Page 135 of Lovebug
“Yeah. A long while actually. She needed some time to take care of herself and figure some things out so she could be a good mommy again.”
I glance over at Chloe and Wally skimming rocks and laughing together.
“Did she come back?” Holden asks.
It’s then that I remember the letter tucked in my pocket.
“She did, yeah.”
The little guy seems to start breathing easier at that.
“Hey, buddy,” I offer. “What do you say we just chill out in this tree a little longer and read quietly together before heading back up to our groups. That sound good?” I wrap my arm around him. He lets me.
“Sounds good.” He nods and leans his head against my shoulder as he returns to his book.
I reach into my pocket, pull out the letter, and silently read.
Dear Mabel—
I’ve started and restarted this letter about a dozen times. Each time, I come up with the words “I’m sorry” as a way to begin, and each time, those two words feel inefficient. Insufficient? Both, I suppose. People use the word “sorry” so often and for the tiniest offenses: their grocery cart takes up too much room in the aisle, their dog barks while out on a walk. And as women, we often say sorry when we have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.
When I was growing up, nearly every time I had a question, Abe said, “Look it up.” We had this huge bulky set of Encyclopedia Britannicas lining the shelf next to our dinner table, so that’s where I went day after day “looking up” whatever it was I was curious about. I used to think he wanted me to experience the joy of seeking out knowledge on my own. And maybe that was the case sometimes, but when you get to a certain age… you realize that more often than not, our parents don’t have the answers either. They’re still seeking too.
So I decided to look up the word “sorry.” “Feeling sorrow, sympathy, or regret.” I feel all those things right now. Sorrow that I missed so much of watching you grow up, sympathy that you now need to juggle all these big feelings, and regret that I couldn’t be forthcoming with you from the get-go. But regret for having had you? You, you, wonderful you? No. No way. Never.
The day I found out I was having you was the happiest, scariest day of my life. The day I had to step away from you was by far the saddest. But knowing Abe and Helen would be taking care of you eased it somewhat. I never wanted to hold the truth from you. But Abe and Helen thought it was better that way, and I wasn’t strong enough at the time to object. Being your “aunt” meant I could be in your life, so I took that opportunity and gave it everything I had. Being close to you those first nine years of your life meant the world to me.
I gave them my word that I would stick to what we - or rather they - had decided. But nine years later, I was so much stronger. I was having a really hard time keeping my promise. I’d met Chloe’s dad, we found out she was on her way, and we decided we wanted you to be with us. I made my case to Abe and Helen, but this frightened them tremendously, and they cut us out.
I’m sure it’s difficult to see it now, but they really were trying to take care of us both. Give me a chance to finish school, grow up, and make my way in the world. Give you a chance to have all the love and care you deserved from day one. Did they make a ton of mistakes along the way? Yes. Did I? No doubt. But do we all love you? Absolutely and forever.
It’s my greatest hope that you know that down to your bones.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered that I really love gardening (yes, I realize that makes me sound all sorts of lame). One of the first things you learn when trying to grow things is that roots are important. They’re amazing systems for grounding us and feeding us. But they can also be messy and destructive.. They can tear up the earth around us and choke our growth if we don’t learn their patterns and figure out how to partner with them. You’re so smart and strong, Mabel. Always have been. I have full faith that you will plant yourself where you need to be now, giving yourself the space and nourishment you need, and—whether that includes me or not—I can’t wait to watch you grow.
Love Always,
Tina
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“How was the dinner?” I feel his voice vibrate in his chest as I rest my head close to his heart.
“Oh right, we didn’t do much talking when I got back, did we?” I tease.
“No, ma’am, we did not.” He chuckles and kisses the top of my head.
I’m lying in Wally’s arms, back in our tent, staring up at the sky and waiting for the rescheduled fireworks from last Saturday’s rained out Fourth of July.
“It was…nice,” I respond, finding it kind of hard to choose a word to describe my evening.
“Nice?”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile.“Tina cooked a whole chicken. Chloe and I collaborated on a white cheddar mac-n-cheese, and Chloe’s dad, John, baked a chocolate cake that went soupy in the middle, so we all pretended it was a massive soufflé and attacked it with spoons. There were a few awkward moments here and there, but generally lots of laughs and good conversation.” I shrug. “It was nice. Oh, and Tina and I took some time to chat just the two of us where she let me ask any questions that I still have. The guy she was dating when she got pregnant with me isn’t really in her life anymore, but she knows how to get in touch with him if that’s something I want to do.”
“That’s great news,” he says as he strokes the strands of my hair. “Think you’re going to do that?”
I sigh and shrug. “We’ll see.”
