Robbie needs more support than I’ve been willing to admit.
Gage has a right to learn about his father because that kind of secret can’t stay hidden.
I need to forgive Pete and give him a real chance to make amends.
In a way, I was using our relationship as a Band-Aid to avoid those truths.
And this truth—I’m NOT okay.
The hardest part is that the person I am most angry with is not around anymore for me to yell at. I know it’s not rational for me to be upset with my dad for dying. But there it is. I feel so guilty for being mad at him, but he left me right when I was supposed to be starting MY life. Instead, I got stuck holding the bag and living HIS. Before Mary died, I was starting to process my grief, and I think if she would have lived, things might have gone down differently. But that’s not what happened, and right up until the moment you walked out of the studio, it never made sense to me to do anything other than simply plow ahead.
But once you were gone, I felt it—that anger burning inside of me. It’s always been there, and I’ve always been able to push it down. Except now I can’t.
Because it cost me you.
There is so much I shoved down. Did I ever tell you I was thinking about going to art school? That I wanted to travel? That I considered apprenticing under someone other than my dad? I didn’t even let myself think about all the plans I never got to make.
I don’t regret my choices. Raising my brothers has been the making of me in so many ways and I wouldn’t have wanted to be away from them after my dad died. But just because I made what I believe was the right decision doesn’t mean that all those darker thoughts don’t still live inside me.
What’s crazy is I could fool myself until you left. I thought I was okay, that I must be fine because I was surviving and because people thought I was doing so well. Everyone, from Archie to the boys’ teachers to neighbors to clients, has told me what a great job I’m doing, how amazing it is that I took on all these responsibilities. I couldn’t give myself any wiggle room to fail. I couldn’t let anyone see my bad days.
But they were there, Sadie. You called me out on them. I haven’t dealt with my grief, and it’s consumed so much of me and what I’m willing to show the world. I have been taking my anger and bitterness out on other people, especially Pete. And to my shame, you.
And the thing is, I can’t guarantee I’m going to fix it. Right now, even knowing what I do, I still don’t want to talk. I don’t want to ask for help. I want to put myself back together again, but I don’t have a clue where to start.
So you’re right—we can’t be together. I can’t take the risk of hurting you, taking my anger out on you again. I think we found each other at the exact right time. I needed someone to wake me up, to show me what was really going on inside of me. And God, did you ever do that, Sadie. I was never more creative or alive than when I was with you. You made me feel challenged and special, and so fucking wanted.
But it’s not enough, is it? It’s not enough that we love each other and bring out the good in each other if I can’t treat you the way you deserve. When you walked away from me last year, I didn’t understand why you did it. But now I do. You couldn’t love me the right way. I understand because I feel like that now.
Don’t wait for me.
I can’t make you any promises or honestly say that I’ll be able to deal with my issues. I think we did what we were supposed to do for each other—we opened each other’s eyes to the possibility of a different future. The difference is that you’re ready to face that future, and I’m so proud of you for that. But I’m not. And I can’t risk hurting you again, so please don’t ask me to.
This has to be the end, the real end. I want to imagine you out there living your dreams, knowing I helped you get there. Because I want to keep loving you. And letting you go is the best way I can do that. Right now, it’s the only way I can.
Renn
Early May 2016
Don’t wait forme.
I read the letter dozens of times over the next few weeks. Part of mewaswaiting for Renn to reach out again. Even though his words sounded definitive, my heart was not on board with the idea this was the end. It was hard to close the door. I checked my phone a lot, found reasons to open my email in the middle of the day.
But nothing ever came, and I eventually accepted that I needed to honor Renn’s words. By loving me, he had given me an incredible gift, and it was time to use that gift to full advantage and move on. It wasn’t easy, but he had made a sacrifice in letting me go. We both had.
I kept the memories of Renn like a treasure chest in my soul, and whenever the melancholy hit, I would pull one out and think about it. Renn singing Steely Dan’s “Dirty Work” while doing my tattoo. Renn taking me and the boys bowling and proceeding to roll a gutter ball every time Gage did, until finally asking for the bumpers. Renn learning the Seahawks roster so he’d have more to talk about with Zach. Renn waking me up in bed with a sexy smirk and a “good morning” in his Mater voice. There was pain there, too. But unlike the memories of Henri that had paralyzed me, my time with Renn had made me better.
I moved on because I could. To be sure, I wanted love in my life. I wanted Renn. But with that option off the table, I focused on other things I wanted, things that would make me happy. I was a thirty-six-year-old woman reveling in finally having my own aspirations. I missed Renn, but I was going to be okay without him. My memories were there. I had a beautiful, colorful reminder of our time together on the back of my thigh, one that I could run my finger over and smile at. And life still had a lot of happiness in store for me, a lot of surprises. For the first time since Boston, I felt sure of it. I was excited to find out what happened next.
CHAPTER
Twenty-Five
April 2018
“Doll, you needto push that bowl away from the edge of the table. Mr. Bingham is going to knock it off if you give him half a chance.”
I looked over at the evil-eyed tabby in question. He glowered at me with his old man cat face, and I shivered as my soul protected itself from his attempts to collect it. “I still can’t believe Teddy named that demon feline Mr. Bingham. Jane Austen would not approve.”
