The Mystery between Them
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I was in the middle of a conversation with my mother when I heard someone say, “Hey.” It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t Mom. The voice belonged to an old man who had been standing behind her for some time now and whom she hadn’t noticed until he spoke up.
He looked like one of those guys you see at bus stops all over town: balding hair combed back from his forehead into a ponytail; thick glasses perched on the end of his nose; baggy pants tucked into high-top sneakers.
His cheeks were rounder than most people’s, which made him look younger but also gave away how much older he actually was—he couldn’t have been more than forty or so. But there was something about this guy that screamed “old,” even though I knew better.
Something about the way he stood still as if trying not to be seen by anyone around us, yet somehow making sure everyone would notice him anyway…
“You’re looking well today, Mrs. Kowalczy!” said Mr. Ponytail. My mom turned red again and smiled nervously before saying anything else. She didn’t know what to make of this stranger, either. As far as we could tell, he’d never spoken to her before.
And why should he? We lived out in the country where no one ever came except other farmers who needed help fixing their tractors. There weren’t many reasons for strangers to come here.
Mr. Ponytail continued talking to my mother while I tried to figure out whether or not I wanted him to go away. On the one hand, he seemed harmless enough. If nothing else, he was polite. But then again, he did seem kind of creepy too.
For starters, he kept staring at me. Not just once or twice, mind you, but every single second he talked to my mom. That alone was weird enough, but it got worse after he told her I was named for a character in one of his favorite books.
“So your daughter is named for the main female protagonist?” he asked. “That must mean she has big dreams! Dreams of becoming a writer someday, perhaps?”
He went on telling stories about me, each one stranger than the last. How I loved watching movies and reading novels (which sounded pretty normal), how I always wore dresses instead of jeans and T-shirts because they felt comfortable (also true).
Then he started asking questions. Questions like, “What do you think will happen next in our story?” Or, “Do you believe in love at first sight? What are your thoughts on marriage?” All things I’ve answered hundreds of times already.
Yet somehow, hearing them coming from another person made everything feel different. They became less like answers and more like prophecies. Like I was being judged by someone who knew exactly what was going through my head.
And judging by the expression on my face, I’m guessing Mr. Ponytail picked up on that right away. Because suddenly he stopped talking and stared at me. Hard. So hard that I almost forgot what I was doing. Almost.
“Your name…” he began slowly, “…isn’t really Lauren, is it?”
It was only then that I realized I’d been holding my breath since he walked up to us. Now that I thought about it, I remembered feeling nervous when I saw him earlier. Nervous and excited. Excited and scared.
Scared because I liked what he was saying, but terrified of admitting it aloud. Terrified of letting myself get close to him. Of giving him any sort of power over me.
But now that he mentioned my real name, I found myself wanting to hear more about it. Why had he called me by such a strange name? Did he know something about me I didn’t know? Was he a friend of mine from school or work, maybe?
A distant relative? Someone I used to date years ago?
All these questions raced through my mind in mere seconds. Before I could ask him anything, however, he interrupted himself and said, “Oh, sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about this. Maybe later, okay? Later, when you’re ready.”
With that, he stepped aside and moved off down the street without so much as a goodbye.
The whole thing happened so fast that I barely registered it happening. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Just like that.
As soon as he left, I let out the air I’d been holding inside me. I exhaled loudly, surprised by how relieved I felt. Until I caught sight of my mom’s shocked expression. It took me a moment to realize why she looked upset, but once I did, I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Mom,” I said between giggles, “what did you expect would happen if you told a total stranger your real name?”
She glared at me with an angry look on her face. “I wasn’t expecting him to leave without even introducing himself!”
“Well, duh. He doesn’t have a reason to stay around. Besides, he seems nice enough. Don’t worry—he won’t say anything about you to anyone else.”
My mom sighed heavily. “Maybe you’re right. Still…it feels wrong. Talking to people like that. Without knowing their names.”
