The screen door slammed shut. Myla raced in the house after her last day of sixth grade. Her straight A’s defined her as a great student, but her lonesome weekends were filled with books. She was home alone, her mom was at work until 6 o’clock during the week, yet she still hid in her room. In her hand was the phone as she ran upstairs. Alice, her 7 month old kitten, was curled up on the foot of her bed, fast asleep when Myla jumped on the bed. Alice was startled awake but ran still over to be in Myla’s lap and bat at her long, brown braids. Myla quickly dialed her uncle, eagerly bouncing up and down until he picked up.
“Uncle! Hi Uncle!” Myla shouted, squeezing Alice in excitement.
“Myla my darling, how are you today? You’re all done with the sixth grade!”
“Yeah, I’m ok. Momma’s still at work right now so I thought I could talk to you.”
“...I’m actually... busy writing something at the moment dear, is it alright if I talk to you later today?” Uncle slowly said back.
“Oh, sure, ok. Yeah I’ll talk to you later then.” Myla looked down at Alice in her lap and started to fidget with her long fur. “Bye Uncle,” Myla said much softer and put down the phone. She glanced over to her nightstand and her eyes shifted to the small stuffed lamb limply sitting against the wall. It was the only thing she had of her father before he died. Myla didn’t remember anything about her dad, but once she saw an old picture of him tucked away in Momma’s drawer. She was studying his deep brown hair and ocean blue eyes when Momma caught her and put the picture in another hiding place. Myla suspected the top of her dresser. The lamb was very special to Myla, she never slept without it. Even though her classmates thought they were all too old for stuffed animals, Myla would never ever give up her lamb for anything.
Myla was reading a new book when the front door opened, which caused Alice to escape out of Myla’s grasp. She groaned, swung her legs to the side, and slowly got off her bed to greet her mom.
“Hi Momma, how was work?” Myla asked as she sat down on the stairs.
“Just a normal day, I helped the surgeon in the morning, then just worked with the other doctors, today was just checkups.” Myla’s mom answered, rushing to unpack her bags and get out of her work clothes and into pajamas.
Myla’s mom, Caroline, worked at the hospital in the center of town. She used to own her own store to sell the clothes she loved to make, but it wasn’t enough to support Myla and herself once Father died. Caroline had auburn hair that cut off at her shoulders, but she usually wore it up in a tight ponytail.
* * * * *
It was a Saturday morning at the fairground when Uncle got sick.
The two girls wanted to do something special with Uncle since it was almost his birthday.
“Hey Momma, can we go to the fair? Uncle said he was excited it finally came to town,” Myla asked Momma.
“Let me call Uncle and see if he wants to go. I have to work at three, but we can go before,” Momma replied and took out her phone.
While Momma was talking to Uncle, Myla went to go find Alice again. This time she was fighting with the birds through the window but was interrupted by Myla picking her up and scratching her stomach until it was time to leave.
When they got to the fair, Myla wanted to go on every ride and play every game. Momma and Uncle warned her that the games were rigged and she wouldn’t be able to win anything, but she still begged and begged. Momma allowed her to play one game. She aimed the water gun at the target to win the spray race and kept her finger on the trigger for the whole race.
“Come on Myla! You can do it! GO MYLA!” Uncle was shouting from behind her, waving his cane in the air with his left hand, but put it down due to unusual pain. Myla was the second one to win the water water race, so she was able to choose a ‘Small Prize.’ She picked the blue squirt gun. When the little boy who won first place walked by with his towering teddy bear, Myla looked down at her little prize and sighed. Uncle noticed and he bent down on his knees and whispered the classic rhyme into her ear, because he could never bear to see Myla upset.
“First is the worst, second is the best,” Myla’s nose crinkled with laughter about the old saying and she completed the phrase.
“And third is the one with the hairy chest!” They both were laughing when Momma, who was on a work call, gave them her patented Be Quiet, I’m On the Phone look. Uncle patted Myla on her head and continued walking with his arm around her shoulder.
The rest of the morning was full of Ferris Wheels and fair food until they were walking back to the car. That was when Uncle dropped his cane. Myla looked over as he started to grab at his chest. He was complaining it hurt when he collapsed gasping for air. Momma rushed to pick him back up off of the ground.
