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Finn
Aged Sixteen
Dear Mom…
I lied again today.
I told some pathetic fuck that I didn’t remember.
It was one of Dad’s friends, this time.
Tall guy, balding, chews too loud.
Ring any bell?
Now, I’m not saying I regret it.
Regretting it would mean being a good person.
Like you were.
And good people don’t lie.
Good people don’t say they “blacked out” to avoid talking about the worst day of their life. And good people sure as hell don’t kill their own mother.
Because I did.
I killed you.
Even if it wasn’t on purpose.
My therapist would have a stroke if she knew I was writing you a letter by choice. It’s been months since Dad stopped dragging my ass to therapy, yet here I am, still checking in with a ghost.
I can just picture you watching me lie to every nosy bastard who asks what happened that day. See the disappointment on your face as I pretend not to remember.
Truth is, I remember everything.
Of course I do.
I wouldn’t be so fucked-up if I didn’t remember the boat full of drunk college kids heading straight for us. I wouldn’t have PTSD if I didn’t remember their blasting music as the driver passed out—probably from drinking his way through every liquor store in North Carolina.
I would do anything not to remember. But my brain is a backstabbing asshole who knows every fucking detail from the weather to the last thing I said to you.
I can still see it so clearly.
It was particularly hot that day. Xavier and I were on the deck, talking shit like eight-year-olds do. I was so happy. I’d finally convinced you to get on Dad’s yacht after a year of nagging, and it was my birthday. Best day ever, right?
You’d just taken a seat on one of the benches behind us, trying to keep your seasickness under control while Dad and Brody bickered in the cockpit.
I had my eyes fixated on the college kids the whole time. I witnessed the boat pick up speed, the party people aboard painfully clueless as to their unconscious driver. I kept waiting for him to wake up and steer the boat to the side.
He never did.
I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, frozen, watching the boat charge toward us like a brainless idiot.
Would it have made a difference?
If I’d told you earlier?
