January 27th
Rosemary turned the photograph over again in her hand, her fingertips brushing against the rippled edges from a time past. With a couple hours before Lee arrived home, and the minutes counting down until the ultimate confession of her secret, she had come home and pulled the box down from her closet. Perhaps it would inspire her to- once and for all- reveal the secret of her past. She sure hoped so. She needed every last ounce of inspiration she could get. On the sofa table in front of her was displayed the remnants of her former life: a program from "The Pride of Jennico" in which she played the terrific Princess Marie, an old French coin her father had come across in his travels, a various dried rose or two given as a congratulatory gift on a performance well done, as well as other various and sundry items that were common to be found in a memory box. But the photo, it was what she had sought out. Oh, was almost unbearable to look at because of the waves upon waves of pain it brought with it.
In the picture, the girl, a nine-year-old Rosemary, had such happiness in her clear blue eyes. That was before she knew. Knew she was unwanted, unaccepted. Oh, perhaps a part of her had always felt it, but feeling it and actually hearing it and being forced to accept it were two very different things. She focused in on the little girl, bouncy golden curls, and sparkly eyes. She was dressed in a new burgundy velvet dress, complete with ivory satin piping, mother of pearl buttons, and a taffeta waist sash: a gift she had received for her birthday. To accompany the outfit, her birthday present had been a trip to New York, her first time to the theater. They would see A Trip to China Town. Oh how Rosemary had counted down the days! Finally, she would attend a play with Mother. The theater always held some kind of sway over Mother. She was enthralled; intrigued by it, but sometimes it made her sad. Rosemary remembered over their course of trips to the theater seeing the unshed tears sparkle in her Mother's eyes. Before she knew the secret, she thought it was just the emotions evoked from a performance well done. But now, now she knew. There was much more of a story.
Rosemary sucked in a deep breath and braved a brief look at the woman in the photograph. She was the star actress of the performance: a gorgeous woman, who didn't look a day over thirty, with a tiny waist and painted eyes. Even under all the paint, Rosemary could see a similar sparkle that her own eyes held. The woman flashed a big, charming smile at the camera as she hugged the young Rosemary by the waist. For so many years she'd just known her as Avery, the beautiful and talented actress who starred as the leading lady in A Trip to China Town. But ever since that awful day many years later, the day the truth came flooding out, she knew better. The woman looking back at her in the picture was none other than Avery Harriet Strakosch-Richman. Her birth mother.