“Uncle!” Myla screamed and ran towards him, but Momma just pushed her away.
Families walking by came instantly to offer their assistance. Momma and Myla were screaming as Uncle started to lose consciousness. Momma scrambled to find her phone and called 911. In less than fifteen minutes, the ambulance rushed in the parking lot.
They stole Uncle from Myla and Momma.
Myla couldn’t see anything through her tears, or hear anything through the ringing in her ears and the blasting sound of the siren. She managed to make out a handful of medical words, but the two words ‘heart’ and ‘attack’ stuck out. Myla’s own heart dropped and her eyes frantically darted through the ever-growing crowd of people she was stuck in, looking for Momma.
“Momma! Momma where are you!” Myla cried, voice cracking from terror.
Momma came running to Myla and rushed her to the ambulance where they both climbed in next to Uncle who was strapped in the stretcher with an oxygen mask strapped to his face, eyes closed and chest still.
* * * * *

She sat on the hospital bed next to Uncle and blocked all of the bad thoughts out of her head. It was 10:37 at night and all Myla wanted to do was stay with Uncle. The calmness of his breathing as he slept and the seemingly steadiness of the heart monitor gradually made Myla fall asleep.
Myla woke up in her own bed.
When she hazily opened her eyes and saw the glow-in-the-dark stars on her own ceiling instead of the water stained tiles of the hospital, she knew that Uncle was gone. She thought of the day at the fair and started to feel the tears burning at the back of her eyes. She turned over and reached to her nightstand to get a tissue, but saw an envelope leaning up against her tissue box. Her cry caught in her throat as she looked harder. She turned on her lamp and picked up the letter. On the front of the envelope, in Uncle’s admirable handwriting, was Myla.
She quickly tore the envelope open, took out the letter, and began to read.
My dearest Myla,,
If you are reading this right now, I am so terribly sorry that I had to go. But now starts a new chapter in your life, as I need you to do something very important for me. I have created a special journey for you. In this envelope you will find a piece of paper with an address and the name of a person. I need you to go to that address and talk to said person. Say that your Uncle has sent you, and that person will give you further instructions. My dear, throughout this journey, please remember I love you so much and I would never want to do anything that will hurt you.
Good luck,
  ~Uncle
Myla’s tears stopped and she reread the letter over and over again until she knew the words by heart. She then put down the letter and searched through the rest of the envelope. There was a small piece of paper with the address, “145 Maple Road, Apartment 206,” followed by the name “Anka Holewinski.” Myla wasn’t familiar with the name, but did remember seeing the street sign on her way to school. She hurriedly put everything back in the envelope and quickly went to bed so she could start her journey the next morning.
When she woke up, even though she was still grieving, her mind was also filled with excitement for the journey he planned for her. After she got dressed, she folded up the letter and the paper with the name and put them in her pocket. Myla was prepared to start this adventure once Momma left for work. She walked down the stairs to find Momma already making breakfast.
“Good morning babygirl, how are you feeling?” Momma asked with her own pain in her eyes.
“Hey Momma, I’m ok I guess,” Myla said as her past feelings returned to her.
“I need to leave for work, but Mrs. Darby is right next door if you need her or if you get bored, ok? I love you honey, have a good day.”
“Ok Momma, I love you too. Bye Momma.” Myla watched Momma close the door and head to her car. Her breakfast was eaten in a split second, then Myla got ready to head out for the day. She planned on Mrs. Darby driving her to Maple Street. Mrs. Darby was the typical ‘nice lady next door.’ She was a grandmother and had three cats, who she loved dearly. Her short, brown curls perfectly framed her kind face and welcoming eyes, Myla was obviously Mrs. Darby’s favorite kid in the neighborhood; she always gave her cookies and other treats. Myla headed out to Mrs. Darby’s quaint little house to begin her grand adventure for Uncle.
“Bye, Alice, I’ll be back soon, don’t break anything!” Myla said as she headed out the door. 
Myla walked across the sidewalk and rang her doorbell. Mrs. Darby immediately opened the door.
