The Package -

It started with a simple package wrapped in brown paper, left without an accompanying note, by her door.

It had sat patiently waiting for her all day, her roommate had jokingly remarked as she’d left for an afternoon of classes.

About the size of a shoebox and held shut with bailing twine, on the lid had been her name in bold cursive and a line of symmetrical stamps in the right top corner.

Quite honestly it had been the stamps that puzzled her the most, they drew her gaze like bee’s to a flower and she found herself obsessing over how perfectly aligned they were.

Had the sender of this package spent meticulous time lining the stamps up, bringing out a ruler, a rubber and a pencil to mark the spaces between?

‘You’re overthinking this love,’ a sensible inner voice rationed, sounding so much like her mum that she let the warmth of that voice ground her for a moment.

Of course.

It was probably just a coincidence.

People didn’t spend hours lining stamps up perfectly on a package so obviously old and shoddy, that she was surprised it had survived the journey to her door.

Leaning down to catch the package up she found herself hovering in limbo, her fingers all but brushing the twine, something holding her back.

She didn’t recognize the writing.

Straightening she frowned.

For someone with an eidetic memory, like hers, forgetting the written word in any form was impossible.

Unease a lightning bolt to her senses. Could it be from him?

But why would he be trying to contact her now?

After all this time…did he think her acceptance of this strange, suspicious package doubled as forgiveness?

She should call her mum.

Ignoring the other students and general hustle and bustle of the corridor around her, she slid down to sit knees tucked under her chin.

A brief struggle through her bag past notebooks, errant pens and a half-eaten bagel she’d quite forgotten about, her fingers wrapped around the steadying weight of her smartphone.

A simple press of thumb to the touchpad and she was greeted by the homepage background, the image snapped a month ago on a night out, of her and two others laughing as they huddled in for a selfie.

With no time for reminiscing, she quickly opened her phonebook and hit the call button for the contact labelled,

‘Home’.

It didn’t take long for the other end to be caught up and for her mum to sing a happy greeting.

Releasing the breath, she hadn’t realised she even held, she let herself relax back into the worn wood of her door.

“Hey mum, it’s me.”

“Ellie! How are you love?”

She could picture her mum if she closed her eyes tight enough – well into her fifties Evangeline May Fitzgerald had single-handedly raised three sons and her daughter on her own after the breakdown of her marriage.

Tall, slender with broad shoulders and laughing brown eyes a lot of people said Ellie was her mirror image. Except where her mother had lovely chocolate curls, Ellie had her fathers’ straight dirty blond mop.

It had bothered her once she’d learned about why her mum came to both Mother and Father’s days at school.

“You don’t know if Eric, Bryce or Josh sent me any packages – do you?” She asked a little plaintively, fingers worrying at a thread found on the hem of her jumper.

A muffled sound into the receiver as Evangeline shouted into the distance, returning a moment later with a negative.

“It’s just – “the thread had grown, “I found a package waiting for me today, outside my door. No note just…my name on the front.”

A beat of silence.

Her mother’s innate ability to pick up the threads of Elli’s thoughts was exactly why she’d called her.

“Do you think he’s sent you something?”

Ellie slid the package a guarded look, “Maybe?”

“Love,” an uncharacteristic silence as Evangeline struggled to find the right words, “perhaps he’s remembered that it’s your birthday this weekend. Eighteen is a big one kiddo, an important one.”

“Important events have never mattered before,” Ellie muttered rebelliously, instantly sorry when Evangeline sighed dejectedly.

“I know, baby. Maybe he’s changed.”

Ellie wasn’t sure she wanted to go down that path, she’d been down it once before and the scars had yet to fully heal over.

But she wasn’t about to admit to the most important person in her life that she’d lied a month ago when she said she couldn’t come home for the weekend because she was going camping with friends.

Instead, she’d taken a Greyhound bus to the city, searching for the man who had left them all those years ago.

Her eldest brother, Eric, had been the one she called to come to get her several hours later.

He’d been the one who held her as she cried over the man she had found, the disappointment a crushing weight that had sat hard on her chest for months afterwards.

Eric had also made her promise not to tell their mother that she’d gone looking for Thomas P Kiosk.

Their father.

Because although Evangeline would understand the compulsion to know one’s sire, she would also feel that it was a need driven by something she hadn’t been able to provide.

“Have you had a look inside?” Evangeline asked cautiously and Ellie drew in a shaky breath.

“No…”

Another silence.

Then, so softly she wasn’t sure she heard her right, Evangeline said – “Maybe you should.”

Instantly Ellie made a noise of rejection, “Mum-“

“Wait…listen,” a shuddering breath, “I know you went to see him last month and it’s okay, baby. It is. But you should know the man you found…that wasn’t the man I married. He wasn’t that man, you understand? He was driven and intelligent and he was going places – he had plans and dreams and…and the drugs…that came later. He was a good man. A good husband – father. Open the package. Maybe – just maybe – inside is the man I chose as your father.”

Something cold hitting her hand and Ellie realized she was sitting outside her room crying, in full view of those passing and it was enough to push her upright. One-handed she opened the door to her room, toed her shoes off and slung her bag into the corner.

