Page 154 of My Merry Mistake
I pull out my phone and find Raya’s number. I want to hear her voice. She’s the smartest person I know, and I need her opinion. I hit the button and hold the phone to my ear, waiting for the call to connect. I get nothing but silence.
I pull the phone down and look at it—no signal.
Normally I’d love that, getting unplugged, away from connectivity, but right now I feel like I need a connection. To her, specifically.
I turn the phone off, open the truck door, and try to toss it onto the seat. It hits the center console and flips down into the space between the console and the driver’s seat.
Gritting my teeth because ofcourseit doesn’t do what I want it to, I bend over and try to fish it out. With my arm crooked under the seat, two fingers pinching the phone, I see the corner of one of those stupid letters sticking out of the case on the floor of the passenger side.
It’s there because I threw it there.
Something new rises up. Something other than anger or betrayal. It feels a lot like slamming the truck door.
Closure.
It’s time to put a stop to all of this. To rip off the Band-Aid and deal with it—whatever it is and however it makes me feel.
I won’t forgive her. I won’t do that to Hunter. But I need to put it behind me once and for all.
I reach inside the bag and pull out the first letter Eileen sent me a few years ago. I stare at it. It’s folded in half and crumpled on the edges because I’ve almost opened it so many times.
I never had the courage.
But today I do.
I tear it open, rip out the plain sheet of white paper, and read.
Dear Finn,
It’s been almost seven years since the day all of our lives changed. Years of regretting the stupid decision I made that day. The decision to drive after I’d had too much to drink. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Maybe I thought I didn’t have that much. Or maybe I thought I could handle the short drive home. Whatever I thought, I know now it was wrong.
I don’t know why I’m writing to you. I’m sure you hate me, and I don’t blame you. I hate me too. It’s going to be a very long time before I forgive myself for what I’ve done. Actually, I’m not sure I ever will.
And I don’t expect you or anyone in your family to forgive me either.
But I do want to tell you how sorry I am. I want you to know that my whole life is different now.I’mdifferent now. And I’m going to dedicatethe rest of my life to trying to make amends for what I’ve done. To figure out how I can help other people.
And I promise I’ll never have a drink again.
I know that’s no consolation considering what you lost, but I wanted you to know anyway.
When I think of the pain I’ve caused you and your family, it makes me sick. I go back to that night every time I close my eyes, and I wish I could hand the keys to someone else. I don’t have any excuses, only apologies.
A whole world of apologies.
I’m so, so sorry.
I’ll say Hunter’s name out loud every day until the day I die as a way to always remember him.
Sincerely,
Eileen Tierney
I stare at the last sentence of Eileen’s letter.
My first thought ismaybe keep his name out of your mouth.
