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I’m not sure where Payton is.
Maybe she’s still working? Earlier today, she said she was going to Heather’s.
She could still be there.
I pick up my cell and see I missed a call from her. I try her back, but the phone goes to voicemail, so I call Brandon.
“Where’s Payton?”
“She went to her friend’s.”
“Did anyone follow her?”
“No.”
I had said they didn’t have to anymore. Once I knew it wasn’t Paul, I decided to respect her wishes.
Now I wish I didn’t.
Walking toward my office, I check all the rooms I pass, but she’s not in any of them.
Maybe she’s at Cresthill?
I call Margret.
“Hi, Trent,” she answers.
“Hey, Margret. Any chance Payton is there today?”
“No, I’m sorry. She doesn’t normally volunteer on Fridays.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like no, it’s not.
“Did you upset the poor girl?” Margret takes Payton’s side in an instant, but I don’t mind. Payton is lovable like that. She has that effect on people. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
In the background, I hear my mother’s voice say, “Put him on speaker.”
Jeez. Now what?
“Trent Aldridge.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“What did you do to Payton?”
“What? Nothing.” I groan over the line.
“Then why does it sound like something is wrong.”
“She’s just not here. It’s nothing.”
“Or maybe she left. You were an ass when you first moved her into your house. Anyone with eyes can tell she loves you.”
“Mom. I appreciate the dating advice, but that’s not why I’m calling. I did nothing but care for her. I’m calling because I wanted to check to see if she was there.”
I hang up quickly and try Payton’s line once more. But again, she doesn’t answer.
Not speaking to her makes me realize how I feel.
There is no right moment to tell someone you love them because every moment is right. Love is something you grasp when it’s there. People don’t realize it’s a blessing. That if it’s taken for granted, it might not be there to appreciate later. Seize every moment. Tell people you love them when you feel it. Life is too short for anything else.
Payton has changed me. I see it now.
Opening my desk, I see it.
The letter.
The letter I received months ago and never read. I had thrown it into my drawer, hoping to never see it again.
When I was first handed the envelope, I knew there was no way I would ever read it.
For so long, I have hated my father. There was just no point in reading anything he had to say to me.
But now, after letting Payton in, after getting to know her, something has changed inside me.
I pick up the envelope.
The familiar handwriting stares back at me.
With a deep breath, I pull it open.
I need to know what he said.
Inside is the kind of lined paper a kid uses at school to draft an essay. I imagine my father in the prison library with a pen and paper, looking down at the lines and thinking about what he was going to write.
The ink looks to be thicker over the T . . . As if he placed the pen down and couldn’t find the words to continue.
Or maybe it was the strength.
Could that be it?
Was he searching for the strength to contact me?
I shake my head.
There’s no use speculating. I have never understood my father. And now, I never will. Instead, I read it.
* * *
Trent,
You probably won’t open this. I don’t blame you. I don’t deserve your attention. I don’t deserve anything from you.
Another family visitation week passed today. I was alone, watching from the corner of the rec room because I couldn’t bring myself to miss it. Just in case you came. In case Ivy did. In case your mom did.
I’m a sick bastard for holding on to hope I haven’t earned.
I sat there, just watching. Seeing everything I missed out on and knowing I damn well deserve the misery. I was getting ready to leave after it got to be too much. Had one foot past my table in the corner when a rubber ball rolled forward and hit my shin.
A kid came up to me, hand out. I gave him his toy back. He asked me why I was alone. For the first time, I told the truth.
It’s my fault I’m alone.
It’s my fault I have no one.
It’s my fault I hurt my family.
I am sorry for everything I did to you and your sister. You will never understand the pain I feel knowing I ripped apart my own family.
All I have is time.
Time to think.
Time to regret.
I realize now, I was every bit the monster you said I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I could take the blinders off and realize what I was doing, how warped my view was.
