Chapter Three
“This one is yours,” he said and inserted his key into one of the locks and I inserted the one he gave me into the other lock and we unlocked the box. After all that ceremony, I thought there would be gold, or money, or diamond rings. Instead I found some odd stuff. There was an envelope with my name on it. There was a rock. It was round, or would have been if it hadn’t been cut in half. The outside of the rock was rough and gray and the inside looked like an agate, but it had been carved out enough to make a space for a little statue. I thought it must be the Virgin Mary, but it was the statue of a little girl in an old-fashioned dress. A really old-fashioned dress, like pioneers wore. She had one of those old hats, like from Little House on the Prairie, she was holding by the ribbons. The bottom of the geode had been sliced flat and a little brass plate was fixed to it with screws. It said “Commemorating 125 years, Germaine Van Bibber lives in the hearts of her townspeople”. It kind of gave me the chills. There was also a plastic crucifix on a necklace chain. The chain was actually pretty nice, it had some gold content and I thought it was weird that the crucifix was only plastic. I put the geode and the crucifix back in the box and took the envelope out. I opened it and removed the single sheet of paper inside.
It was a birth certificate. My birth certificate. The only thing it told me that I didn’t already know was that I, Cynthea Martinez, bastard child, was born in Baker, Oregon. I was born long before the citizens of that town decided to change it’s name back to Baker City. The line for my father’s name was blank. My mother’s name was there in full, Felicia Martinez Arciaga. No mysteries there. Just your usual hispanic name, father’s name first, mother’s name last. The name of the doctor who delivered me was there too.
I put the birth certificate back. Enough for me to know that these strange items existed. Little clues to my past. I didn’t feel like I needed to carry them around. Then I changed my mind about the crucifix and chain. The chain I could get some money for, the crucifix I could make an earring out of and so I took them. I kept paying for the safe deposit box. Let the bank take the rent for it out of the account. This is a weird thing to confess, but I kept going back that box. Maybe once every couple of months. I’d go there and have that ritual with the bank guy. I’d take out the geode and stare at that little girl, little Germaine Van Bibber. I’d think, who the hell are you? Then I’d look at my birth certificate and it would be the same as the last time. Sometimes, I was sure Rockie was there in the room with me.
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