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A week later, Mom had recovered enough from her surgery to begin her first chemotherapy treatment. Dr. Riddles warned me privately that the procedure was going to be extremely hard on her, and that she would need my help now more than ever. The treatments would happen twice a week for the next three months.
She would become ill, tired, weak, and would most likely lose her hair. She would be highly susceptible to every germ around. Her brain would become foggy, and it would be difficult for her to remember simple things. It was my job to convince her that it would all be worth it once she was cancer free. I knew that supporting her through it would be one of the most difficult things I’d ever done.
On top of that, I was still reeling from my own personal crises. I’d managed to avoid Sam, Bridget, Annie, and June so far, but I knew my lucky streak wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, I would have to deal with the situation; I wasn’t looking forward to that day. To make matters worse, Jonathan was also giving me grief, calling nearly every day, begging me to talk to him. I screened his calls, sending him directly to voice mail, but he was making an already heartbreaking situation even more so.
He’d sent obnoxiously large flower arrangements on two separate occasions, and the smell of them nauseated me. I responded to him via e-mail both times, politely thanking him and telling him to stop. Yesterday, I received a delivery of an outrageously expensive painting that I’d had my eye on for years. I shipped it directly back to him.
He really was pulling out all the stops. He just wouldn’t give up. Now he was refusing to sign the divorce papers, certain he could somehow convince me to change my mind. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t just resign himself to the fact we were over; that we had never been right for each other in the first place. More than anything, I just wanted him to go away, so I could move past that painful part of my life.
The only bright spot in my life was the Max and Maggie letters. I’d read all of them except the last three, which I’d smuggled into my bag this morning. Mom would be hooked up to her treatment for the next couple of hours, so I brought them along to keep me entertained in the waiting room.
As I unfolded the next letter, I realized it was different from the rest. It wasn’t from Max, but from Mom, and it looked like it was never sent. My stomach tightened with anticipation as I began to read.
My Darling Max,
I have news, life changing news. After you read this, our world will never be the same again. You see, once the words are spoken, they can never be taken back. Once you know, you can never un-know, and that knowledge will force you to make choices I don’t want you to have to make. I’m pregnant. Our lives will never again be carefree and filled with promise. We will be parents. Another human being will depend on us for its very existence. How can I ask you to give up your future? You have such a promising life ahead of you—a football scholarship! It would be so selfish of me to expect you to give that up for a family you never planned. So I won’t. I won’t ask that of you. I want you to be free to pursue your dreams, unburdened by me and a child. I love you more than life itself, Max, and I won’t be the reason you’re chained to this town. Good-bye, my love.
Yours Forever,
Maggie
I read and reread the letter several times as the words began to sink in. My mother had been pregnant. With me. The letter was still in the box with all the rest, so that meant she never sent it. Max never had the chance to read her words. My hands trembled as I pulled out the next letter. I hoped it would answer all the questions swirling around in my brain.
Maggie,
I don’t understand what’s happening. You won’t return my calls. You won’t answer my letters. I even came to your house to see you and you wouldn’t answer the door. I know you were home; I saw you through the window as I left. What did I do wrong, Maggie? You know I love you. I love you more than my own life. You’re my whole world. What about our plans? We’ll be graduating soon and then your parents can’t stop us from getting married. It’s what we’ve always talked about, and it’s so close. Don’t you love me, Maggie? Please tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it. I will love you forever.
Max
––––––––
I released the breath that I’d been holding as I read the letter. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to become clear in my mind, but I continued on to the very last letter, hoping for a happy ending even though I knew it wasn’t to be.
Maggie,
Your silence speaks volumes. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, so I can’t fix it. I don’t want to be a burden to you if your feelings for me have changed, so I will leave you alone. You obviously don’t love me anymore. Just know that I’ll always love you. That is one thing you cannot control.
Max
I couldn’t believe it. Mom never told Max the truth. She was pregnant with me, and rather than tell him, she broke things off without explanation. Max, the mysterious man who was my mother’s first love, was also my father. I let that thought percolate in my brain for a few moments.
I was beginning to have my suspicions about the mysterious Max. I’d always believed my father was a deadbeat who skipped town and abandoned Mom when he found out she was pregnant with me. Now I had to grapple with the possibility that maybe he never knew about me. My mother hadn’t sent the letter explaining the pregnancy. Instead, she’d broken up with him without a single word as to why. Max might have had no idea he was my father. I wondered, if he’d known, how different my life might have been.
The revelation brought about conflicting feelings in me. My first impulse was anger toward Mom for robbing me of my father and Max of his daughter. I let the anger bubble inside for a while; I felt it, and I didn’t push it away. Along with that anger came hurt. I couldn’t believe all the years I’d felt unwanted. Watching my friends with their fathers was like a knife in the heart. How I’d ached to know what it felt like to have one! My mother stole that away from me.
Then another thought began to emerge. I put myself in Mom’s shoes, and when I did, I understood that she’d made her decision out of genuine love for Max. She didn’t want to be the anchor that tied him to Woodridge. He had a football scholarship, a chance to make something of himself. She must have known he’d have given it all up for her, but she didn’t want him to. When I looked at it that way, it wasn’t selfish; it was selfless.
My mother did the hard part of raising me alone. She had no help; her parents packed up and moved to Hawaii, leaving their home and my mother behind. I wondered now if it was due to having a daughter who was pregnant out of wedlock. I knew that I wasn’t born until after Mom graduated from high school, but certainly people in town could tell she was pregnant. There must have been speculation about who my father was. Is that when she started to withdraw from society? From the bits and pieces I’d garnered about my grandparents, they were terribly strict and hard to please. Mom said they signed the house over to her and she never heard from them again. It was hard for me to imagine that they could completely abandon their daughter when she was pregnant, but at least they left her with a house, not out on the streets.
Mom had somehow put herself through nursing school while raising me. She never dated, and she had no social life. All she did was go to work and come home. No wonder she was bitter. It all made sense to me now.
I sat in the waiting room, wrestling with the emotions that the letters brought to the surface. Mom had never talked about my father, and I had never asked. I’d made a lot of assumptions about the kind of man he was based upon his absence, but I realized now that those conclusions may have been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t absent because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know. Maybe that’s why Mom never let me inside her heart. My very existence was a constant reminder of all that she’d given up. I let it all sink in, realizing there was so much more I needed to know.
I refolded the letters and placed them back in my bag. My relationship with Mom had changed so much since I’d come home, and for that I was thankful. The letters shed light on things I had no idea about, and they forced me to view her through different eyes. For all the answers I’d found in the letters, there were just as many questions still unanswered. I finally knew who my father was, even if it was only the name Max. I would bide my time, and when the moment was right, I would ask her about him. It might be hard on her, but it was time I knew the truth.
