Dear Ruth,
Finally! I hope you didn’t give up on me. Please forgive me for my neglect. I received your postcards saying you were worried and imploring me to tell you what was going on. I am so grateful for your concern. Your guess that something was troubling me was correct.
Let me begin by reassuring you that now all is well. However, you were definitely right to guess that something was going on. In fact many things were, and whenever I tried to write, I didn’t know where to start. But now that I am out the other side, I can fill in at least the broad outlines.
To begin with, I think I might have mentioned that Iris went through a rough patch a while back. She is doing better now, but I don’t mind telling you I was worried. Then, after she began to recover, she and Jimmy seriously considered moving to the city. They even put in an offer on a condo. I might have written you they were thinking about it. As much as I would have missed her, I understood the reasoning. It was an effort to turn over a new leaf in new surroundings, to make new friends with people who were not parents of kids Bethany’s age, etc., etc.
But it was very hard on me, and I had to make an effort to not feel abandoned, as childish and selfish as that sounds.
Now I am (selfishly?) happy to report that in the end they decided against it. They opted instead to stay and became foster parents. She has so much to give, and they have the means to create a nice home and plenty of love and patience and support to offer. At the moment they have a pair of ten-year-old twin boys living with them. It is a challenge, but they are really committed to doing it, and so far it is going well. Do you remember Danny and Adam—Charlie’s boys? They’ve been welcoming to the twins, and it seems like some tentative friendships are developing. They are all playing soccer together, and every other Saturday, Charlie and Pam pick me up for breakfast with the boys, and then we go watch their games. Everything about it makes me very proud.
Speaking of real estate, another thing that was going on was selling my old condo. We had the place repainted, got the kitchen updated, and redid the baths. Charlie and Iris organized the work. They did a good job, so it wasn’t on the market very long, and we got a decent price for it.
I continue to go to the book club I told you about, and am becoming closer friends with some of the other members. We’ve convinced the Ridgewood folks to start a movie club, and at least once a month we go to the local multiplex for a matinee. Oh—do you remember me writing about the young aides I’d become friendly with? One of them just got her green card and is now reunited with her son. I am happy for her—she’s had quite a journey. They both occasionally bring their sons by to visit, and we have cookies.
Okay. Now, comes the hardest part. The real reason that I have taken so long to write.
Ruth, something occurred in my life that knocked me off balance … and I reacted in a way that I still can hardly believe. I should have known better, and I have been turning over and over in my mind how to tell you. How to begin, how to explain? I have decided to keep it simple. So here goes:
It all began with a horrible coincidence, that someone who I knew had done something awful also was living here at Ridgewood. When I realized who this person was and what he’d done … well. Some very terrible notions took hold in my mind. If I told you, you would not believe me, and to be honest I can scarcely fathom it myself.
In any case, God, or good fortune, protected me from my own poor judgment, and my actions had no ill effect. However, I didn’t realize that for a while. And during those weeks, I went through hell. I could hardly eat, I couldn’t write or talk to anyone. I couldn’t even hear Cal’s voice. I ended up going to the chapel often, trying to find peace, but there was none. But—thankfully—I discovered that I wasn’t very competent at doing bad, and my misdeed bore no poison fruit. Thank goodness. Before you say anything, of course I realize that being ineffective doesn’t absolve me from guilt. I had to spend significant time and energy and worry and ingenuity cleaning up various messes I’d made.
Like I said, things are now returning to normal.
Ruth, I know the above is vague, and I worry that in your imagination it might become even worse than it was. I hate that, because I want you to think well of me. I’m also worried that you might get the impression that my unwillingness to describe it more fully means that I am not truly sorry. But believe me when I say that I will live the rest of my days in huge gratitude that I escaped the consequences of my own worst impulses. Now, every day I try to reconnect with my best self. I also promise to avoid getting on my high horse (which, as you have often pointed out, I have a tendency to do), knowing just how easy it is to stumble. I promise.
Maybe someday, when it is further behind me and I am not so mortified at myself, I can tell you more. But this is the best I can manage at the moment. I hope you will forgive the mysteriousness, and also the delays in getting this to you.
Write back! I promise I won’t take so long to reply. From now on, I expect life to be blessedly boring.
With much love,
Frannie