“Hey, Mom. Remember what I told you yesterday?”
Her eyes widened. “About meeting new friends? About opening yourself up to others?”
“Exactly. This guy isn’t some random stranger. He knows all sorts of stuff about me. Things I haven’t told anyone yet. Including you. Which means he can keep a secret. At least until I decide to share it with him.”
Before she could respond, we heard a loud voice calling out behind us. My mom turned back to see a group of young girls walking toward us. She smiled politely, waved, and waited for them to pass before turning back to me.
“Lauren,” she whispered, “you should be careful. There are lots of creeps in this world. People who’ll take advantage of you simply because they think you’re vulnerable.”
“Yeah, well. The same goes for everyone else too, right?”
“You may not believe this, but I agree with you completely. But just remember: If you ever need help, come find me. Okay?”
I nodded silently. And then she kissed me on the forehead and hurried off after the other moms.
***
By the time I got home, I was exhausted. Not physically, though. Mentally, yes. Exhausted from trying to figure out who Mr. Ponytail actually was. Trying to understand his motives. His intentions. What he wanted from me.
What I wanted from him.
For a while, I tried to convince myself that I hadn’t seen him again today simply because I needed some space. That I wouldn’t run into him anywhere else anytime soon. After all, I knew where he lived. I could go visit him whenever I wanted.
But deep down, I knew better than that.
He’d made sure to tell me exactly which house he was living in. Right across the street from our own. In fact, he pointed out two houses in particular. Both were identical twin homes, built side-by-side.
They shared a common wall, separated by a short driveway that led directly to each front door. Each one had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large kitchen, and a spacious backyard.
Perfect for families. Or groups of friends. Like ours.
So no matter how far apart we went, I still had a pretty good idea of where he might turn up next.
Which meant I needed to start thinking seriously about what I was going to do when I finally ran into him again.
And I had a feeling that day would be coming sooner rather than later.
When I walked through the front door, I immediately noticed something different. Something missing.
Normally, my mom kept the dining room table clear of clutter. All of our bills and paperwork were organized neatly in a small stack of folders, along with any mail that came addressed to both of us. Every week, she sorted through everything and filed it away in its proper place.
Then, every Friday night, she cleaned the entire area thoroughly. By Saturday morning, it always looked brand-new.
Today, however, the only things sitting on top of the pile were two glossy black envelopes. Their edges curled slightly as if someone had opened them recently. When I picked one up, I saw that the seal was broken. As I read the return address, I realized that these weren’t the usual letters from the bank or credit card companies.
These ones contained official-looking documents. Legal papers.
A divorce petition.
It didn’t surprise me much. We’d been fighting nonstop since last summer. Arguing over money, work schedules, parenting responsibilities, and household chores. It seemed like nothing we did ever pleased either of us.
Sooner or later, we’d get fed up with each other’s constant bickering and call it quits.
Except now there was another problem. A big one. One neither of us could ignore anymore.
Our marriage was officially ending.
The thought sent shivers running down my spine.
After all, I loved my dad more than anything. More than life itself. And even though I couldn’t stand being married to him at times, I never once considered leaving. Even during those rare moments when I felt like screaming,
“Get out! Get out!” I managed to restrain myself long enough to make peace. To patch things up. Because I knew that wasn’t an option.
Now, suddenly, it was.
As soon as I finished reading the first document, I dropped it onto the floor. Then, without saying a word, I grabbed the second envelope and headed straight upstairs. Once inside my bedroom, I tore open the letter and scanned the contents.
Everything appeared to be in order. According to the court clerk, my parents’ case was scheduled to begin tomorrow afternoon. At noon sharp.
My heart sank.
This couldn’t possibly happen so quickly. Could it?
Surely the judge wouldn’t sign off on such a quick ruling. Wouldn’t he want to hear from both sides before making his final decision? Would he really grant their request for a divorce based solely on the testimony of one witness?
