came home to a dark apartment. That part wasn’t unusual; I knew Mom must be in bed with a headache. The unusual thing was that I couldn’t wake her! “Mom?” I whispered, knocking on her door. There was no answer. Maybe she didn’t hear me, I thought.

I knocked louder. “Hey, it’s Mickie. I brought dinner.” Still nothing.

Something was wrong, I could feel it! Panic setting in, I opened the door - thank God it wasn’t locked - and turned on all the lights, something Mom told me to never do. But she could be mad at me all she wanted as long as she was okay!

“Mom!” She was curled up in bed as if she were sleeping, but when I tried to shake her awake, her arm felt cold.

It was all I could do to keep calm long enough to call 911 and send a text to Geri: Something’s wrong with Mom. She arrived only minutes after the paramedics. “Mickie! Honey, what happened?” she asked, her dark eyes wide with worry. “Where’s Raven?”

At that exact moment, the paramedics wheeled my mom out in a body bag. They tried to revive her, but she was already gone. They said she probably suffered a deadly seizure or brain bleed, given her medical history. Those words were the last thing I remember before dissolving into sobs in Geri’s arms.

I didn’t want to go back to that apartment where my mom died, but I had nowhere else to go. Geri let me stay with her and her girlfriend for a couple of weeks, until the funeral was over with. She probably would’ve let me stay longer, but I couldn’t depend on her forever.

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Once again, I returned to a familiarly dark apartment, but this time I knew Mom wouldn’t be there. The place felt so empty without her! Every time I passed her bedroom, I half-expected to see her sitting at her desk, hard at work on a new fashion design. I couldn’t bear to look at that empty room, so I closed the door, leaving everything just as she left it. I never wanted to set foot in that room again, but about a month later, I got a call from Geri.

“Hey, honey. How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m functioning.” That was the best I could hope for anymore.

“That’s good. Listen, I know this is a difficult time for you, but I need your help. Raven was working on some new designs for the Fall collection, and I need to get those to our sewing department if they’re going to be ready in time. They’d be on her laptop.”

The laptop that she kept in her bedroom.

“Mickie? Are you still there? I can come over and get it myself if that’s easier for you.”

“Yeah. No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.” I had to; Mom wouldn’t want the store to die with her!

Taking a deep shaky breath, I turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Everything was just as Mom left it: the blackout curtains drawn, the photos on the walls, the glass of water and bottle of medicine on the nightstand, the swatches of fabric draped over the dressform in the corner, and the black laptop on the desk. I grabbed that laptop and stepped right back out. Just because she kept it in that room didn’t mean I had to open it in there!

I sat at the table and turned the machine on. After a minute or two, the blue welcome screen displayed, along with Mom’s profile pic: a photo of her and Ty Rollins taken at last year’s concert. I clicked the “log in” box, and the laptop prompted me for a password.

Mom’s password was easy; it was always my name and the year I was born, sometimes with the odd exclamation mark or hashtag thrown in if there was a special character required. She made sure it was something easy for me to guess, in case I ever found myself in a situation exactly like this. I typed Michaela2002, but the screen blinked “Incorrect password”.

I tried several variations: Michaela!2002, #Michaela2002, Michaela2002!. Each time it was the same thing. Incorrect password.

Why had Mom changed her password? Did someone crack her old one and use it to steal her identity? Was there something on that laptop that she didn’t want me to find? More importantly, how was I going to get her designs to Geri if I couldn’t get into her laptop?

I had two options. Either call an IT guy, which would take too much time and money, or try to reset the password myself. At the bottom of the login screen was a box marked, “Reset your password”. It was worth a try! I clicked the box and entered a new password I’d always remember: #RavenK7922. Little did I know that something as simple as changing a password could change my whole life!

To my relief, the login screen disappeared, replaced by Mom’s desktop background - a collage of Ty Rollins concert pictures taken over the years. I opened her files and, true to Mom’s meticulous nature, found the designs in a folder labeled “Fall 2022 Collection". As I started to click out, another folder caught my eye. A folder labeled “For Mickie”.

Curiosity piqued, I clicked. The folder was full of Ty Rollins junk: song lyrics, magazine scans, recordings of past performances, pictures of him and Mom going all the way back to 1999. What did all this stuff have to do with me? Ty Rollins was her thing, not mine! At first I thought she’d mislabeled the folder… until I saw it. It was a document titled “Dear Mickie”.

When I clicked, there was a letter from Mom:

My dearest daughter Mickie,

If you’re reading this, I’m gone. Sorry to be so blunt! How does one even begin to write a letter like this? I’m afraid I owe you an apology on more than one count. I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around longer for you, and most of all, I’m sorry I haven’t been completely honest with you about your father.

You were named for the only two men I ever loved. One, as you know, was my father. The other was my idol and friend Tyler Rollins. He is your father. We had a two-year secret relationship, which I broke off when I learned I was pregnant with you. I never told him about you or the real reason I ended things. I did it to protect you both.

Years before I met Ty, another fan tried to baby trap him. Of course, it came out years later that she faked the whole thing, but enough people believed her story at the time that it affected his career. I knew those rumors would start again if word got out, and I couldn’t make either of you the target of scandal. So I lied.

I can’t imagine how you must feel right now. Feel whatever you need to feel, but if you need someone to blame, blame me. Ty knew nothing about this! If he had and if I knew him half as well as I thought I did, he would’ve loved having you as his daughter just as much as I did. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I hope for your own peace of mind that you’ll someday understand why I did what I did. You were the light of my life. I love you both.

Your loving mother,

Raven

My hands trembled as I pushed the laptop away. I couldn’t believe it! My whole life was a lie. Not only did Mom know who my dad was all along, but my dad was a famous rock star. A famous rockstar who was still alive and might actually want to know me. What should I do? Gain a dad and risk the scandal Mom spent her life protecting us from, or lose a dad and protect the secret Mom took to her grave. I didn’t have the answers for myself. Where was Mom when I needed her most?