I wasn’t sure at first how my dad got my address. It had been more than ten years since he left me and my mom. I hadn’t heard a word from him since then. He had told me when he left that he was moving to Montana, but he had never given me an address to write to him, and he never bothered writing to me or even calling me. I had grown numb to his abandonment. There were more important things to worry about.
I didn’t want to read his letter and feel compelled to forgive him for all the years he was absent. I didn’t want to read it and find out that he was poor now and was hoping that I was well-off enough to loan him some money. I didn’t want to open that envelope and find a tacky invitation to a wedding I wouldn’t attend in a million years. I didn’t want to find out that he had terminal cancer and that he was trying to make amends with me before he died. It made me angry that he thought he could come back into my life just by writing me a letter.
I left it unopened in my nightstand drawer for a few months. I thought about burning it or ripping it up and throwing it away without reading it, but I decided to hold onto it. Maybe one day I would be ready to read it.
I was living with Ben and Yvette for ten months when I learned how my dad must have found my address. Penny had found it the same way. She started calling Ben’s home phone and leaving harassing messages on his answering machine. She must have finally figured out that I blocked her number and that’s why I wasn’t returning any of her calls or texts. Desperate to reach me, she had looked me up in an online database that listed Ben’s address as my residence, along with Ben’s home phone number.
I paid every database I could find to remove my information, and then I deactivated my Facebook account too. I didn’t want to take the chance that she might find me on there even after I blocked her. Ben was able to block her number, but soon after, she began sending vulgar letters and postcards to his address. Yvette told me to write ‘refused’ on all the letters that came in, and eventually they stopped. I could only hope that she would look me up again and, seeing that my name was no longer listed at that address, she would assume that I had moved.
I had already felt like I was wearing out my welcome before Penny started harassing us. Ben and Yvette never complained about me being there, and they never asked me to leave. I paid rent for my room, and I babysat the kids a couple times a month so that they could have a date night. Even so, I knew that they probably wanted their place back to normal. I decided to look for an apartment, and I started to pack up my room so that I would be ready to go when the time came.
When I opened my nightstand drawer, I remembered the letter I hid in there several months ago. I didn’t feel as heated as I had when I first received it. I picked it up and stared at it for a moment. For the first time since I received the letter, I was curious about what was so important that after all these years, he finally wrote to me. I slid my finger under the flap and opened the envelope.
Dear Luca,
I know that no words will ever be enough for you to forgive me for walking out on you when you were a kid. In many ways, I was still just a kid myself, but I know that that’s no excuse. There were things that happened between me and your mother that you couldn’t have understood at that time. I don’t know if she ever told you what happened, but if she did, she probably didn’t tell you the whole story. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
If I could change things, I would have fought harder to take you with me when I left. The only reason I didn’t was because I knew that she was a good mom, even if she wasn’t a good wife. You probably don’t want to hear this about her. I know that it’s wrong to say bad things about people who have passed away, so I will leave it at that. She was lucky to have you there to take care of her when she got sick.
I can’t go back in time and fix things. I wasn’t there for you, and I regret it every day. I hope that one day we can work it out and be a part of each other’s lives again, but I’ll understand if it’s too late.
I’ve sent a lot of letters to you over the years. I don’t know if that makes any difference, but selfishly I hope that it does. It’s been difficult to track you down with all the moves you’ve made. I can only hope that this letter will make it to you. I have a lot more that I want to tell you, but there is only so much I can say in a letter when I’m afraid it will be kicked back like all the others.
If this letter should make it to you, I hope you will give me another chance at being your dad.
Much love,
Joel Pichler
ChapterTwenty-Five
THE INTRODUCTION OF MR. PICKLES
Naomi
Ireach the bottom of the stairs at the same time the elevator doors open and Caterpillar Kid and her mom step out. I guess I should start calling her Caitlin now that I know her real name. Caitlin is holding a jar of pickles, and her mom has a caterpillar coloring book clutched against her chest. I slow down to let them cross my path on their way to the security desk where Joel is sitting. The man has to make killer overtime with all the hours he sits at that desk.
“Pickles for Mr. Pickles!” Caitlin announces as she slides the jar onto his desk.
I look at them as I walk past them toward the mailboxes. When I hear her nickname for Joel, my mind wanders back to my trip to Georgia. I remember Maxwell’s nickname for Luca, and how he had said that his ex-fiancée wanted to be Penny Pickles.
The letter I left for Luca is gone, but there isn’t a new one in my mailbox. I look out the window to see if Anne is outside yet, but she’s not. I can see Caitlin and her mom and Joel out of the corner of my eye. I try not to make it obvious that I’m listening to them.
“You’re the best,” Joel says to Caitlin as he accepts the jar of pickles.
“No, you’re the best,” Caitlin’s mom says. She sounds a little out of breath. The kid must wear her out. “I’ll be down in an hour. Thank you so much for watching her.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Joel says. He pops the lid open and pulls out a pickle. Caitlin watches him with wide eyes, and when he takes a big crunchy bite, she giggles.
The mom hands the coloring book to Caitlin, then heads back into the elevator. Caitlin runs to the front door, while Joel calls after her: “Stay next to the window where I can see you!”
Once we’re the only two people in the lobby, I approach Joel. He finishes the pickle he’s eating, then closes the jar and smiles up at me.
“Is that your payment for babysitting her?” I gesture toward the jar.
His smile widens. “It would seem so.”
I force a laugh that I hope sounds natural. “Why pickles?”
