Cyprus

Sliding down the bathroom wall, I dug the diary out from inside the jumpsuit and clutched it against my chest, on the verge of busting into tears. I had been trying since I left the station to recall a single memory from my past or a plausible explanation for the diary they had found. There was nothing.

The faces of my parents went no deeper than that single picture. They were a one dimensional figment of my imagination, a shiny piece of paper that gave me no answers.

Birch's name was written boldly in black ink on the pages inside, and there was no denying that he had been a part of something, but what it was. . . my head wouldn't go to that place, it refused to let me imagine that the love of my life would have kept this from me.

Maybe someone else wrote this. It's possible that this girl isn't me.

Birch wouldn't lie to me for all these years. . . would he?

I didn't want to believe it. That would mean my entire life had been a lie. Everything I thought I had, the great family fate had entrusted me to. . . it would all be fake.

It's you, this is your diary. Stop trying to force it to be something else.

I felt different than I thought I would. The second I saw Birch in the parking lot, my chest tightened and my heart sped up. Sweat beaded up on the back of my neck and my body began to tingle with nervous twitches. Inside I was torn up, split between running into his arms and darting in a different direction.

I wanted to scream and demand answers. I wanted to throw myself into his chest and let his embrace comfort me like it had so many times before. I wanted to slam the diary in his face and force him to tell me everything; where it came from, whose it was, and why it was in our home.

This treacherous mix of needing him to make me feel safe and confronting the dark truth dug into my brain with razor sharp talons.

What if I'm wrong? What if the police are wrong?

I couldn't imagine putting Birch through any false accusations or heartbreak from a lack of trust. Deep down I loved him, but if this all turned out to be true, then what?

What the fuck am I going to do?

Why the hell can't I fucking remember?!

Pushing the diary against my forehead, I wished it would feed me the answers I needed. Desperately I begged the pages to spill their secrets until every piece of my body surged in pain.

This isn't working. I have to look deeper.

Resting the book in my lap, I opened it and started reading it from the beginning. The first few entries were simple, they lacked any real depth or emotion.

Fiona went on and on about how she couldn't wait for summer camp and that she really hoped she would get the set of earrings she wanted for her birthday. She talked of a boy at school she thought was cute, his name was Dylan, and I guess he had really dreamy eyes.

She liked to draw, and I found that strange, because not once had I ever picked up a pencil and a piece of blank paper to doodle or sketch a damn thing. You would think that if this little girl was me, even without my memories, there would still be certain traits that we would have in common.

If that was my past, then the person I once was truly had been erased. That girl had been wiped off the face of the earth, along with anything that resembled her.

Page after page, I read her thoughts, trying to link that girl to myself. Fiona enjoyed watching ice skating, she hated tomatoes and onions. She loved animals and really wished for a dog one day, but had to settle for the time being with a ferret named Rocko.

She hated her bony knees, and how her pinkie toe curved in. She had a best friend named Emily, and both the girls wanted to marry the singer from some boy band when they got older. They even had a pact, that if the singer chose one over the other, then the girl left out would still marry the second hottest guy in the group.

Line after line, I watched this young girl's life transform. She documented when she got her period at twelve, and how she was afraid to tell her mom because they had never really talked about it before.

There was a fight she had with her parents about going to some movie, and how she couldn't wait till she was old enough to finally get her license to drive. But nothing in there gave me that 'aha' moment and open up Pandora's box inside my brain.

Her entries slowed down around the time she turned thirteen, writing on and off, then nothing before the entries that changed her life.

Knock! Knock!

Snapping my head up, I didn't answer the taps on the door. I sat quiet, listening and hoping that whoever it was would just leave me alone. I couldn't deal with this. I had thought I could, I had expected to walk outside and not feel any type of fear or uneasiness. In my mind, everything would be the same until I figured it out.

That didn't happen. Birch's hand on my shoulder made me quiver, forcing me to question everything he had ever told me. Nick's pep talk when we got home made me sick, my stomach churned and I felt the vomit as it sat in the back of my throat. All I could imagine was him storming into my home and killing my parents.

I wanted to have a family so badly, maybe I missed the reality at my feet. . .

Holding my breath, I stayed quiet, sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest. Staring at the door, tears swelled over my eyes, making the room blurry. Short quick bursts of air snapped through my lungs as I did my best to not break down and sob uncontrollably.

Wiping them away, I exhaled gently, doing my best to not lose it and stay sane. I had to keep a clear head, I had to be able to pick apart all the details of what I did know to see behind the surface.

Fuck! Get it together!

A few more knocks racked the door making me jump. Dragging my hands through my hair, I licked my dry lips and spoke as casually as I could. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright in there?”

It's Birch. . .

“Uh, yeah, I'm fine.” Forcing my voice to stay steady, I choked out a few words. “I'll be out in a minute.”

“You sure? You didn't seem okay at all after we left, and you've been locked in there since we got home.”

Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes. “I'm good, Birch, really. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Sure, no problem, I'll be downstairs.” His feet vibrated the floor as he walked off, and I could hear the sound of his steps as he went down the stairs, leaving me alone.

Birch didn't believe me. I could tell by his voice he knew I was full of shit. I hated lying to him, I had never really done it before. It was stupid of me to think that he wouldn't notice something was up.

Why do I feel bad about not being honest, when he's been able to keep up this lie for years?

Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought.

Exhaling, I stretched my legs out across the floor, unable to filter the jumble of shit inside my head.

A part of me was excited to learn about who I was, while the rest was anxious and upset about what this all could mean in the end.