Distracted Ellie sighed, “Can I – I’ll call you back, in a bit.”

“Course baby, I’ll keep an ear out for the phone if you need me.”

Dropping the phone beside her on the floor, Ellie braced her back against the bed and crossed her legs, the package sitting innocently in front of her.

Heart racing Ellie rubbed sweaty palms briskly against her jean covered thighs, wondering if perhaps she should grab the scissors from the top draw of her desk to deal with the bailing twine.

A hot flush of annoyance at her irrational behaviour made her reach out and rip the makeshift bow in a single action, unravelling the twine in an act that was hilariously simple and anticlimactic all at once.

Snorting Ellie ripped the lid off in a similarly deliberately quick action – then sat stunned.

“What in the world…” she mumbled already reaching for the first lot of envelopes, also tied together into a group with bailing twine.

Embolden and curious she quickly dispensed with the twine and opened the first one, wide eyes taking in the ‘Happy 1st Birthday’ written in gaudy pink across the cover. The 1st had been crossed out and inside in the same bold, cursive writing like that on the lid were the words.

'They didn’t have any ‘Congratulations’ cards, which is crazy considering this is a hospital after all, so I compromised and mashed up a birthday card instead.

Happy Birth, my little Ellie, I’m so proud to have been your daddy. '

Something tight took up residence in her chest as she moved through the first pile, reading letters, cards and even postcards all addressed to her during that first year of life.

Reaching into the shoebox she thumbed through all the piles, quickly taking in the dates printed neatly in each corner.

One pile for every year, right up until this one, her eighteenth.

Confused, hurt and angry she left the piles unopened and stood, restless and edgy.

“What the hell,” she sent a closed fist punching into the pillow on her bed, paced away and returned to do it again.

“What the hell!”

Grabbing her phone, she went to dial a familiar number and then stopped, unwilling to open any wounds Evangeline might have over something she probably had no idea about.

Losing all feeling in her legs Ellie sank onto the edge of her bed, scrolling through her contacts until she came to the one she sought. Unfamiliar and never once rung, she'd managed at some point that weekend long ago to secure it from the man who'd then broken her heart.

Before the calm could lift and make way for panic she hit the call button, holding her breath as she listened to each ring.

Until finally, an answer.

Gruff and unfriendly the voice made the weight in her chest roll over, “What? Who is this?”

“Ellie.”

A noticeable thawing, “Oh. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.”

Wetting her lips Ellie replied with equal honestly, “I wasn’t going to contact you again…but I got your package.”

“Been collecting them letters so long now,” Thomas muttered, “not sure what to do now that you have them.”

“Why?” And Ellie wasn’t sure if she was asking him why he’d sent her a box full of letters, or if she was asking him why he’d left all those years ago.

His silence suggested he wasn’t sure what she was asking either.

“Couldn’t handle the stress kid,” he admitted, surprising her again with his honesty, “never wanted kids, not really, but your mum wanted kids and I loved her. Your brother, he would have been enough, but we just kept getting pregnant. You though. The thought of a daughter – terrified me. Knew I couldn’t be what you needed. Had already started the stuff by then and was hooked. Deserved better Ellie,” if possible, Thomas’s tone had deepened, was gruffer than before, “knew that the minute we found out you were a girl. Knew I wasn’t the man Evangeline needed – or even wanted anymore.”

“So,” Ellie drew in a deep breath, “you left us.”

“The letters made me feel closer to you. I could pretend, just for a moment, that I was still a part of the family, that I was there alongside your mum celebrating all your milestones…”

Something in his tone cracked the apathy that had settled like ice around her heart, “You still love her,” incredulous but somehow not surprised Ellie shook her head, “you still love mum.”

“Leaving your mother didn’t mean I stopped loving her,” Thomas retorted sharply, “I just – I was never meant to be a father.”

The letters Ellie had pulled into her lap begged otherwise, but she wasn’t going to argue with the man, not when it seemed he was determined to wallow in self-pity and self-recrimination.

Her anger, surprisingly, seemed to have dissipated.

A spur of the moment decision had her opening her mouth, “Mum’s organized a party next weekend,” an olive branch extended, “would you like to come?”

The quiet on the other end was heavy with indecision so Ellie compromised, “I could call mum first, make sure there’s space on the list for another guest.”

Make sure you are welcome. Hung unsaid between them. Thomas understood though and released a breath of tension.

“Sounds good, kid.”

Awkward and slightly confused now at how to end the conversation Ellie cleared her throat, fiddled with the twine that had got caught to her sock.

“Okay – well. I mean, I’d better go I’ve just got back from class – I’ll let you know.”

A huff of sound that could have been a chuckle, “Alright. You have my number.”

And she did, the realization that it was another number she could add to those contacts that she called. That she checked on. A light at the end of the tunnel she hadn't realised she stood poised to enter.

The weight that had taken up residence on her chest loosened and a smile spread across her face as she rang off.

It had started with a simple package wrapped in brown paper, left without an accompanying note, by her door.

Perhaps it was going to end up as something more.