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“That’s her home office.” Olive points up to the sound of her mother’s footsteps above our heads. I nod, unsure of what to say at this point.
“Is it true? You can tell me, honestly, if you truly didn’t want me or want my mother. I’m a big girl now and I can handle it.”
She says these words, but I can tell she is already incredibly crushed to even imagine that I would walk away from her.
I grab her hands with both of mine, and l look into eyes that mirror my own.
“I swear on everything that I am, I had no idea your mother was pregnant. Had I known, I would have run toward her, not away. I would have been with her. Lack of love wasn’t what caused me to walk away from your mother, to begin with. I misunderstood something when we were teens and I overreacted. But worst of all, I made decisions for the two of us that weren’t mine to make. That’s something I’m going to have to navigate through. I made a huge mess of something so beautiful in my life. And in the end, I missed seeing you grow up. And for that, I don’t think I will ever fully recover from it.”
Tears stream down her cheeks freely now, her gaze softening with the revelation that I truly didn’t mean for our lives to turn out in such a way. Soon enough, Becca is back downstairs holding an entire box that looks filled to the brim. She sits back down, pulling off the cardboard lid to reveal a ton of mementos.
She begins to pull things out and I sit back, wondering where my place is between these two women that hold my heart in their hands. Once Becs seems to find what she was looking for, she pulls it out, revealing an envelope that looks worn and old. She hands it to me. “Here it is!” She sounds excited, as if the contents don’t hold a piece of our past that ruined so much of our future. I take it from her, curious about what I’m going to find.
I turn it over to reveal Becca’s Nebraska address, along with a return address that looks familiar immediately. It’s my aunt’s address in Seattle, and the postmark location is also in the same city. Does Aunt Lynn know about Becca and the pregnancy she divulged? She may have met her a handful of times due to the holidays we were together while she was visiting Saddle Ridge. Aside from that, she has no real connection to the girl I love. I feel my heart begin to race as I pull the letter out from the envelope, careful not to damage it.
When I unfold it, I begin to read what Becca had explained from her memories. What is written is similar to Becca’s words, mostly because she probably pondered how I could be so hurtful. I can only imagine she memorized the hateful words in that letter, and she probably grew to believe what I said was true. I can’t even wish she had fought harder to find me because what I said would have ruined me, had I been the recipient of this correspondence.
It stings to read, even all these years later, and knowing it wasn’t me who wrote this on paper to the one person I would have done anything to see flourish in life. I feel Becca move behind me, reading along as well. What is written on this piece of paper still jabs at Becca’s heart, and I’m confirmed of this when I look behind me and she’s standing there, wiping a stray tear that has begun to fall.
I put the letter down, standing up and pulling Becs into my arms. I then bring her lips to mine, and I hope with my touch, she can feel my love through my affection. Once we part, I sit back down and continue reading the paper in my hands.
The letter is typed, and I can admit I wasn’t much of a typer back then. Computers were not what they are today, not used in every room of a house. They were not readily available, and I was not the best at typing at that age. I preferred handwritten notes, especially with Becca.
Aside from how this letter was constructed, the fact it came from Seattle is a huge red flag for me. But what I wish Becca had questioned more is that it’s addressed to “Rebecca,” when all I did was either call her Becca or Becs. I never spoke her full name. I can’t even say I would have proposed using her full name simply because she was always Becs to me;myBecs. I turn and look up at her.
“Did you ever find it weird, the fact this letter was typed, not written, and I addressed you as Rebecca instead of Becca or Becs?”
She begins to shake her head.
“At first, sure, I felt like it was a bit odd. But in all honesty, the way you left, it made me feel like all your actions were ones that were unknown to me. I felt like you had already deserted me in the worst way, so reading your letter just felt like another way to fully put me and our baby behind you.
“As cold as your words were, I disregarded how much they didn’t sound like you. Because you weren’t yourself from the moment you walked onto my porch that night of graduation. And I wanted to keep pushing, but at the same time, that letter made it clear I was not a priority to you, nor was our baby. Why would I want to force someone to be with me and become a father?”
She grabs a tissue and takes a seat by my side.
“I saw what great parents mine were to me. They savored their time with me. But they were also a team. They held so much love between one another that it was palpable for me, even as a child. I wanted to feel loved, but I also wanted our child to feel that love. So the way I truly dealt with that letter was telling myself I did right by you, even if the outcome wasn’t what I wanted. I had told you and you had responded. I had to respect what you wrote, even though it may not have sounded like what you would say to me, nor did I find the things you said kindhearted.
“I never believed you could harbor anger and hostility the way that letter came off. It was cold and very much out of character for you. But I had a child to think about. I had a future to move toward, and I’d be damned if I was going to let myself spiral when I had myself to focus on.”
She does not say this with malice in her tone. She is honestly saddened by what happened decades ago, while I am still trying to put these pieces together. I hope though, after all this time, she finally sees that I did not say these words and would never have left her behind. I see movement in my periphery, turning my attention to Olive looking through the contents of the box.
“Oh my gosh, Mom. You never showed me these. Is this the outfit the hospital put on me? Are these the hospital bracelets?” She looks up, smiling softly while going through the items in the box.
“Yes, you were so tiny. I felt like a beached whale, which is what every person says when they’re about to give birth. But I honestly thought I was having a Guinness Book of World Records of a child in size. I felt enormous.”
She chuckles, her gaze distant, as if going back to that memory. She walks over to stand by Olive to go through the items in the cardboard box with her. She shuffles a few things aside and finally grabs whatever she was looking for.
“Here, Shane, get comfortable. I saved everything back then. I felt like I had to chronicle everything Liv went through because I didn’t want to miss anything. I won’t pretend and say I was completely over our relationship. I was still hoping you would come around, and I wanted to keep all the little things so you had a chance to feel included in that moment and with all the milestones Liv and I had together.”
She puts a big book in front of me. It looks like a baby book of sorts, soft exterior, a soft pink color to the fabric that lines the cover. I graze my hand over it, hoping just the feel of it will pull me back in time so I could be there with my girls when everything began between them.
Unfortunately, that dream will continue to be just that. I can’t control yesterday, but I can definitely build my life for tomorrow. And that’s what I intend to do.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
REBECCA
Present Day