“Myla, sugar, how are you honey? I’m so sorry about your Uncle.” Mrs. Darby said with a soft face. “Come in, sugar.” Myla loved the fact that she always called her ‘sugar.’
“Hi Mrs. Darby, I’m doing alright, thanks.” Myla made the decision to tell Mrs. Darby about the letter. “Um, Mrs. Darby, can I show you something?”
“Sure, sugar.” Mrs. Darby displayed a consoling smile. “What is it?”
Myla pulled the folded letter out of her pocket along with the address. Myla then continued to explain to Mrs. Darby where and when she found the letter, and asked her what she should do.
“...and I was thinking, can you please drive me to this address? It’s not that far away, I think.” Myla asked Mrs. Darby.
Mrs. Darby slowly repeated what the paper said, “145 Maple Road, Apartment 206. Anka Holewinski. Old Miss Holewinski? She’s been around ever since I can remember. Did your uncle say why he wanted you to talk to her?”
“No, I read the letter front and back so many times, but he never said why. Just that he didn’t want to hurt me or something like that. I’m not sure what he has planned.” Myla responded with a shoulder shrug.
“Well, I guess we just need to find out for ourselves.” Mrs. Darby said, chuckling.
“Yeah I guess so, we can kind of be, like, partners in crime! Trying to solve this mystery.” Myla clasped her hands together as she created finger pistols.
They proceeded to Mrs. Darby’s Chevrolet Caprice and climbed in.
“Plug the address into that Siri of yours. I don’t have that new-fangled GPS or whatever it is.”
“You really need to get a better phone.” Myla laughed and looked up the address.
One of Mrs. Darby’s best abilities was taking someone’s mind off of a heavy topic.
The car ride was only about 7 minutes, and Myla’s heartbeat was getting faster and faster. They pulled into the guest section of the apartment parking lot and walked to the door.
“Excuse me, we are looking for Miss Anka Holewinski, do you know if she’s here, right now?” Mrs. Darby asked the man at the front desk. Mrs. Darby and Myla followed the man’s directions and faced the door which had ‘206’ in big numbers. Myla’s shaking hands reached for the doorbell, then brushed through her hair.
“Coming!” A voice from inside called out with a very thick Polish accent.
Myla slowly looked to Mrs. Darby, fidgeting with the piece of paper, and the door opened. A short, old woman was revealed. Her gray hair was pulled back in a clip, and she was wearing a woolen shawl, even though it was summer.
“Who are you?” The woman quickly spat out with a frown.
“Um, good afternoon. My name is Myla, are you Miss Anka Holewinski? I think my Uncle sent me to talk to you.” Myla asked the lady.
Miss Holewinski’s face instantly softened, and ushered them in after looking left and right through the hallway.
“You’re Francis’s niece? But if you are, that means that he’s…” Miss Holewinski trailed off as Myla slowly nodded her head. Mrs. Darby and Miss Holewinski sat down on the floral couch and Myla sat in the chair across from them. Myla and Mrs. Darby were looking around the woman’s living space, decorated with paintings of birds and a portrait of her family.
“Do you understand how important of a person your uncle was? He went all around the world saving little kids from poverty and danger. When I was 5 or 6, he came to my town and saved every child. He was our guardian angel, he brought us all to the shelter he worked at. There he put us in the hands of his brother, James, your father. He was very kind, too, they all were, but I don’t remember much more.” Miss Holewinski explained.
At the sound of her father’s name, Myla’s head instantly dropped, and she whispered, “My father died when I was a baby, I don’t really know a lot about him, Momma doesn’t like to talk about him that much. But it’s nice to know he was a good person, I guess.” Myla said, avoiding eye contact with Miss Holewinski.
Miss Holewinski eyes squinted with confusion for a split second, but the confusion was replaced with sympathy once she realized Myla didn’t know what she knew.
“Well,” Miss Holewinski said, clapping her hands once and clasping them together, “I have something for you then. Your Uncle gave this to me to give to you once you came. It’s all yours now.” She handed Myla a new envelope with her name on it. She stared at Uncle’s handwriting for a second, then turned it over and ripped it open. Inside was another letter with another piece of paper. Myla took out the letter and read softly to herself.
