Chapter 22
I stayed all night in the waiting room, exactly like I said I would.
This morning, with her grandmother’s CT scan clear, she was discharged and I drove them back to Singing River.
Jo introduced me as her friend and her grandmother didn’t question it.
Throughout the drive, Jo and her Mawmaw chatted the entire time, Jo playing along with a very confusing conversation.
Her grandmother referred to her as Evelyn, while Jo called her grandmother Martha.
Each time I chanced a glance her way, her eyes were laced with pain, but she put on a smile for their conversation.
The only moment of lucidity for her grandmother happened right as we guided her to the chair by the window in her room. She looked up at me with the oddest expression, almost like she knew me, recognized me, though we’ve never met.
The minute Josie’s grandmother was safely in her room, I handed Josie her car keys and made the walk back to my apartment.
I considered calling Austin for a ride, but I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.
The biting cold burned my cheeks, but I kept up my pace, on a mission to get back to those letters.
I get that she has trust issues, but is there something more that I’m missing?
The shoebox was all I could think about the whole walk and as soon as I unlocked the door my eyes zeroed in on where it sat on the coffee table. Each day here I’ve read a letter or two, taking them slow to savor her words.
I begin where I left off, scanning several quickly, looking for answers. When I get to the last few in the box, I read the words on the pages and things begin to make sense.
Tyler,
I’m pregnant with my second child. It’s a boy.
Everything about this pregnancy is different, from my cravings to my hormones.
I’ve been married a year now, and things are fine.
Not always great, but good enough. Chad works a lot, which means Abby and I are alone a lot.
I see so much of you in her now. She’s more serious than other kids her age.
She’s also the most helpful little girl I’ve ever met, offering to fix me a sandwich when my back hurts, or rub my feet when she notices how swollen they’re getting.
She also looks just like you. Chestnut hair and eyes twins to yours. I so wish you could meet her.
Josie
Tyler,
My son, Jay, is now two months old. He looks like me, with curly blond hair.
He’s a much easier baby than Abby was, which should mean life is pretty great, right?
But all I do is cry. Someone can compliment my shoes, and I cry.
Yesterday, I was picking Jay up from my grandparents’ house after work and when Mawmaw told me he was a good eater, I cried.
But I also cry because while, yes, I have a husband, a provider, I feel so alone.
And the worst part of all? On my very bad days, I wonder if I settled.
Jay is the only positive thing to come from my marriage.
Chad doesn’t understand my emotions, even having the nerve to roll his eyes at me a few times, telling me I’m being dramatic.
And can I tell you a secret? Most days, I don’t even think I love Chad anymore.
I had my first appointment with a therapist last week and she said I have postpartum depression and started me on an anti-depressant.
But there’s a lingering thought in the back of my mind that some of these thoughts aren’t due to depression, instead, the depression has given me courage to think them.
I don’t know. I truly hope the universe is treating you better than it’s treating me.
Josie
The next letter I find is ripped in half, then taped back together, and looks like it was crumpled and then flattened back out.