Page 64 of Grumpy

After a bit of rummaging, Maddie pulled out a stack of folded up pieces of paper. Some were in opened envelopes and some were not. Grumpy frowned when he saw two were addressed to him at his mother’s address in Maine. Both had Return to Sender stamped on them. Others were either bi- or tri-folded on white printer paper.

“I didn’t realize what it was I was looking at, at first,” Maddie explained. “They were all in a drawer under her jewelry box. Jammed in there, likely to hide from Rupert.” She thumbed through them until she found a specific one and handed it over to Grumpy.

Kelly started to let go of his hand, but he pulled her closer, angling the letter so they both could read it at the same time.

My dearest Maddie,

You’re eighteen. Wow. Where has the time gone? I know I am not your favorite person, and I fear that now you’re legally an adult, you will go searching for your favorite person. You always had such faith in him, never believing me. Even after I told you I had proof, you still did not believe me. To be honest, now that I’ve had time to reflect, I don’t know what I believe anymore either. Things happened so fast, and I was so angry. Too much time and hate has passed for me to fix anything, but maybe you could.

I never doubted his love for you. In fact, it was the one thing I was too certain of. I was in so much pain back then that I committed the worst sin a mother could: I used you against him. I treated you like a pawn, knowing that keeping you from him would hurt him more than our failed marriage. Looking back, I think perhaps I was always jealous of the two of you. He loved you so much, and there were days when I wondered if he loved you more than me.

And now I’m sitting here at my computer, writing a letter to you because you won’t even see me on your eighteenth birthday. I’ve failed you. I am not worthy of being your mother. Whatever happened in the past, whether he did those horrible things or not, I don’t doubt he was worthy of being your father.

I’m sorry I took that from you.

Happy Birthday, baby girl. Maybe by your next milestone we’ll have found our way back to each other.

Love, Mom

Grumpy read and re-read the letter several times before lowering it back down to the table. “You tried to find me when you were eighteen?”

Maddie, though, shook her head. “She never sent them. Any of them. To me, at least. The only ones I could find that had been sent were these.” She pulled out the two envelopes addressed to Jesse Bell in Maine and handed them over to him next.

Grumpy handed one to Kelly and pulled the other out to read himself.

Jesse,

I should have guessed the money came from you. Of course it did. You were more her father than that rat bastard sperm donor ever was. I actually thought he’d finally grown a pair and started paying what he owed.

Maybe it’s too little too late, but thank you. Our baby graduated high school today. Sixth in her class and with a full scholarship to UT. She wants to be a lawyer. You’ve always had so much faith in her.

T.

Inside the envelope was a professional graduation portrait of an eighteen-year-old Maddie smiling in her blue cap and gown. Grumpy ran his thumb over the matted picture, his heart bleeding for all the milestones he’d missed.

Looking over, he saw Kelly was still reading her letter. He indicated the picture in his hand to Maddie. “Can I keep this?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. She meant it to be yours.” While Grumpy had been reading the first letter, Burt had dropped off the large plate of fries and Jackson’s food. He’d also refilled their drinks.

Kelly finished her letter and looked over at the picture. “Oh, Maddie. You look beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Hard to believe that was only four years ago.”

Kelly and Grumpy swapped letters, though Grumpy kept hold of the graduation picture. It was going into his wallet with pride.

Jesse,

Since my last letter didn’t reach you, I have no hope that this one will either. But I have to try. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I don’t know what to believe. I know what those pictures showed, what your mom said, but I also know you. Or knew you. I thought I did, anyway. I know the man who loved me would never hurt me that way. You would never hurt Madison that way.

I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure why I am writing this. Your number’s been disconnected and your mom’s address is the only means of contacting you that I have. As frustrating as it is, it’s comforting to know you still hate social media as much as you always have. Maybe that’s a sign you haven’t changed too much.

I’ve ruined everything, Jesse. Madison won’t even talk to me now and I’m stuck in a loveless marriage out of pride and spite. I’m so lost. Our baby is twenty years old now. An adult. There’s so much I have to tell her, but I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if she’ll believe me.

If this letter does reach you, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me even a little bit, I beg you to come back to Texas. I’m still in the same house. I just want to talk. At least, I think I do. I need to see you, Jesse. I need to look at you and see the truth with my own eyes this time, not the tales others feed me.

I hope I hear from you soon.

Tanya