If you are reading this, then I failed at the one thing I most wanted to do, which was protect you while I was alive. So I am trying to protect you after.
I pressed my fingers to my mouth.
Mom had always written in blue ink. Always. She said black ink felt too final.
The letter continued.
Your father was not always cruel. I need you to know that, but I also need you to understand that not being cruel once does not excuse becoming cruel later. I spent too long forgiving the man he used to be while living with the man he had become.
That sentence split me open.
Grandma didn’t touch me. She just stayed.
Valerie has envied you since you were born. Not because of anything you did, but because love came easily to you. Your grandfather used to say you were the only baby who could make an entire room feel forgiven. Valerie hated that. She hated that I became a mother. She hated that I stopped orbiting her drama.
I remembered Valerie at birthdays, always arriving late, always making jokes that sounded harmless until later.
If she is in that house, it is not by accident. If Jack lets her stay, he has chosen comfort over you. Believe his actions. Not his apologies.
I read that line three times.