Chapter 6 - The Empty Chair
I looked at the chair by the window.
For one disorienting second, I imagined my father sitting there, loosening his tie and asking why everybody was making such a mess of a good day.
“What letter?”
Mark reached inside his jacket.
“I brought mine. I thought we might read a line from it during the toast.”
My mother shook her head.
“This is cruel.”
“To whom?” he asked.
He handed me a folded envelope.
My name was written in my father’s uneven block letters.
I knew that handwriting from birthday cards and notes left on the refrigerator.
My knees nearly gave again.
Ethan pulled the chair toward me.
I sat and unfolded the paper.
Liv,
If you’re reading this, your mother has probably ordered enough flowers to bankrupt a small country.
A laugh escaped me before the tears came.
That was him.
Not the polished, serious version my mother quoted when she wanted something.
Him.
I don’t know what kind of wedding you’ll want. Big, small, courthouse, backyard. I hope the money makes it easier.
If you spend less, keep the rest. Start your life. Take a trip. Buy terrible furniture you’ll replace in five years.
Don’t spend it proving you’re happy.
Just be happy.
I pressed my fingers to the page.
There was more.
Marry somebody you can tell the truth to, especially when the truth makes you look foolish.
And wear something you can breathe in. Your mother wore a dress so tight she nearly fainted before the cake.
I looked up.
My mother was staring at the floor.
For a moment, I saw something beneath her anger.
Grief.
Real grief.
It didn’t erase what she had done.
But it made the room harder to hate.
The last lines blurred.
I wish I could walk beside you.
If I can’t, that doesn’t mean you have to borrow somebody else’s arm.
You know where you’re going.
Love you, kid.
Dad.
I covered my mouth.
Ethan’s hand rested on the back of my neck.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, I looked at my mother.
“You had this?”
Her voice was small.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“He wrote it before the last hospital stay.”
“Two years?”
“I was waiting for the right time.”
Mark turned away.
I held the letter against my chest.
“You let me think he wanted all this.”
“He wanted you happy.”
“Then why did you hide the part where he said I could choose?”
May you like
My mother looked at me.
And this time, she had no answer.
