“Wait, Katie, wait up!” I gasped out a breath but hurried to catch up. It was no use. “I’m tellin’ Mama and Daddy if you don’t stop right now.”
Katie’s brilliant smile, rivaled only by the mid-July sun; her blonde hair swirling around her thin face in the breeze. Floral-print fabric waving and dancing around her bare feet. Long, slender fingers reaching for my eight-year-old hand. She was a sister now that the wedding was over, beautiful and smart and wonderful.
“Well, hurry up then!” Katie urged.
“My legs are shorter’n yours, and you know it!”
But I bustled faster, even when twigs stabbed at the bottoms of my bare feet and rocks scraped my skin. We finally came to a stop at the edge of an expansive field; the green stretched farther than I could see and was dotted with black and white and brown and all three at once. Katie helped me clamber up onto the top of the fence, and they watched as the cowboy rode out from his barn. His trusty palomino never faltered as it trotted across the field toward the two girls.
“Think I’ll ever ride like him?” I asked as my gaze never left the steady gait of the horse with its mane flowing behind her head.
Katie grinned and leaned against the fence. “‘Course you will. I’ll teach ya, don’t worry. S’what sisters are for, right?”
“I’m glad you’re my sister.”
Katie heard my whisper; she grabbed onto my hand and held on tight. I waved with my free hand when Mister Wally galloped past. He dipped the brim of his hat in greeting, then he was feet away. I squeezed my sister’s hand, and we didn’t move even when the man and horse disappeared into a speck on the horizon.
“Dealla? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I sniffle and swipe a hand over my wet cheeks. Unable to speak, I only shake my head, and Holden pulls me into his arms. I haven’t thought about my childhood with Katie in so long, my rage having drowned out all the good memories we ever made. The memories are all I have, but I haven’t been able to move past how utterly angry, how hurt, I’ve been since Katie was nineteen.
“She never taught me to ride,” I whisper, and though he doesn’t understand—how can he?—Holden just holds me more tightly.
Later that night, long after Holden and Ashton have gone to bed, I stare down at the paper on the table in front of me. My own handwriting stares back. The letters are shaky, written in a hand that trembled with emotion, but they’re legible. Blowing out a breath, I reread my words.
Katie,
Sorry it’s taken so long to reply. I’ve just been trying to figure out what I want to say. I think I’ve finally found the words.
You’re right. You were literally the last person on Earth I’d ever want to hear from. I’m glad you’re able to admit your shortcomings as a sister, daughter, and a mother, but why couldn’t you figure it out BEFORE Ashton was affected? He deserved better than what you gave him. He deserved a mother who gave a damn about his wellbeing, one who was actually there for him. You never were, and he had to learn the pain of abandonment by the only person in the world who was supposed to never leave him. To never neglect or abuse or go without loving him.
You regretting what you did… It changes nothing. You’re just lucky he’s so little, he won’t remember what he’s gone through because of you. He won’t remember standing in his playpen for hours, screaming and crying for a mother who never came. He won’t remember all the times he had to come to my apartment because you were too fucked up to keep him. He won’t remember any of that.
But I will. And I’ll do my damnedest to do right by him.
All this aside, I’m glad you’re going to therapy. I only ever wanted you to get help. I never wanted you to have a criminal record or be in jail, but if that’s what’s helping you, then I guess I’m glad I called the cops on you. I’m sure you already know, but Katie, I’m the one who called child welfare services on you. And I’d do it again if I had to. Anything to make sure Ash isn’t in danger.
God, he’s such a beautiful child. I look at him, and I can’t help but wonder why you couldn’t be a mom. Be the person he could always rely on, turn to for everything. He’s smart and silly and stubborn and so damned loving. He’s amazing.
As much as I love him, though… I hate you for putting me in this position. So much. I’m not the one who got pregnant, I’m not the one who gave birth to him. I hate you for making me grow up and step into the shoes you were meant to wear. But I am so thankful you did. He may not be mine by blood, but he’s mine because of you.
I’ll keep raising him as I have been. I’ll be the one who stays up all night with him when he’s sick. I’ll hold him, comfort him, when he has his first heartbreak. I’ll teach him how to cook, clean, be a good man. I’ll be the one who helps him plan his wedding and raise his own children if that’s what he wants. Because I love him. Because he’s mine.
You are tonevertell him the truth. He doesn’t deserve to find out from you. I’ll tell him when I think he’s ready.
Thank you, Katie. Thank you for being so selfish. You’ve given me the most precious gift in the universe, and I will never ever forget he’s why I live.
And no matter how much you’ve fucked up, I do love you, Katydid. You’ll always be my sister.
Love, Dealla
Satisfied, I fold the paper into thirds, slide it into the envelope, and prepare it for sending in the morning. Then I carry myself to bed.
That One Word
Assoonastheomelette is done, I transfer it from pan to plate, cursing quietly when I burn my finger on the edge of the cast-iron skillet. I look back over my shoulder and narrow my eyes at Ashton who sits in his seat. He stares back, and my heart melts at the innocence on his face. I shake my hand slightly as I speak.
“Don’t repeat that, mister.”
