Chapter 6 - The Apology With A Hook In It
On December twenty-seventh, a white envelope appeared under our front doormat.
No stamp.
No return address.
Just Rachel written across the front.
Inside was a card from my mother.
I read it aloud to Evan.
He stared at me.
"That's impressive."
"The apology?"
"No. The part where she apologized and threatened your character in the same paragraph."
I laughed despite myself.
Then I started crying.
"Why can't she just say she hurt me?"
Evan sat beside me.
"Because then she'd have to admit you get to decide what hurts you."
That sentence stayed with me.
All afternoon, I kept thinking about the family rule I had never known was a rule: Mom decided the meaning of everything.
If she insulted you, she was joking.
If you stepped back, you were cruel.
"Your mother says you're keeping the baby away," she said.
"I'm taking space."
"Good."
I blinked. "Good?"
"That woman has needed someone to tell her no since 1987."
Then Grandma Ruth's voice softened.
"But, Rachel, you need to know this isn't new."
"What do you mean?"
"Your mother kept files on you when you were a teenager."
"Files?"
"School reports. Notes about your friends. Copies of letters you wrote. Things she thought proved you were making bad choices."
I stood slowly.
"How do you know?"
"Because she showed me."
"Why would she show you?"
Grandma Ruth sighed.
"Because when you were seventeen and wanted to spend a summer with your aunt in Chicago, your mother tried to convince us you were too unstable to go."
I gripped the phone.
I remembered that summer.
I remembered Mom holding me while I cried and saying, "Sometimes people change their minds."
My stomach turned.
"Grandma... what exactly did she put in that file?"
May you like
There was a long pause.
Then Ruth said, "You should ask your aunt why you really never came to Chicago."