  Myla,,
So now you have met Miss Anka Holewinski. She was a dear friend of mine, and that of your father’s and mother’s. I know your father is gone now, but there are a lot of things you don’t know about him. For example, your father is not deceased... I can imagine that this must be hard to believe, you can ask Miss Holewinski for details, but be careful with asking your mother. She is very sensitive to this topic. Enclosed in this letter is another address. Even though it may not seem like it, the person living there needs to talk to you, and you really need to talk to him, too. Please don’t be mad, you needed to know sooner or later. I love you with all of my heart and miss you dearly.
Best of luck,
  ~Uncle
Myla’s hands started to shake again and her breaths became more and more shallow. Her head slowly raised to Miss Holewinski and Mrs. Darby, her eyes switching between the two, who were sitting quietly, watching Myla read.
When she could finally form words, she whispered with a croaky voice, “My father’s not dead. He’s still alive. I thought he was dead, but h-he’s not.”
Mrs. Darby reached out for Myla and squeezed her knee. Myla became silent in her thoughts, wondering where her father was and why he disappeared. She looked up to Miss Holewinski, her mouth silently moving, trying to pick one of the hundreds of questions she wanted to ask. Miss Holewinski understood what Myla wanted and started to explain everything.
“When you’re father, James,  joined the project that your uncle was in, the one helping children, he was one of the kindest, loving people there. As the years went by, your uncle and your father began fighting more and more frequently. Your father eventually quit, and went out to get away from his brother, but also to start a family. He moved to this town when he was in his late twenties, and met your mother, Caroline. It was pure love at first sight. It wasn’t long after when James asked her to marry him.”
Miss Holewinski offered the both of them a drink and continued when they declined. “Their marriage was perfect, until James stepped into the dark world of drugs. He hid his abuse of drugs and alcohol from your mother as long as he could, until the day you were born. Your mother never noticed something was wrong with him since she was so busy with work and her pregnancy. But he couldn’t bear to be a father when he couldn’t even bear being a husband. So, he left at night. Your mother came to me once he left, she was so confused. I was too, but we discovered that he wasn’t coming back. I probably shouldn’t say much more without asking your mother. But don’t be mad at her, she didn’t tell you for your own good.”
Myla’s mouth was hanging open as warm tears rolled down her chin, onto her neck. She was livid, the maddest she had ever been. She didn’t know exactly who she was mad at, her father, her mother, everyone else.
She stood up, knocking the chair over, “And no one told me any of this!?!” She screamed and ran out the door. Miss Holewinski and Mrs. Darby both tried to reach for Myla but she stormed out as fast as she could, opening the door so hard that it slammed the wall, and not bothering to close it.
Mrs. Darby put her hand on Miss Holewinski’s shoulder and said, “Thank you for everything, I should go check on her, have a nice rest of your day.
She found Myla crying in the car when she climbed in. Mrs. Darby made the right choice of remaining silent until she drive Myla home. “Goodbye sugar-” Myla hurriedly got out of the car and ran to her house. Momma was already home.
Myla flung the front door open and surprised Momma who was making dinner. She glared at Momma as hard as she could, cutting off her greeting, and ran upstairs to her room. Momma knew what happened after listening to Miss Holewinski’s voicemail she left when Myla was in the car. Momma softly knocked on Myla’s door and prepared an explanation.
“Hey babygirl, I owe you an apology.” Momma said softly.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, since you couldn’t even give me an explanation about my father for my whole life!” Myla yelled, getting off of her bed.
“I did it to protect you!” Momma yelled, backing up against the wall. “I didn’t want you to grow up knowing your father was an addict, but if you let me explain you’ll understand.”
“Fine!” Myla crossed her arms as she leaned on the bed.
“Your father was ruining his life day by day, but once he saw you in that newspaper article where they interviewed you about the local animal shelter, he reached out to me. He said that when he saw you, he wanted to change his life. He went into rehab and, it’s a miracle, but he’s off of drugs and he really wants to meet you.” Momma said, taking a step towards Myla.
