Chapter One: Thirty-Four Boxes and an Envelope

Hiram and Leroy Berry had thought about it for years. The first time was when Rachel was a mere two months old. She was such a needy infant, always crying. Always needing something.
The second time was when Rachel was three and had had a temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store for some unknown reason, as she was apt to do when she did not get her way. At least they told Rachel they weren't sure when she had asked them about it several years after the fact and she was curious about why she had gotten mad that long ago day.
The third time had been when she was five. They weren't sure why they had thought about it that time. Though, secretly, they knew why…they just didn't want to admit it out loud, or even to themselves. They hadn't want to admit it because it would be admitting they were wrong, something they never did.
Then they knew for sure when she was eleven. For four years now, they had wanted to find Rachel's biological mother and give Rachel back to her. They had no need of her anymore. They knew they were not good parents. They gave into Rachel's every whim when she was younger and hated having to deal with her when she was difficult. They despised school functions, and they hated not being able to do what they wanted when they wanted. And most of all, they hated the times when Rachel asked them about her mother. That had happened when she was four. Again at six. Again at nine. And then at eleven. At eleven, Rachel had stopped asking, but their minds were made up.
Not that they ever truly put Rachel first. Not since she had been eleven, and not really even before. They put themselves first and left Rachel at home alone and they knew it. They didn't feel bad about. They spent money on her, bought her everything she wanted or gave her the money to buy it. They paid for piano, dance, and singing lessons. They let her live her life while they lived their own.
Rachel also knew it, and they knew that Rachel knew it. But they didn't care. Not one bit.
But that was all about to change.
Somehow, Rachel had been able to talk Hiram and Leroy into going to Sectionals. It might have helped that it was on Rachel's birthday and it was the one day of the year now that they tried to act like fathers to the girl. She was singing a solo and wanted her fathers there to see her. They had thought she was going to throw a tantrum, something she still did to try and get her way, so they had agreed. They hated tantrums. They always gave into them. It was how Rachel had accumulated most of her technology. Her laptop, iPods, iPhone, ipad. She had asked the only way she knew how.
But then they saw her. Hiram and Leroy had been sitting in the middle of the auditorium when they looked over to their left, three rows down, and saw her.
Her.
They sent a text to Rachel and told her to ride the bus back to school, that they would pick her up there. They had something more important to do. Very important. Rachel's performance no longer mattered.
Not that they had really cared about it to begin with. They really, truly, hadn't. It had all been a front to keep people from asking questions; especially, since it was Rachel's birthday.
Despite the fact they had left, Rachel had sang beautifully, even if it had been through tears. Luckily the song she sang had been sad. Rachel wasn't able to be happy in that moment.
Mr. Shuester had commended her for her ability to act. To let tears flow during a song that needed them to work. So did everyone else in the show choir, even those who constantly belittled her. She hadn't cared though. It hadn't been about them. It was not about them. This time it had been about her, even if it was only about her in her mind.
She had wanted to tell them all to shut up. But she hadn't. She had merely said thank-you, and then had run to the nearest bathroom. She didn't need anyone's pity. She was despised at school enough and pretended that she had a great home life. It wasn't like anyone would care that she spent most hours by herself, alone, lonely. Even afraid. If it weren't for her boyfriend, she would know no companionship. It wasn't like anyone would care that her loving, gay dads always had better things to do, things that did not involve her. Or, that they really were not all that loving to begin with. That it was all a front, a show. They were putting on the best performance off all time: pretending to live a life they did not live.
While Rachel was upset about them leaving her performance, Hiram and Leroy had quickly done a Google search … why they hadn't thought of it before, they had no idea. It was so obvious. But they discovered where she worked. Then they discovered where she lived. Who cared that they had to pay $49.95 to get her address? They went home and they packed Rachel's things quickly. They did not have time to lose.
They packed everything. Clothes. Posters from the walls. Trophies from dance and singing competitions. All of the boxes under Rachel's bed. Even her diary that she hid under her mattress. They didn't snoop through anything. They didn't care. They never had. They just wanted it all packed and gone, out of their house. They threw everything in the bathroom into a large box, and pulled everything out of the closet.
They packed everything into their two vehicles and then Hiram turned to Leroy.
"I will write the letter and get the transfer papers, if you get the boxes from the basement with all of the baby stuff. She probably would like to see it. She should have it. Everything is in there from before the birth as well."
Leroy had nodded, and then the two men went about their ways.
Less than an hour later, they had everything packed in their two vehicles. Rachel was due at the school any minute.
They hurriedly drove to the school where the bus was just unloading.
Rachel walked over to them slowly when she got off the bus and noticed they were there. She could feel it. Something was up. She didn't know what it was, but it was something. She didn't know whether the thought scared her, or made her nervous, or what. She was still on a slight high after winning Sectionals, despite the fact her fathers had let her down again. It had hurt, she had cried, but now she was over it. Mostly, at least. She figured that maybe it had something to do with her birthday. It was the one day a year that she knew that she could count on her fathers. They always spent that day with her on her birthday.
"Come on, Rachel," Her father, Hiram said. He was the only one who had room in his vehicle for her. She climbed in the car and fixed her plaid skirt and straightened her white sweater that had a Scottish terrier with a plaid scarf around its neck that matched her skirt perfectly.
"Where are we going," She asked.
