Chapter 2
The envelope arrived on a Tuesday,
and I recognized the handwriting immediately.
It was my mother's cursive,
and it was addressed to my house.
I stood by the mailbox,
and I felt my heart race.
I had not spoken to her in a year,
and I did not want to speak to her now.
The return address was missing,
but the loop of the letters was unmistakable.
I walked into the kitchen,
and I placed the letter on the counter.
Rosie was upstairs playing,
and the house was peaceful.
I stared at the white envelope,
and I considered throwing it away.
I did not owe her my attention,
and I did not owe her my time.
But a small part of me wondered,
and that part made me grab a knife.
I sliced the paper open,
and I pulled out a single sheet.
The letter was not an apology,
and it was not a plea for forgiveness.
It was a wedding invitation,
and it was for my cousin.
My mother had included a sticky note,
and she had written three words on it.
Family is forever,
and she had underlined forever twice.
I read the words again,
and I felt a cold anger.
Family is not forever,
and blood does not guarantee access.
She was trying to use a wedding,
and she was trying to force a reunion.
She wanted me to show up,
and she wanted to pretend everything was normal.
She wanted me to bring Rosie,
and she wanted to take pictures.
She wanted the illusion of peace,
but she did not want to do the work.
I took the invitation,
and I walked to the trash can.
I dropped it in,
and I did not look back.
I did not RSVP,
and I did not send a gift.
I refused to play the game,
and I refused to be a prop.
Later that evening,
my phone rang from an unknown number.
I let it go to voicemail,
and I listened to it later.
It was my aunt,
and she was asking if I got the invitation.
She said my mother was heartbroken,
and she said I was being stubborn.
She said it had been long enough,
and she said it was time to move on.
I deleted the voicemail,
and I blocked the number.
I did not owe my aunt an explanation,
and I did not need her opinion.
They were all part of the same system,
and they all protected the same secrets.
I went to check on Rosie,
and she was sleeping soundly.
Her breathing was soft,
and her face was relaxed.
I pulled the blanket up,
and I kissed her forehead.
This was my family,
and this was my forever.
I did not need a crowded reception hall,
and I did not need forced smiles.
I needed safety,
and I needed truth.
I walked back downstairs,
and I turned off the lights.
The house was completely dark,
but I was not afraid.
I had locked the door,
and the right people were inside.
The past could send all the letters it wanted,
and the past could leave all the voicemails.
But the past could not come in,
and the past could not hurt us anymore.
May you like
We were completely untouchable,
and we were completely free.
