Her hand fell.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell them everything.”
Her eyes moved toward the house.
“Simone—”
“No more speeches about building your life alone. No more pretending I never existed. No more taking credit for sacrifices someone else made.”
“And after I tell them?”
“That decision will belong to me.”
I walked away before she could ask me to forgive her.
For illustrative purposes only
Part Seven: Dad’s Final Unsent Letter
When I returned to Dad’s apartment, the rooms seemed even quieter than before.
I placed the grocery bag on the kitchen table.
As it collapsed, I noticed a thin envelope trapped beneath one of its folds.
It was addressed to my mother.
There was no stamp.
Dad had never mailed it.
The date showed that he had written it shortly before his cancer diagnosis.
“Sally,
Simone has grown into a strong and compassionate woman.
She is kinder than either of us deserved.
I have decided to tell her everything. She may be furious with me, and she will have every right to be.
But she deserves the truth more than I deserve her forgiveness.”
