#PartyBoss isn't a term Tulip Carpenter coined herself but she wears it with pride. Her life is a party, she's doing what she loves, creating mindblowing celebrations for the happiest moments in people's lives. But when the baby she put up for adopt...
Fuck sleep. Tulip mumbled the statement as she flipped over the thirteenth time. She threw her covers off and rose out of her king-size bed no longer wanting to lure the sandman into her bed. He wasn't coming. Sleep wasn't gracing her presence. Her wandering mind made sure of that. It couldn't just linger in dreamscapes and multicolored fantasy. It was occupied with the developments of reality. She was hyper-aware that there was another soul resting in her adobe and couldn't rest. She was too stressed, wondering if Sydney would have a good night in the foreign guest room.
She fought the inkling to peek into the guest room. Was it too quiet? She shook the question out of her mind. She was the only sleepyhead up at a quarter to two. She tiptoed away from the door and brewed an entire pot of coffee and not the single-serving Keurig that William gifted her for Christmas. It was his way of helping cut her latte expense. It didn't really slash her coffee cost but it did match the silver, sleek color scheme of the other appliances she nabbed at Bed, Bath, & Beyond.
At two-something she was surrounded by piles of sorted clothes, bedding, and towels in her laundry. How could one person accumulate so many dirty clothes? She wondered the same thing as she gawked at the heaps with a twisted mouth. She was just one person.
One person that didn't wash regularly. Sure. But she was still just one person. Now, she had a two-person household which meant more clothes. More towels. More detergent. More of everything. The realization sent her in a spiral that led her quick footsteps to the kitchen. She was sure her fridge and pantry weren't ready for the new addition soundly sleeping in the full-sized bed under the geometric comforter.
No eggs. Sparse on butter. Where the hell was the milk? Her fridge was bare of the essentials. She lived on delivery and junk food. It was a diet that suited her busy 'I don't have time to stand in front of a stove stirring a pot.' She worked through hunger pangs, binged on Reese's cups to fuel her because peanut butter was healthy. Or was it? She didn't wholly know but it tasted good and gave her energy to perform her work task until it was time to clock out.
She wasn't a neanderthal. She ate plants, though. However, her vegetable bin wasn't proof of that. The only thing it presently held was a bag of carrots that looked like they were plucked from her backyard, which was far from the truth. She grabbed them at Trader Joe's during a shopping trip with Niesha as a healthy alternative to her snacking habit. It didn't work. The twisty roots springing along the orange veggie was evidence of the failed experiment.
Tulip poured herself another cup of java, opened her laptop, and loaded her virtual shopping cart with all the essential goods to stock her fridge and pantry. She might have clicked a few things she didn't quite need like the Aztec clay mask or the quart of gelato but she was never one to shy against splurging on herself.
Treat yourself was an adage she regularly followed. If not her then who would? Right? She wasn't going to wait for anyone to answer that question. She was going to pamper herself even if she had someone that would.
Her shopping cart came to $73.57 and she hit checkout before second-guessing her decisions. The only catch, she had to wait until eight for the delivery person to knock on her door. She quietly shut the fridge and closed the pantry door and went to the next article that obtained space in her mind. The binder Lola left behind. She called it Sydney's Ledger and the contents intrigued her from the moment it was handed off to her.
At four-twenty eight, Tulip took a big gulp of her warm hazelnut coffee and settled on the couch with the binder in her lap. An envelope in the pocket beckoned her curiosity immediately. She assumed it would be a confidential document but once she pulled out the tri-folded copy paper she knew she was wrong.
She wasn't faced with typed 12-font words but neatly, spaced words that didn't float or sink on the stark white lineless paper. The next thing that grabbed her sight was words at the top of the page. To Tulip. Her throat instantly went dry. Her eyes traveled further down to the paragraph where Amelia didn't hold back with formalities but simply put, I'm dying.
Although Tulip knew Amelia's fate prior to unfolding the letter she couldn't help but get teary-eyed. There was no way she could fight them or shove them back into their ducts. The rest of the letter wouldn't permit it.
******
To Tulip,
I'm dying. No amount of chemo will grant me life. It's time that I stop fighting and make arrangements. And the biggest arrangement I must make is placing my darling child in the care of another. The thought of not being there for the biggest, life-changing moment of her life wrecks me with guilt and sadness that causes my hand to waver at this very moment but I have to. I need to. Sydney Claire King is my heart. I love her with every cell in my body, although I don't have many healthy ones at the moment. They all still love her. And the only person that I know that loves her as much as I do is you.
You have granted me a gift I wasn't able to acquire on my own accord. I can't thank you enough. You gave my laughs and hugs and never-ending questions from an inquisitive, precocious girl.
Why don't I just leave her with friends? It's probably a question you wonder? It's one I asked myself. I have a lot of them. Fine friends. Upstanding people that moved in prestigious circles but I don't want that for her. I want her to be a normal little girl. No boarding schools in the snowy Alps. It sounds grand but it's not. Not for our little girl. She's an old soul in a tiny body. Too wise for her own good. I want her to be a kid, with slip-n-slides and snowcones. I want her to have camping trips and funny stories around the bonfire. You can give her those things because you've had those things.
I know you may be shocked and frightened but you can do this. You can take care of our girl because you carried her for nine months and brought her into this world. I trust you with her. I can leave this world soundly because she's with her first mother.
******
Tulip dried her eyes with the back of her hand, "Damn, I need s' mores."
Why do you think Tulip didn't get the letter earlier?
How do you think the letter will affect Tulip?
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