Chapter 163
Tilda
Quackers waddles beside me as I walk down the driveway.
Yesterday, on my way home from the donation center, I didn’t have it in me to stop at the mailbox.
I didn’t have it in me to do anything.
Didn’t even turn the TV on. I just lay on the couch. In the silence. Wishing life didn’t have to be like this.
Wishing I didn’t want to call Ethan.
Wishing it didn’t hurt so much that he hadn’t called.
I kick at a rock and watch it bounce down the driveway.
Quackers flaps her wings, flying ahead a few feet, chasing it.
“You show that rock who’s boss.”
She lets out one of her loud quacks, and something that sounds like a laugh cracks out of my chest.
She quacks again, and I toss her a pea from the baggie in my pocket.
“You’re happy, right? Living life on your own. Doing whatever you want?”
Quackers snaps her beak, and I toss her another pea.
We walk the rest of the way in companionable female silence, listening to the breeze.
I don’t really get mail other than junk mail. But I get enough junk that I need to empty my box before too many days go by.
I toss three peas onto the ground for Quackers, then put the baggie back in my pocket so I can use both hands to remove the small stack of mail.
Tucking it in the crook of my left arm, I close the mailbox.
“Show me that one-eighty.”
Quackers picks up the last pea, then flaps her wings as she turns around and starts waddling back up the driveway.
A smile that only an animal can cause tugs on my lips. “Such a smart girl.”
Quackers flaps her wings again.
I try to keep the happiness she brings me. But happiness doesn’t seem to stick to me anymore.
“Stop,” I whisper to myself.
Except I can’t stop feeling awful.
Over the last few months, Ethan went from Stranger, to the person I wanted to be with most of all, back to Stranger.
And I think it’s worse. Having the good memories.
Because it’s not the first time someone has used me. But the other times… Those were from my family. And they’ve never been kind to me. Not the way Ethan… was.
All I’ve known from them was disappointment and pain.
But Ethan…
Ethan made me feel like I mattered.
He made me feel wanted.
Valued.
Ethan made me feel loved.
I hug the mail to my chest, trying to ease the ache in my heart.
I’d never felt like that before. And the sadness that coats me makes me fear I’ll never feel that way again.
I pause my steps. Close my eyes. And breathe.
I will be okay.
The sun is warm on my face. And I tip my head back to soak it in.
I’m going to be okay.
I exhale, then open my eyes.
“I’ll be okay.”
Quackers looks up at me as I look down at her. Then we start walking again.
As we round the turn in the driveway, I start to flip through the stack of mail.
Flyer for a roof estimate. Offer for a credit card. Letter from Uncle Jack.
I stop.
Frozen in place.
Letter from Uncle Jack.
I grip the corner of the envelope and pull it free.
It’s a plain white envelope. Like the others he sent me. But this one went through the mail.
The writing is all done in his neat handwriting.
My name and this address are there.
The name on the return address label is his.
But it’s not for this house. The return address is from another city in Colorado.
“What…”
I shift my thumb and look at the date stamped onto the envelope.
This was put in the mail just a few days ago.
Someone put this in the mail just a few days ago.
Part of me doesn’t want to read it. Because I’m afraid of what it might say. What demand he might make next.
But I can’t not open it.
I glance up the driveway to the house.
Not wanting to wait, I tuck the other mail under my arm, and I rip the envelope open.
Then, slowly, I unfold the paper from inside.
My lovely Matty,
This is my last letter to you.
I hope everything has worked out exactly as I planned.
You and Ethan really are perfect for each other. And it might take you both a moment to see that, but three months is enough time.
After three months, you’ll know.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
The laughs. The meals together. The hand holding.
Sometimes it’s the big things.
The moments that feel like they might’ve saved your life.
Usually, it’s everything.
The big and the little. The explosive and the slow.
Love can be all of that. And so much more.
So, my sweet Matty, if you love him, stay married to him.
You can thank me in the afterlife.
Uncle Jack
My vision blurs as tears swim across my lashes.
I don’t want to love Ethan.
I don’t.
But I can’t make myself stop. No matter how hard I try.
The moments that feel like they might’ve saved your life.
My tears spill over as I think about those moments.
Landing the plane. Scaring off the mountain lion. Swinging an axe at my cousin.
Hugging me on the deck. Kissing my hair. Bandaging my feet.
Ethan saved my life so many times.
My lungs hitch as I inhale.
It’s so hard to look back at it all and believe his motivation was money.
And maybe it wasn’t only money.
Ethan was upset when I handed him the letter. I don’t think he was faking the pain in his eyes.
And knowing that he might be hurting too somehow makes it worse.
Because if we’re both sad… That just feels so pointless.
Just like this letter is pointless.
It’s not me who has to love Ethan. It’s Ethan who has to love me.
I refold the paper and put it back in the stack with the rest of the mail.
When we reach the house, the duck goes straight to her pond, cooling herself off in the water. And I go inside.
I set the mail on the counter and reach for my phone, wanting music for my shower.
But then I pause.
Because I have a message.
I lift my phone and open my texts.
Ethan: It was never about the money. And if you give me time, I’ll prove it to you.
The tears that just won’t stop drip down my cheeks.
He’s waited two weeks to message me.
Waited until the day after he got his money.
Ethan: Please give me time.
My fingers tremble.
He’s sending these texts now.
Ethan’s on the other end of this phone right now.
But I don’t know what to say to him.
So I don’t reply.