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Finally, Myles stood. “Plus, if you must know… it was what I read that kept me around in the beginning. I fell in love with you through your words first. I’d read something and then the next morning, I’d come around the bend and up toward the main house, and there you’d be. It was eerie, like somehow I already knew you. Then, later, when I realized you were an addict, it didn’t matter so much because I knew deep down who the person inside really was. What she was capable of. And I can’t wait to see her again. That’s why I want you to write and that is why I put it in the contract. So that you can see yourself as I see you.”
Jess swallowed. “You’re mistaken. You don’t actually love me.”
Myles cocked his head to the side, feigning ignorance. “Oh?”
“You love the person I once might’ve been. I think my son nailed me for who I am.”
Myles walked to the window and stared out. He remained quiet for a while until the right words came to mind. “We see what we want to see, Jessica.”
Two days later, Jess had an idea. Her son had communicated with her through his writing and she decided that maybe it was time that she returned the gesture. First, she set up an email account in Jonathan’s name. Second, she called Dean with the login and password information and instructed him to give it to him when he arrived home from school.
Then she wrote.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Let’s start from the beginning…
Dear Jonathan,
I’m not sure that writing you is the best course of action to take, given the importance and the gravity of the situation. But then again, I considered that you’re twelve now and maybe twelve-year-old boys don’t want to discuss these things face to face with their mother, and until you give me the go ahead, I will write to you about them instead. That said, I want you to know that from this day forward, I am here for anything and everything you want to talk about. On occasion, I may be distracted, but if you tell me ‘hey, mom, this is important,’ I promise you I will drop everything just to listen to what you’re saying.
I want to apologize for everything that I have put you through. I know you have h
ad to be a very tough, grown-up child for far longer than was fair. You have taken on so much responsibility, Jonathan, and I realize I am at fault for that. I have failed you in so many ways, but if you hear anything I say, I want you to hear this: I love you and even though I have done a really poor job of showing it recently, this has nothing to do with you or who you are. I am so proud of you. You have stepped up and cared for your sister and yourself in ways that you shouldn’t have had to do. And for this, I am so very sorry. I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I don’t mean that in all of the ways you probably think—being that you’re a twelve-year-old. There will still be times when you hate me because I am a mother and it is a part of my job to see that you are cared for and safe—even if we don’t agree that those things have the same meaning. But at least, you will hate me for a different reason than you hate me for now.
And I promise to do my very best to keep in mind that you are smart, and talented, and independent, and wise beyond your years.
Lastly, when can I meet this Sophie? She sounds like such a lovely girl. And please, Jonathan, tell her that she is not crazy. This is a conversation for another time but never again tell a woman she is crazy. It never ends well. :)
Yes, your father is gay. And he is figuring out his place in the world now that he is finally free to be who he really is. And even though this means that the two of us will no longer be married, I still love him very much, and we are still your parents, together or apart. He loves you very much. I hope you know this. The thing is, son, sometimes in being who we really are, we end up letting others down. So, while I know you are let down and probably confused about this, you must see the good in your father and know this isn’t a choice he made lightly, if it were one he made at all. You see, either we are truly our authentic selves or we end up hiding and cover it up with things to push the truth down. And sometimes, as in my case, those things aren’t good and sometimes, as in your Dad’s case, they are actually fine, but it’s the lies that make them bad, not the situation itself. That’s exactly why I am here and why I’ve let you down.
I am so sorry that I missed your first letter about your dad. You should not have had to find out this way as it was in no way appropriate for someone your age. I now see that this is why he didn’t want to bring you and your sister to the hospital after the accident. He must’ve been so ashamed. You did the right thing by coming to me, and I will be forever sorry that I let you down. But know this... your Dad is not a bad man. What he was doing (masturbation) as I’m sure you well know by this point, is not altogether a bad thing. And I am not making light of the situation by any means, but just know that you must always, always lock the door and consider the effect your actions have on another when it comes to most things in life, particularly pornography. And you wonder where you get your directness from? :)
I realize that maybe I could or should sugarcoat this given your age, but I’m no longer willing to sugarcoat the truth, Jonathan. I can see that you are too smart and too wise for that. It’s like telling you the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy still exists when we both know that ship has sailed. So from here out, I intend to face things head on, directly, and with the truth—both as your mother and in life as a whole.
I promise to be open and honest with you, and hope you’ll do the same with me.
Even if at first it’s just through our writing.
I love you so much,
Mom
Chapter Nineteen
Jessica awoke in the early morning hours of her ninth day being drug and alcohol-free. Restless, anxious, and unable to fall back to sleep, she picked up her computer and began surfing the internet. When she ran out of web pages to peruse, she checked her email and found this:
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Let’s start from the beginning…
Dear Mom,
Thank you for writing.