The man I loved with everything I had could be a fictitious character that never existed. Just the thought sucker punched me in the gut, leaving me keeled over in a pain I didn't know what to do with.

I thought that losing my family was the worst kind of hurt. . . I was wrong.

Pushing myself up, I stripped free from the jumpsuit and tossed on some clothes. Stepping to the sink, I turned on the water and splashed my face. The water felt good as it cleansed my skin, erasing the salty tears.

Leaning over the sink, I let the cold water run down off my chin. Every drop was a mix of sadness and pain, disappearing into the drain forever. I didn't want that for my life, I wasn't ready to lose everything I had with Birch.

I couldn't just forget the feelings I had for him. I wasn't ready to walk away from the love I felt inside. Deep down, I still wanted the feelings between us to be real. I just had to find a way to build a bridge over the trench that had just opened up.

I'm going to figure this out. I have to.

I'm strong, I can do this.

All the answers were right there inside me, everything I needed to know the truth was in my brain. I just had to find it. Standing up straight, I dried my face and fixed my hair, ready to hit this thing head on. I deserved more than this, and so did my parents.

Opening the bathroom door, I stepped over everything the cops had discarded on the floor and stashed the diary under the mattress on my side of the bed.

For now I wasn't going to let Birch know I had it. I planned on taking my time, reading it again, allowing her messages to sink in with the hopes that it would ignite some flame in the back of my mind.

Making my way downstairs, I found Birch and his Dad in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from the raid. “They really did a number in here, huh?” I asked, slipping into a chair at the table. “I don't remember it being this bad before.”

Grunting, Nick flashed his eyes at me over his shoulder. “They really wanted to find something today.” Turning back to the cupboard, he stacked the plates inside and closed the door. “Valentina would have shit herself if she saw it like this.” Chuckling lightly, he shifted against the counter and leaned back. “Remember that time she went off on that cop? When she got in his face and reamed him a new asshole for dumping her grandmother's silverware on the floor?”

Birch grinned and nodded his head. “I do. She did that thing with her eyes where they went all crazy, throwing her arms all around and shit.” Flicking his eyes to me, he smiled. “The guy actually picked them all up one by one as she gave him orders on where they went.”

“That's right, your mother knew how to throw her weight around.” Nick's face lit up, his eyes getting that twinkle I always see when he talks about her. “The good thing is they didn't find shit. It's not like they ever have, I don't know why they would think this time would be any different.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my fingers as I picked at my nails.

Nick scoffed, going back to straightening up the counter. “Of course I am. Like we'd really be that stupid to keep anything involving those assholes in here. The fucking cop even had the balls to tell me that he expected to find them in here.” Shaking his head, he meticulously set the coffee pot and toaster back in their respective places.

“I wouldn't be so sure.” Instantly I wanted to shove my foot into my mouth. I shouldn't have said that, but it came out on its own.

Birch walked towards me, taking the seat at my side. “What do you mean? Did they say they found something? What do they know, Cyprus?”

Shrugging my shoulder, I couldn't look him in the eyes. “No, it's just that after what happened at the beach, how can you be so sure that they didn't find anything? There was a contract with Antoine's signature on it, there could be witnesses that saw us driving there or leaving. You don't know for sure what they know.” Slowly, I let my eyes flutter up to meet Birch's. “Maybe they found something you thought they never would.”

His brows dipped in hard, head tilting in wonder. Birch stared at me, questioning what the hell I could mean. His gaze began to shift around my body, as if he was looking for something.

A wire. . . He thinks I'm wearing a wire.

“I'm not tapped if that's what you're thinking.” Holding out my arms, I leaned back in the chair. “Go on, check if you want to.”

“What the fuck are you doing? Why are you talking like this then?” Drawing his thumb over his lip, he flicked his eyes between his father and me. “It's like you're a different person.”

“Oh yeah? Who do you think I am then?”

I wasn't sure exactly what I was trying to do. It was like I wanted to entice him to tell me, but I couldn't spit out the words I really wanted to use. My tongue refused to speak what my brain was telling it to.

Fear. Fear was the binding holding me stagnant. Fear of the truth, fear of the unknown,  fear of losing everyone I loved all over again.

I just want to be wrong. Let all of this be wrong.

I wanted to think that maybe they had both been trying to protect me. Maybe it wasn't what I expected it to be at all. Maybe they found me with that diary and were trying to help me heal without reopening the wound.

His name is in there, you can't ignore that.

Fuck! Why the hell did this have to happen?

Why couldn't things have just stayed the way they were?

“What the hell is going on with you, Cyprus? I don't understand—”

“Birch,” Nick snapped, whipping around to face us. “Give the girl time to relax. Of course she isn't herself, she just went through hell with the cops. You got to let it settle. And they didn't find shit, we know better than to leave breadcrumbs for them to follow.”

Nibbling on my thumb, I looked between them. “Is that what you think? Do you think letting it settle is all I need?” Standing up quickly, I felt my eyes begin to tear. “Because right now I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing.” With heavy strides, I stomped to the sliding glass doors and tore them open.

I was a fucking mess and I knew it. I didn't want to be around either one of them right then. I couldn't be.

My mouth was about to go on a rampage of its own and I wasn't sure I'd be able to control it. I knew it wasn't fair for me to just jump down their throats. I wanted to take more time, read the diary over and over to see if my memory would return on its own.

I wanted my memories of the past and what happened. Even if they weren't good, even if they would change everything I had now, I wanted them.

No more lies, no more bull-shit painted with gold to lead me one way or another.

I didn't want to learn about who I was or what happened from someone else. I wanted to know it for myself, I wanted to see it for myself.

It was time.