Mary
I was going through the boxes the movers had put in the basement. I thought maybe I’d find some photos of the girls I could sit around. Most of the ones I found were of Piper and her mother. I set one aside. I’d ask Piper if she wanted to put it on her nightstand. It was in a pretty silver frame and would look lovely there.
I opened another box and found a bunch of books. A white envelope was sticking out of one. I picked up the book and pulled out the letter. It was sealed and addressed to Rachel. I turned it over in my hand. I wonder if it’s from her mother?
I found Rachel sitting on the bench watching Piper swing. I handed her the letter. “I was sorting through some of the boxes the movers packed and I found it sticking out of a book.”
Rachel took the letter and stared at her name, written in blue ink.
“It’s from your mother, isn’t it?”
Rachel nodded. “What could she have possibly written that would make a difference now?”
I patted Rachel’s back. “Maybe you should open it and see.”
Rachel handed the letter back to me. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
I held up the letter. “How about I put it in your nightstand? Maybe someday you’ll want to read it, and if you do, it’ll be there for you.”
“I can’t imagine ever wanting to read anything she wrote.”
I knew better than to push Rachel on the subject. She was as stubborn as they came. “I understand.” I stood to go back in the house.
“Mary?”
I turned around.
“Thanks for showing it to me.”
I smiled. “You know where it will be if you change your mind.”
I walked up the stairs and into Rachel’s room. I opened the nightstand drawer and tucked it inside.
I sat on her bed and glanced around her room. It was so hard for me to see Rachel so sick. I knew the chemo drained her. It hadn’t taken us long to get into a routine. I dropped Piper off at school and then took Rachel for chemo. Day in and day out. Nick came by to visit Rachel and take Piper bike riding. He’d taken off her training wheels and she’d only had one major crash that resulted in skinned knees and lots of Hello Kitty bandages. Claire came by on a regular basis, too. I was glad Rachel had them both.
I stopped going to bridge when Doris, one of the regulars, made a rude comment. “Those girls are like feral cats,” she said one day. “Feed them and they won’t go away.”
I wanted to slap her I was so mad. Instead I threw my cards down, walked out and never turned back. I didn’t need friends who referred to my girls as feral cats.