The Truth

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I skipped school the following day, not telling my parents. We were taking a drive, that was all he said. He was silent the entire time. I didn’t grasp why. We pulled up in front of a large apartment complex; it was in a rather run down area. It looked shady. 

“What is this place?”

‘This…” he sighed. “Is where my mom lives.”

“Whoa,” he nodded. “I-I thought you said… I thought she left you when you were three.”

“Yes, she left, but Morgan, my aunt, told me where she ran off to just before she moved out when I was fifteen. My mom moved back here I guess when I was ten, about that.”

“How could you not tell me that?”

“It… it hurts.” He said softly. “She ran off when I was three, ran all over I guess. Then she moves back, a few hours away, and she still didn’t even care about me.” He gripped the wheel. “It kills me to know she’s been so close to me all these years. She’d rather live in a dump like this than be with me.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I need you to do this one for me, please?”

“What?”

“I need you to give the song.” He handed me a copy of the music. ‘He wrote it for her, all those years. I know he wants her to have it. Ask her if he left me anything.” He sensed my hesitation. ‘Please, I can’t… I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” I nodded, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “How do I find her?”

“Her last name is Waltmen now, her maiden name was Cox. I suppose you could just ask for her apartment number.”

“I’ll be right back.” I kissed him and got out of the truck. I skittishly walked inside, and looked at the wall of mail boxes; it had the last names of the tenants. She was in apartment 32C. I started up the many steps, the elevators were out. I heard lots of yelling, and banging around. It felt so creepy. I knocked on the door, and knocked. It finally opened, the chain up, a pair of eyes looking between the cracks. I swallowed hard, he had her eyes.

“What?” she snapped.

“H-Hi, are you Miss Waltmen?”

“Are you a girl scout?” she said snottily. “What the hell do you want with Miss Waltmen? Does she owe you money?” I shook my head. ‘Is she being served?” I shook my head. “I’m Anne Waltmen.”

“I’m Finley Aims, I really need to speak with you, it’s very important.”

She sighed and opened the door, standing in a pair of torn up denim shorts and a green and blue over sized striped shirt, her bra was out, she didn’t seem to care. She waved me inside, I followed, shutting the door behind me. She poured herself a glass of some alcoholic beverage. “Do you want some?” I shook my head. “So, spit it out girl.”

“I’m supposed to give this to you.” I handed her the letter. She gave me a look and opened it. “It’s from your ex husband.”

“Des? Didn’t he off himself?”  I frowned and nodded. ‘He finished it, I’ll be dammed.” She laughed. “Did you know, he’d try to finish this so many times, calling me all the time saying he had my song almost finished, and it’d win me back.”

“Your son finished it for him.”

“My son?”

I stared in disbelief. “Yes, your son, Harry? Remember him? He found out that Des left him all these little clues, one of them was to finish the song, bring it to you, you are supposed to have the next clue.”

“I don’t have any clue,” she shook her head and ripped up the sheet music. I let out a little gasp. “Who are you to Des? Did he have another kid?”

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