Or maybe they’re planning to have me testify against them. Maybe that’s why they’ve asked me to come back early from school. To give my statement in person.
Maybe that’s what this is all about.
No. No way. This can’t be happening.
I closed the file folder and tossed it onto the bed beside me. Then, taking a seat on the edge of my mattress, I stared blankly at the ceiling. For several minutes, I remained motionless, lost in thought.
Eventually, I began to wonder whether I should try to find a lawyer who could help me fight my parents’ divorce petition. But then, after considering the possibility, I dismissed it almost instantly. Why bother trying to appeal the verdict? What difference would it make?
There was no point in wasting time arguing with the courts. The outcome would remain unchanged regardless of what anyone said.
Besides, I already knew the truth. My parents hated each other. Always had. They just pretended otherwise. Pretended to love each other until they got tired of pretending. Until they decided to end the charade.
Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. Only to wake up hours later, startled by a loud knock on the door.
“Who is it?” I called out groggily.
There was silence.
Then, a few seconds later, the sound of footsteps approached the entrance.
I sat up and glanced toward the window. Through the glass, I watched as a man dressed in a dark suit stepped inside. He was tall, thin, and wore glasses. His hair was short and gray, while his face bore a stern expression.
As he approached my doorway, I recognized him right away. Mr. Davenport, the family attorney.
He held out his hand. “Hello, Miss Collins.”
I took it hesitantly.
Mr. Davenport smiled warmly. “Good morning,” he replied.
For a moment, I stood frozen in place. Then, slowly, I lowered my arm and returned the gesture. After shaking hands firmly, he turned around and started walking toward the living room. I followed behind him.
When we reached the sofa, he pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit next to him. I complied immediately. Then, placing his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and looked directly into my eyes.
“So, how are you feeling today?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. How about yourself?”
His smile widened. “You know, I’m actually quite surprised by your reaction to yesterday’s events. Normally, people tend to react differently upon learning that their parents plan on getting divorced.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, most children don’t take the news very well. In fact, some experience severe emotional trauma. Especially if they were hoping for reconciliation between their parents. Unfortunately, however, that doesn’t appear to be the case here.”
I nodded.
“That’s good to hear,” he continued. “Because I think the sooner you accept reality, the better off you’ll be.”
I frowned slightly. “What makes you say that?”
A hint of sadness crept across his features. “It’s simple. You’re young. Young enough to still believe in fairy tales. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It means you haven’t yet learned to live in the real world. Which is exactly where you need to be. Sooner rather than later.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” I shot back.
“Not at all. Not unless you let it get in the way of doing what needs to be done.” He paused briefly, allowing his words to sink in. “Doing what must be done. And accepting things as they truly are. Otherwise, you risk becoming nothing more than an empty shell.
A hollow vessel without any substance or purpose. Like those poor souls who refuse to grow up and move on with their lives. Who cling desperately to the past instead of embracing the present. Those who prefer to wallow in self-pity over petty grievances and unimportant issues.
Instead of focusing on the important matters at hand. Like growing stronger and overcoming life’s challenges. Or finding ways to improve themselves so they can become even better versions of themselves. Because only when one has achieved these goals will he finally realize that everything else pales in comparison.
That he’s capable of achieving anything he sets his mind to. Anything at all. Even if it requires hard work, perseverance, and dedication. All qualities are essential for success. Now, I understand that this may seem harsh. But unfortunately, that’s the cold, cruel truth.
Life isn’t always fair. Sometimes, it seems unfair. Unjust. Cruel. However, that doesn’t mean you should give up hope. That you shouldn’t try to make things right. That you won’t find happiness again. No matter how difficult it might be to achieve.
For no one ever said it would be easy. If it was, everyone would have succeeded. Yet, despite its many hardships, life continues to go on. To evolve. And to progress. The same goes for us, humans. We continue our journey through time and space.
The End