Alderson Boarding House

August 27th, 2023 - The Afternoon I looked out the window of the room I once spent my childhood in. The view still took my breath away, and I was sure I could lose myself in a daydream as I peered into the woods where shadows filled the places the sun did not touch. Where bears and wolves roamed freely, and at one point, I as a young child, went on grand adventures. I pretended to be many things; a brave adventurer, a lost princess, a wild hunter, even a pirate hiding their treasure. The one who was with me on all those adventures was my grandmother, Elise. She would always know the best places to climb to, the best places to hide in, and the best trees to be in to watch the sunset or sunrise. Her beaming smile and wild black hair with streaks of silver were always present in my memories. Until the day we received the call that my parents would not be coming home from one of their many business trips. The bodies of my parents, the pilots, and 4 other unknown people were gone. The officers who came to deliver the news told us that the plane began falling apart in the air and the wreckage spanned more than 20 miles. I didn't understand much since I was only 12 years old, but I understood enough to know that there would be no formal funeral like what happens on TV. There were no caskets to weep over, no faces to kiss one last time, nothing to provide that small bit of closure that some needed in their morning. 3 days later my grandmother's home was filled with so many people it was hard to breathe. It stayed that way for a single week, a week I thought would never end. Some people were from town, while many were from other places. Some had funny accents I didn't recognize and acted in odd ways. There was a boy my age there, I never caught his name. We would play while the adults spoke and told us that the words were not meant for our ears. During those 7 days, he became my adventure partner. Even though I was meant to be mourning the death of my parents, it was fun playing with a kid my age. The best adventure we had was the last one. We had finished eating lunch and we heard the adults yelling, our names were mentioned a time or two. So like any child fearing we were in trouble, we ran outside. We spent a few hours outside playing and climbing trees and hiding from each other. I remember both of us falling at one point. We were scraped up and a little bloody, but nothing a warm bath wouldn't fix. We spent another hour playing hard, probably swapping sweat and blood during our game of tag. Having fun in a carefree way that only kids could have. Then my grandmother was yelling my name. Playtime had finally ended, and the adults were searching for us. I remember thinking about how I was going to take a warm bath and then sneak into her bed and share the many adventures I went on with her. When we got back to the house, my grandmother shattered my heart in mere moments. “Cordelia, go wash and pack your belongings, you’re going to go to your mother's cousin's home tomorrow.” She stated, not looking at me while she said it. “How long am I going to be there Grandma?” I stuttered out, my heart was racing, and my thoughts were going wild. She couldn't mean forever, right? There was no way Grandma, who loves me the most, wouldn’t want me. “For a long time, possibly forever, Cordelia.” She finally looked me in the eyes, her words echoed in my ears. I knew she meant it as her green eyes, the same bright green as my own, peered into mine. This was her “I’m very serious” look and there was no wiggling out of it. The next 24 hours were a blur as I remember pleading and fighting for her not to kick me out. I fought as hard as a child could, but it was useless in the end. I was sent away to a family member's home that I didn’t know. The next 5 years of my life were a living hell. It turned out that said “family” was only after the monthly payments and didn’t care about taking care of a child. I tried for 2 years to reach out to my grandmother, to have her come save me. It was useless, the calls always went unanswered, no matter what number I called from. The emails and texts were always left unread. She saw them but never replied to any of them. At one point, I even sent a letter, which had been returned to the sender, completely unopened. I was 14 and that was the last straw. I decided that she was never going to save me, so I’d become my hero. I’d save myself. I took up a job at a local bookstore that was willing to hire me, mainly because the owner knew my situation. I worked there for 2 years until I was 16, and I was able to graduate high school early and began working full-time so I could make a little more money. I then spent a year working toward getting emancipated. Finally, free at 17, I moved into a crappy studio apartment miles and miles away where I was free at last. The “family member” would get the checks until I was 18 either way, and I made sure to run as fast and far as I could where they wouldn't find me. They never did, and I figured anyone from my family would never attempt to locate me. I was mistaken. 5 years ago On my 18th birthday, I was woken up by a loud knocking on my door. I figured it was the crappy landlord and made no attempt to fix my wild black hair or change from my sweats and ancient Harley-Davidson shirt I had found at a local Goodwill. Yawning, I made my way to the door and was not greeted by the slumlord. Instead, a man wearing a black suit and holding a briefcase stood there. His blue eyes took me in for a moment, and he ran a hand through his brown hair in a way that most did when they were shown something that annoyed them. “Cordelia O'Connell?” he asked in a deep, gruff tone. “Maybe,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Who’s asking and why?” I tried sounding just as gruff. After all, this random guy could go take a hike, he was interrupting my sleep. My highly valued, and needed, sleep. “My name is Patrick O'Beron, I came on behalf of your grandmother, Elise Doyle-O'Connell. I need you to sign the will that has most recently been drafted now that you're of age.” he pushed past me and made his way to the island that served as a table. He began pulling out a stack of paper and a pen. The next 3 hours were filled with legal language that went over my head, secretly I think he did it on purpose. I signed my name in at least 100 different places, and what I was signing was beyond me. He left when everything was signed with a simple, “Happy birthday Ms. Cordelia, I’ll be in touch should anything happen.” The man had been a well-maintained storm that blew in just as fast as he blew out of my home. Sighing, I sat down and looked over a few things that had been left on the table. The first was a business card with his name and office information on it. The second was a package that contained some sort of small box. I opened it and found a note with my grandmother's writing on it and inside the box was a simple silver necklace with a weird Irish knot on it. ‘Wear this always, it will keep you safe.’ “Alright you crazy bat, you send me away and then have some stranger show up forcing me to get carpal tunnel.. and then..” I started laughing while trying to choke down the tears I'd kept away for years, “.. and then, you send some necklace!!” I wanted so badly to throw the thing in the trash and yell and scream. I wanted to lash out. Why the hell does she get to do this to me?! Why does she get to decide when she wants to communicate? I’m still left without the ability to say anything to her. I didn't even think to pass along a note. I just sat and did as I was told. I gripped the note in one hand and set the box with the necklace down. I was trying desperately to calm myself when I noticed one more envelope. Setting the crumpled note aside, I shakily opened the envelope and almost had a heart attack when a check for $20,000 slipped out of it. There was a note from Mr. O'Beron stating it was the first portion of the yearly inheritance I’d receive from my grandfather's death. A man I had no memory of since he died when I was 3. That was the reason my parents had moved back to Alaska to be near my grandmother in the first place. This last piece of information broke me. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes before I felt tears start rolling down my cheeks and a laugh break out again. My emotions were a whirlwind of chaos I just didn't care to control. That night, I called into work for the first time and I had somehow made my way to the local pound and adopted a weird-looking all-black mutt of a puppy and named him Madra, Mad for short. Mad and I had fallen asleep on my bed that night. The note lay crumpled on my table, the check was safely deposited into my bank account where I had no intention of touching it, and the necklace sat on my neck. Somehow feeling me with a warmth I couldn't place. Between it and Mad, I fell into a peaceful sleep that night and dreamed of a forest filled with adventures. – Outside of a check that came in the mail on my 19th, 20th, 21st, and 22nd birthdays, I had no interactions with Mr. O’Beron or my grandmother. They didn’t try, so I didn't either. I figured it was best that way. That this was the safe route to go until something changed. That change happened not even a week ago.