Chapter 23
Rachel still had the same office.
Different furniture.
More gray in her hair.
Same terrifying ability to make grown men answer questions.
She placed a box on the table.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“You can stop anytime.”
“I know.”
Inside were letters.
Court documents.
Photographs.
My original recorded interview transcript.
I did not read that.
Not yet.
I started with Amanda’s letters.
Birthday cards.
Apologies.
One written after her first year in prison.
One after five.
One after ten.
The early letters were awful.
I’m sorry you misunderstood my attempts to discipline you.
I stopped reading.
Rachel watched me.
“You okay?”
“Angry.”
“Reasonable.”
I chose a later one.
Ethan,
I have spent years wanting you to understand me. That was selfish.
You were a child.
You did not owe me understanding then, and you do not owe it now.
I hurt you.
I deprived you of food as punishment and then lied about it.
I frightened you into silence.
I tried to make you believe your father’s love could be taken away.
I insulted your mother because I was jealous of a dead woman.
There is no version of those choices that becomes acceptable because I was insecure.
I stopped.
My hands shook.
Rachel waited.
I continued.
You do not need to forgive me.
You do not need to read this.
If you never speak to me again, I will respect that.
I hope the life I disrupted became larger than what I did to you.
I put the letter down.
Rachel handed me water.
“What do you feel?”
“Everybody asks that.”
“It’s an occupational hazard.”
I smiled.
Then I told the truth.
“I feel like she finally said it correctly.”
“That matter?”
“Yes.”
“Does it change anything?”
“No.”
Both were true.
I read one more.
Amanda wrote about the chicken.
She remembered.
She admitted she took it from my bowl because Lily’s kindness exposed her cruelty.
That sentence hit hardest.
Lily’s kindness exposed her cruelty.
I had spent years thinking the black device exposed Amanda.
Maybe it didn’t.
Maybe Lily did.
A six-year-old saw something unfair.
She did not calculate consequences.
She did not need evidence.
She simply shared what she had.
Then she told the truth.
I closed the box.
“That’s enough.”
Rachel nodded.
“What do you want me to do with these?”
“Keep them.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“I’m not done being a work in progress.”
Rachel laughed.
“None of us are.”
On the drive home, I called Lily.
“I read the letters.”
Silence.
“All of them?”
“Some.”
“How was it?”
“Strange.”
“Do you hate her?”
“No.”
That surprised me as I said it.
I didn’t love Amanda.
I didn’t forgive everything in some dramatic moment.
I simply didn’t hate her anymore.
There was no room.
My life was crowded with other people.
Dad.
Sarah.
Lily.
Robert.
Ellen.
Marcus.
Friends.
Coworkers.
Children I helped.
Amanda had once filled every corner of my fear.
Now she barely occupied a chair.
That evening Dad invited everyone over.
He grilled chicken.
Of course.
His doctor had told him to eat less fried food, so he acted like grilled chicken was a personal tragedy.
Sarah said, “You’re alive.”
Dad looked at the chicken.
“At what cost?”
We laughed.
During dinner Lily announced she was engaged.
Nobody knew.
Not even me.
I almost choked.
“To Ben?”
She rolled her eyes.
“No, Ethan. To a secret second boyfriend.”
Dad pointed his fork.
“Not funny.”
Sarah laughed.
Ben had been dating Lily for four years.
He was kind.
Calm.
A documentary editor.
He knew about Amanda.
He knew about Ryan.
He never treated Lily like a tragic story.
Dad hugged him.
Then threatened him in the gentlest possible way.
“I love you, but if you hurt her, Rachel is still practicing law.”
Rachel, who was at dinner, raised her glass.
“True.”
Ben looked terrified.
Perfect.
Lily’s wedding took place the following spring.
Robert carried a photograph of Ryan.
Dad walked Lily down the aisle.
Halfway there, Lily stopped.
She turned toward me.
“Come here.”
I stared.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
The guests laughed.
I stepped into the aisle.
She took my arm too.
Dad on one side.
Me on the other.
We walked her the rest of the way.
At the reception, she explained.
“You were there before I even knew what family meant.”
I hugged her.
“You gave me chicken.”
She laughed.
“You really need new material.”
“Never.”
Later, while everyone danced, Dad sat beside me.
“You happy?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded.
“Me too.”
Sarah pulled him onto the dance floor.
Dad protested.
Nobody listened.
I watched my family.
Not perfect.
Not traditional.
Not untouched by damage.
But safe.
That was better.
Then someone sat beside me.
Ellen.
She handed me an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Something Ryan wrote.”
I stared.
“To who?”
“Amanda.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“We found it when we cleaned our attic.”
I hesitated.
Ellen continued.
“It mentions Lily. And something that made me think of you.”
I opened it.
The letter had been written shortly before Ryan died.
Most of it was private.
I skimmed.
Then one line stopped me.
If anything ever happens to me, I just want Lily surrounded by people who choose her every day.
I looked toward the dance floor.
Lily was laughing against Ben’s shoulder.
Dad was dancing badly with Sarah.
Robert was arguing with Marcus about music.
I folded the letter.
Ellen smiled.
“I think he got his wish.”
I looked around again.
“Yeah.”
May you like
Then I smiled.
“He really did.”
