Selkie

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

My birth mother's house was adorable.

It was like stepping into a 1950s time capsule. No, that's not quite it. It was more like stepping back in time and walking onto a movie set, something starring Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. I could almost imagine a perfectly coiffed Starlet sweeping into the living room in a fit of feminine despair. There was a pink chaise lounge under the window and a cream and gold rug over the carpet. The curtains on the windows were a soft rose.  Someone had opened a window so they fluttered softly in the breeze. Everything looked ancient, but it was undeniably spotless.

I wondered who had kept up the dusting. It had been well looked after even though no one had lived there for years. The empty fridge proudly displayed a cleaning service magnet, and not much else. The magnet sported a smiling young woman in rubber gloves and "Cleaning won't kill you by why take the risk?" in a font that could best be described as Girl-Boss. But, I couldn't deny that Colaina's Cleaning Services did a phenomenal job. 

I didn't realize that I had been starting to picture what my birth Mom was like until I saw the house. I had an image of her as young and scared. But, this was not the home of a young woman. Whoever lived here had to be at least a hundred years old—either that or she had an unhealthy obsession with all things vintage. 

There were clusters of framed pictures artfully arranged in the living room. Most of them starred a woman who looked like me. She laughed at a party in a gown. She sat surrounded by children at what looked like a church picnic. There was one on a beach that looked like a vintage ad. But they were old, old pictures. 1950s pictures. She really did look like me, though. The same dark brown hair, round eyes and an upturned nose. But there was something sad about her. She looked resigned in all of the pictures - even laughing and smiling. It broke my heart. She broke my heart.

I guessed then that this wasn't my mother's house after all. It must have been her mother's. This sad, pretty woman must have been my Grandmother.

Was she lonely? Did she know about me?

If I had a Grandmother why was I given away?

When I started to tear up, I knew I needed to call it a night. There would be plenty of time to snoop in the morning. In fact, nothing was stopping me from spending the next year poking around and combing through every inch of this house. Is it snooping if you technically own the place?

I went up the stairs silently praying for clean and dust-free sheets, Colaina did not disappoint. Up the stairs and to the left was a lovely bedroom. Dust-free and well-appointed -- if you like little pink roses and white lace. The sheets smelled fresh, though, and the moment I settled into them and closed my eyes, I fell fast asleep.