Chapter 9 - THE LETTER
Mom wrote instead of calling.
Three pages.
Handwritten.
I read it before giving it to Emily.
Daniel and Emily,
I have rewritten this letter four times because every version kept becoming an explanation.
You were right about that.
I slapped Emily.
Vanessa did not make me.
Stress did not make me.
Christmas did not make me.
Emily’s words did not make me.
I did it.
I also allowed years of comments because correcting Vanessa felt harder than expecting Emily to tolerate them.
That was cowardly.
I told myself Emily was strong enough to handle it.
What I really meant was that I was willing to let the easier person carry the pain.
I read that sentence twice.
Emily read it three times.
The letter continued.
Lily should never have watched me treat her mother that way.
I understand why she may be afraid.
I do not expect access to her because I am her grandmother.
I will wait until you believe contact is safe.
I am sorry.
Margaret.
No but.
Emily cried.
Then said.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I think she finally understands the sentence.”
“Which sentence?”
“That she did it.”
Emily folded the letter.
“Understanding isn’t change.”
“No.”
“But it’s the first thing that looks like it.”
We discussed it with Lily’s therapist.
Then with Lily.
We did not read every adult detail.
I told her.
“Grandma wrote that hitting Mommy was wrong.”
Lily looked suspicious.
“Did she say Mommy made her?”
“No.”
“Did she say Aunt Vanessa made her?”
“No.”
Lily thought.
“Can I write back?”
“If you want.”
She drew a picture instead.
Three people.
Me.
Emily.
Lily.
Then a fourth person far away.
Grandma.
Between them, Lily drew a bridge.
But the bridge was unfinished.
At the bottom she wrote.
Maybe later.
May you like
Mom framed it.
I learned that months afterward.
