Synopsis

Reminiscent of Hello Beautiful and The Lying Life of Adults, this powerful narrative delves into social changes from 1970 to 2000 and captures a woman’s journey in a pre-#MeToo era via the tale of a mother who returns to her hometown to face the perpetrator of her childhood abuse.

When a young girl feels complicit in her own abuse, how does that thwart her attempts to build a happy life as an adult woman?

When disturbing memories begin to surface, Marti returns to the small Vermont town she ran away from thirty years ago to face her demons. She drags her unwitting teenage daughter along on the journey—heightening already existing tension between mother and daughter. But Marti is determined to achieve what she’s returned home for: forgiveness for lies told, and revenge for secrets held.

Exploring the vast social changes that took place between 1970 and 2000 and turning a critical eye on times before language such as #MeToo helped give voice to these all-too-common occurrences, What Was Lost is a raw, powerful tale of one woman confronting the ghosts of her past.

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Excerpt

Summer 2000

Ever since Jan mentioned hearing Mrs. Colgan still lived in her house in Chatham, Marti became a scurrying rat searching for a way out of a maze. All exits led to Connie Colgan. Marti was troubled by the casual way Jan dropped this information, yet how could her sister understand? Jan didn’t know Marti’s secrets. The only one who did was Peter Colgan.

Marti struggled to wedge suitcases into the car trunk, both the trunk and her head were jammed too full—The lights, the garbage, what am I forgetting? The avoidance of the real question—What am I doing?—was causing her head to implode with minutiae. Her nerves were lit matches as she steadied herself against the car contemplating what she needed.

Courage. No wizard selling any.

It was happening so fast that she could scarcely believe she was returning to Chatham, Vermont, the hometown she’d run from almost thirty years ago. She put in for family leave at work, fabricating a dying aunt, undaunted by the paperwork on which she documented details of this nonexistent aunt. For nine years she’d worked at this children’s hospital, passionately throwing herself into the lives of children and families she worked with, rarely absent, never vacationing longer than a week, and yet now, suddenly, she’d be gone for two months. Some of the children would die before she returned. Marisol, her closest work friend, puzzled by the suddenness of this leave, quizzed Marti on the aunt she’d never heard of and Marti spun Marisol tales of Aunt Connie Colgan. This further increased her feelings of isolation on the eve of this journey. It made no sense: this compulsion to see Mrs. Colgan in order to correct past lies, all while creating new falsehoods.

Her dream was, that after confessing all to Mrs. Colgan, time would bend and stretch in a way to let her reestablish the relationship she’d had with Mrs. Colgan—closer than an aunt! The absence of that relationship had left her with a deep gulf, and now as Tess, Marti’s daughter, was entering a more difficult age, Marti needed Mrs. Colgan’s guidance more than ever.

She’d told Tess her job was making her use up old vacation time. “Don’t want to waste it, so we might as well get away for the whole summer, right?” she said, trying to spin it, knowing it was upending her daughter’s eagerly anticipated summer in Brooklyn.

Recently they’d had a blowup after Tess stayed out late and lied about where she’d been. Marti knew Tess thought this was the reason for the trip. Isn’t everything about her? She was glad to get Tess away, yet that wasn’t why they were going, and Marti couldn’t share the reason (she wasn’t clear herself). Her daughter’s fury was a festering undercurrent dragging them both down.
Tess was sitting on the stoop, headphones on, swaying to the music of her CD player. When calling her name produced no response, Marti walked over and shook her shoulder. “Huh?” Tess removed one bud from her ear—just one.

“Did you pack the animals’ bowls?”

Tess shuffled—deliberately slow, Marti suspected—into the house, came out and sat again, the bowls clattering beside her. “In the car, Tess, they belong in the car.” Marti gestured exaggeratedly the motion.

“All right, Your Majesty!” Tess took a bow as she opened the door and threw the bowls onto the seat, pausing to untangle her hair from the headphone wires. They shared the same frizzy thick blonde hair, although, at forty-three, Marti’s was already turning a silver white.

It would have been easier to get the bowls herself, but weren’t parents supposed to instill responsibility in children? Wasn’t that the endless busywork of parenthood? She’d envisioned parenthood to be exploring the universe with them and helping them find their place in it; instead, it was brush your teeth, do your homework.

Well, Marti thought, every job has drudge work; even a midwife has the afterbirth to clean up.

Will I finally clean up the mess I made?

“I’ll get Caliban and Precious, and we’ll be off.”

Tess nodded without removing her headphones.

Marti put a can of tuna fish in the cat carrier to lure the cat; Precious only glared while Caliban poked his big dog head in. Marti yanked him out, tuna oil dribbling from his mouth. He’d be fine for the car ride; Precious, however, would climb and claw if not caged. Tess came inside complaining that Marti was taking too long. Marti pointed, and the two of them chased the cat, trying to corner her. Precious outmaneuvered them at every turn. Eventually, they plopped down on the couch, laughing. “God, she’s psychic,” Marti said. “She can tell which direction we’re going before we’ve even decided.”

“We need something unexpected.” Tess sprang up and swung her arm behind the sofa, scooping the cat high into the air with one hand while Precious raised her orange fur and pedaled her legs, a cartoon character in midair. Tess placed the cat in the cage and snapped it shut. “Easy as pie. See, Mom?” Tess took the carrier outside, placed it in the back seat, and climbed in next to Precious. Marti followed with Caliban.

“The front, Tess.”

“Why?”

Marti sighed her mother sigh.

“I know you’re not a chauffeur, but it’s not like we’ll be talking; I’m gonna have my music on.” Still, Tess changed seats. Precious shrieked as Caliban jumped in. He barked in response. Marti hesitated while the sullen daughter, excited dog, and caterwauling cat all looked at her expectantly.

“Okay, let’s go.” She tried to sound confident. “No time like the present.” If you faked an emotion long enough, didn’t you begin to feel it? She turned the car on, half hoping it wouldn’t start.

It was a very reliable car.

About the Author

Melissa Connelly dropped out of high school at age fifteen. Despite this, she went on to receive a BSN in nursing, an MA in special education, and an MFA in creative writing. She’s had a long career working with children in various roles in schools, hospitals, psychiatric clinics, and daycares. Her work has been published in American Heritage Magazine, Ruminate Magazine and the anthology It’s All About Shoes, and she was a finalist for the 2019 Montana Prize. Connelly has a home in the mountains of Western North Carolina but lives most of the year in Brooklyn, New York.

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