“But I know nothing about him. And he wants to meet me? He knows nothing about me either.” Myla said.
“There’s this one picture I have, you found it a couple months ago. It’s of your father from before you were born.” Momma handed Myla the picture.
The picture was her father at the beach posing in front of the wave, his brown hair dirty from the sand and blowing through the wind. His eyes matched the color of the sea, a piercing blue. Myla held the picture with both hands. She stared at his face, trying hard not to stain the photo with her tears. She looked just like him. Momma enveloped Myla in a hug while they both cried.
“I need to meet him.” Myla said, looking for a safe place to put the picture.
“Yes babygirl, I know. He told me he would be ready to meet you whenever you wanted. The address on that paper in the envelope on your desk, that’s his house. We can go today if you want.”
Myla agreed to that plan and quickly dried her tears. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited, nervous, or a mix of the two. Myla brushed her hair, grabbed the lamb, and said a quick goodbye to Alice as she head out. The door softly shut, and Myla joined her mother in the car. On the paper that Myla was holding was the address of her father, “47 Chapel Street,” folding it over and over again as they headed to his house. Momma was mindlessly switching through the radio stations when they pulled up to his front door. Myla took a deep breath, looked to Momma with wide eyes, and unbuckled the seatbelt.
As they were making their way along the walkway, Myla noticed the flowers lined up against the walls and the plastic flamingos scattered around the yard. Myla was finding it hard to believe that now her father was just a normal person, yet he had been out of her life for so long. Momma rang the doorbell then stepped beside Myla, putting both hands on her shoulders, gently shaking Myla in excitement.
The door clicked and creaked open and Myla’s father emerged from the doorway. He looked exactly like the photo, give and take a few wrinkles. No one knew what to say, but the dog inside was barking non stop.
“Myla...” Her father whispered. “Look at you, you’re all grown up.”
Myla stayed quiet, but studied his face, not knowing what to say.
“Come on in, come on in. I put out some lemonade if you want it.” Her father continued. They sat down in the sunroom, the bright rays from the setting streaming in. Momma asked where the bathroom was, and left to use it. That left Myla and her father sitting across from each other.
They were finally face-to-face. Myla had gathered enough courage to ask her father the burning question. Much to her dismay, she was hating him less and less. Her eyes quietly moved down to her worn-out sneakers while fumbling with her lamb and mumbled, “I just want to know why you left…”
She heard a tiny breath escape her father’s lips as he bent down on his knee, which reminded Myla of Uncle. He put his finger under Myla’s chin and slowly tilted her head so he could look her in the eyes. “I knew - I just knew I wasn’t going to be good enough. I wasn’t good enough for your mother before you were even born, and when I-” He took a moment to breathe. Through his choked back tears he continued, “When I saw you for the first time at the hospital, I knew I couldn’t do it. I was so sure I was going to make both your mother’s and your lives way harder than it should be. And look at you, you don’t deserve that. I left you that lamb to give you something to remember me by. You wouldn’t believe how incredibly hard it was for me to leave you and your mother, but by staying, I would have been putting both of your lives at danger. I know it sounds impossible, but I am asking you to maybe forgive me.”
Tears were falling down Myla’s face as she struggled to sit still. All of her life she fought with the fact that he didn’t want her and now she had to struggle with letting him back into her life. Myla’s father switched to the couch she was sitting on and hugged her, he held her for as long as he could. Momma came out of the bathroom to find them both in tears, and she joined the hug.
* * * * *
The new school school year started, Myla was in the seventh grade. Each day she was becoming closer and closer to her dad and he was slowly regaining Myla’s and Momma’s trust. She didn’t want it any other way. She went to see her father every weekend and they took day trips to the mountains or to the pool, and sometimes Momma tagged along.
With a new chapter in her life and a new character in her story, Myla’s life was all she wanted it to be. Her father moved to her town and remained sober for the rest of his life, and Momma quit her job at the hospital to reopen her store.
Myla was in her room with Alice in her lap when she finished her book. She put it down and looked up to the wall to the framed picture of her, Momma, and her father. She took a deep breath and hugged Alice, turned off her light, and fell asleep, excited to see what the future would hold.