Page 80 of Switch Pitching

My fingers graze the edge of the laptop. “I don’t even know what to think. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Yeah, you’ve never really talked about your parents, other than when you told me what they did,” he says.

I let out a dry laugh and lean against the counter. “After all this time, I don’t think about them. Ever. Getting an email from my mom didn’t even cross my mind until it happened.”

James places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to open it?” he asks.

Pressing my fingers to my temples, I close my eyes and then open them again. “Sure. Let’s read it together and see what she has to say.”

Dear Ethan,

I know you might be surprised to hear from me, especially after so much time. I’m not sure there is a good way to start this, but I’ve realized that I can’t keep silent any longer, and I hope you’ll hear me out.

First, I want to apologize. I’m sorry for not standing up for you when you came out to me and Dad. I should have been there for you. Instead, I let your father dominate theconversation, and I failed you in a moment when you needed support. This is something I regret every single day.

I want to let you know that your father and I divorced not long after you went back to college. He refused to accept you, or take you back, and I could not stand by him any longer. I know that this does not erase my previous inaction, but I wish to make it known that I wanted to support you. I didn’t have the strength when it mattered, and I am truly remorseful.

I don’t expect forgiveness, especially after everything. I know it might be too late to make things right, But I want to try, if you are comfortable to do so. I miss you more than I can put into words, and I’m hoping that we can talk.

If you’re willing, I’d love to hear from you—my number hasn’t changed. I understand why you blocked us both, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t stick up for you sooner.

Please take your time, Ethan. I completely understand if you’re not ready or if you need space. Just know that I love you, and I’m hoping we can find a way to reconnect.

Love,

Mom

My eyes scan over the words again and again, but they don’t sink in. I inhale sharply and hold the breath in, not knowing how to feel. The apology is everything I never thought I’d hear, but now that it’s in front of me, it’s bizarre.

James watches me quietly. I know he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is sit there, my hands frozen on the counter.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think,” I mutter. “It’s been years, and now she’s saying all this?”

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “It’s a lot to take in, that’s for sure.”

My mind races back to that night again. It’s all so clear in my memory, and now I get whatever this email is. Part of me wants to believe her apology is genuine, but I can’t forget how easily she let it all happen.

Up until five minutes ago, I had managed to forget everything. Or at least keep it out of my mind.

“I don’t know if I can trust her,” I say. “She says she’s sorry, but she didn’t stop any of it when it mattered. She let Dad throw me out and stood there while everything went down.”

James reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to forgive her.”

He’s right, I don’t owe her anything, but in the back of my mind, I’m starting to think that I could get some closure by talking to her.

“Maybe I could tell her directly just how much she hurt me.”

Firming up his mouth, James looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “That makes sense,” he replies.

I close the laptop. “I’ll call her at some point later today, but I need to prepare.”

My thoughts spin. Calling her would mean stepping back into a part of my life I’ve given up on. For the first time in ages, I let myself think that maybe, just maybe, speaking to my parents might help.

Even if it’s only to get closure once and for all.

The only sound in the apartment is me tapping my fingers against the counter restlessly. James is still next to me, and I know he wants to help, but even he can’t tell me how to handle this.

“She’s a CPA with a tax practice,” I mutter, more to myself than to James. “It’s Friday, but it isn’t the end of a tax quarter right now, so she probably isn’t that busy.”

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