Dear Jayme. 4th Letter.

Emily 23 June 2004

You visited Second Chance Adoption Agency yesterday where your records were kept. You were out for over four hours and I was wondering what happened to you. Your father and I waited, I cannot say we did it patiently for I was pacing up and down, hoping the best for you.

Jayme, do you remember when you were five? You fell off whilst trying to learn how to ride a bicycle and started bawling. The blood poured from the gash made by scraping against the rough gravel. I remember Richard running over and asking why were you crying. The wound was not deep and was not big, your father insisted on your being a man and tried to stop your cries. I held you close and you whimpered ever so softly, “Mummy, I tried..”. You’ve always been a perfectionist at everything, that is why I felt a need to be perfect around you.

As you walked through the front door, it was visible that you have been drinking. Your lively walk was now a slow bumble, alcohol reeked from your clothes. You were not drunk, I don’t believe you’re drunk, you were just aimless. You lost your motivation and bearings. You pushed past me without a single word. I knew it didn’t bode well.

“Jayme? Are you alright?” You grunted in reply before sitting on your bed, throwing a white envelope at me. I caught it and opened it up, a slip of white paper floated to the carpeted ground.

SECOND CHANCE ADOPTION AGENCY 

This is to certify that baby boy,                      , is officially named 

JAYME PETER STYMEST

aged 12 weeks after birth, April 1987.

“Oh, honey,” I edged towards you, “It doesn’t matter, you could always try again…” You cut me, not with a knife but with your words. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Mother,” you whispered to softly it chilled me, “If I can’t find my beginning, then what’s the point of my end.”

You hinted suicide. Suicide. My baby wanted to die. All I could do now, Jayme, was to try to hold you together and cling on to you, just like how your real mother should have learnt to.