She’s on the run and she still had time to leave this behind.
Is it her will? An apology? The reason she blew her life up?
A somber sigh leaves my mouth. I know what this is. I can pretend it’s closure, but it will never be that.
Against my better judgment, I rip it open and stare at her handwriting. It’s flowy and big—written in blue ink.
Tomy Cash,
I wanted to do this on the phone, but you haven’t been answering my phone calls. I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t answer an unknown number either. I talked to Ingrid, but she wouldn’t let me talk to you. After everything I’ve done for her, the least she could have done was hand you the phone.
That’s not why I’m writing this. I have to go away. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I made them for you. You may not have always agreed with me, but I know what’s best for you, my son. Ingrid was never going to be the woman who made you better.
I know you’ll figure out what you want to do with your life, and you’ll move far away from this town—from this place we used to call home. I hope you carry some part of me with you.
My choices have made our relationship non-existent, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d give up my whole life to make sure you didn’t choose the wrong one.
If there’s ever a time I feel it’s safe to contact you, I’ll reach out. Please don’t change your cell phone number. And if you find it in your heart to answer an unknown caller, it just might be me.
Love,
Mom
I reread the letter, trying to figure out whether to shred it apart or ball it up and toss it into the trash can.
She can claim she did all of this for me, but I know the truth. She was overbearing and controlling. Guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.
Now, I just have to make a decision about where to move. Go to Baltimore and beg Johns Hopkins to let me in… or move with Wilder and Ingrid to New York.
I know I shouldn’t be torn, but I am.
What if I’ve been told my whole life I’m supposed to be a surgeon, but there’s something else out there that will make me happier?
Am I just rebelling in spite of my parents?
I run a hand through my hair. Life would be so much easier if I was more like Wilder. If I knew what I wanted, even if circumstances kept getting in the way.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I sigh in relief.
A distraction.
My eyes widen when I see the name on the screen.
Elowyn.
We’ve been texting for two weeks, but we haven’t spoken on the phone.
Do I answer? Do I let it go to voicemail? Do I tell Wilder?
I have to answer, right?
“Hello?” I say into the phone, my heart beating a million miles a second.
“Cash?” I hear.
“Yeah.”
“I, uh, didn’t know who else to call,” Elowyn begins. “I tried Wilder, but he doesn’t really answer all that often and then I told myself I can’t call Ingrid because that would be so awkward. And my dad… I don’t know where he is. He barely comes home. As far as friends go, well, you’re the only friend I have.”