"It is a surprise."
She didn't ask any more questions. She knew better and it would be fruitless. Asking either of her fathers questions never solved anything. She did not much care for surprises though.
So, silent she remained.
It was not a long drive; though, it was not particularly short either. They were driving in the opposite direction from where they lived. Rachel was wondering why there were so many boxes in the car with them and why her other father was following them in his own car.
Later, she would wonder how she had missed it. Later, she would wonder how she had been so naive. So clueless.
For forty-five minutes they drove, until finally they pulled up in front of a two story brick home. Rachel first noticed the address numbers on the house – 1218 – for two different reasons. One was that the numbers were on a golden star, and the second was because the numbers were her birth date. Rachel always noticed insignificant things like that.
Rachel watched as her Dad climbed out of the car and went to talk to her Daddy. Soon, they were back.
"Rachel, help us get all of this onto the porch."
Rachel merely nodded and climbed out of the car. All of the boxes were taped shut, so she had no idea what was in them. For the next thirty minutes, they moved boxes from the cars onto that porch with the golden star beside the door.
Finally, her Daddy moved the last box onto the porch and looked at Rachel.
Rachel knew that look. It was the look she always got right before her fathers told her that they were both leaving for a few weeks and to make due until they came back.
"Rachel, come here," Rachel walked over to the man and stood in front of him. He leaned over with a safety pin and took a large envelope from his husband. Rachel watched, confused, as he safety pinned the envelope to her sweater. It wasn't that heavy, but what was the point of safety pinning it to her sweater? What if they ruined it? This sweater was one of her favorites. And why couldn't she simply hold it? She was fifteen, not five.
"Rachel. We have to leave now."
Rachel looked up. She had known that look.
"Then take me back home," Rachel told them.
They looked at one another. How did they do this? They needed to be gone before she got here. They had looked online at the school she worked at and they knew that she had her own Sectionals competition to attend with her own show choir. She had been scooping out the competition, but her own show choir competition was thirty minutes away from where Rachel's had been, and had been scheduled later than Rachel's. They figured that she would be home by eight. It was six thirty at the moment.
"You are going to stay here," one of them said. Rachel didn't even know which one. Her head was spinning. She didn't even know where she was at.
"I don't understand. What do you mean I am staying here? I don't even know where here is," Rachel said quickly, her voice rising as she spoke.
"You'll understand later. Right now the only thing you need to know is that this is where you will live from now on. When the woman who lives here gets home, give her the envelope. She will explain everything. Now we are leaving. We wish you well in life. Good-bye, Rachel," Hiram told her. They refused to say the woman's name.
Leroy didn't say anything. He did have the mind to hand her the heavy winter jacket he had thought to grab out of the downstairs closet before they left home though. It was December, and he was sure that Rachel would get cold during her wait, even if it was only a little over an hour.
"You're just leaving me here," Rachel asked, looking at them both strangely.
"It is for the best. Bye, Rachel."
Rachel watched as the two men got into their separate cars and backed out of the driveway. This had to be a joke. Were they serious? Rachel seriously had no idea where she was at, or whose home she was supposedly staying at.
Rachel unpinned the safety pin from her sweater and, using the pointy end, tore at the tape of one of the boxes.
It took several minutes, but she finally tore through the packing tape. She opened the flaps and stared down at clothes she knew had been in her closet. She pushed the box aside. She tore through the tape of her next box. Toiletries. Soap, tampons, toothbrush, combs, shampoo; Every single thing that had been in her bathroom.
She opened another box. Trophies. She chunked one of them out in the yard. It was the only competition her fathers had both attended that she actually remembered.
She opened another box. More clothes.
Another. Her diary was on top, along with boxes that had been under her bed.
The next box had her sheet music. She had been able to play the piano since she was three. She was musically inclined, though neither of fathers were, and she had caught on quickly.
The box after that has some of her shoes and a random pair of snow boots she hadn't worn in more than two years.
She stopped opening boxes after the next one, when she pulled out a stuffed rabbit that had sat on her bed for as long as she could remember. Because, she finally realized that she wasn't dreaming and her life had officially boiled down to thirty-four boxes of various sizes. Lucky for her fathers that one of them drove a large SUV with fold down seats.
Thirty-four boxes. She hated the number thirty-four all of a sudden. Such a horrible, cruel number. A number with no meaning other than pure torture.
It was then that Rachel finally sat on the top step of this random house and let a tear fall.
After that single tear, there was no stopping her. Heart wrenching sobs quickly overtook her body.
But the sobs were silent, not a sound came from her, though her whole body shook for a few moments before she was finally able to be still.
It was always better to cry silently; to cry unnoticed. That way people couldn't tell how badly they hurt you. It was never okay to let people know they hurt you. To let them know they had any type of power over you.
Rachel cried and finally pulled her winter jacket on. She hated the jacket. She hadn't been the one to pick it out. She wanted to burn it. It was red. An angry red. One of her fathers had picked it out and brought it home to her one day last year. She had never worn it. She could not wear something like that to school. She was teased enough about the things that she already wore.
Right now, though, she needed the warmth. She would wear the monstrosity for now. But the first chance she got, she was throwing it in a fire somewhere. Even if she had to start one herself.
Thirty-four boxes was all it had taken to move Rachel out of her fathers' lives completely.
Thirty-four boxes and an envelope.