can leave believing I did my best. That’s a lot. The only other thing I have is the truth, as best I know it, about my early life and what I learned about your father.
I ran away from the home when I was fifteen. I was raised in an asylum that was probably for orphans, but seemed like it was at least half lunatics as well. Some kids raved and hollered, some just sat in the corner and stared, harmless enough, most of them. But no matter how bad they were, they were always worse—mute and a little dead behind the eyes—after they received the treatment. That was what decided me; when I found myself hearing whispers when there was no one there, I decided I could live with voices better than electroshock therapy, or drugs, or whatever they did to those other kids. I took off in the middle of the night, hitchhiked to the first bus station, and chose a destination based on the amount of money I stole from the petty cash behind the desk.
I’d asked the teachers about my parents a couple of times and got variations on “car crash” and “somewhere up north.” New England or New York, maybe? Vague, but possibly true, so I don’t know who my people really were. The lady I called your grandmother—Ileft this at her grave. She was a good friend to me, but no relation. I thought you could do with a grandmother, even if it was only for a few years. I’m sorry; I hope the slight lie of blood is outweighed by the kindness she showed you and me both.
So that’s me.
Your father, I thought he was it. I thought we were forever . He seemed to understand me, didn’t push me or rush me. We met when I was waitressing, and he kept coming back for coffee, which I later realized he hated. For a few years, we were a couple, and it was bliss for me.
You probably get that I might have had problems with trusting folks, but when he told me he worked as an insurance claims adjuster, I believed him. But I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole truth: claims adjusters don’t get calls in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood.
It’s kind of like Bluebeard’s wives. Maybe if I hadn’t peeked, we would still be happy. But when I saw the clothes he washed, with bloodstains that wouldn’t come out, I had to find out what he was doing.
I followed him one night. He joined up with some men, none of who I recognized, but he called them “brother” and “cousin.” Somehow I was able to avoid them seeing me, and I’m glad. I lost them for a few hours, but when I saw them later, it was horrible.
The last couple of times, I followed him with a camera. The pictures I left you? That’s their handiwork. Best I can figure, they were some kind of mob enforcers. My thought was I could use the photos as evidence against them if I had to, but all I wanted was to get away from this man I loved who seemed to have two lives and monstrous habits.
Why didn’t I just go as soon as I knew? I was confused. I hate to admit it, but I got a kind of rush the first time I saw the mess that your father and his friends made. It took me a while to figure out it was just seeing the forbidden, or shock or something, but I knew I couldn’t have a baby and let those feelings lead me to places I knewwere wrong. I might have occasionally heard voices, but I knew right from wrong. Murder wasn’t right.
So I chose you. And I left.
You need to know, he’s gone now, but he was always good to me. Whatever else he was, he never raised a hand or even his voice to me. I trusted him as long as I did for good reasons. Doesn’t mean I ever want you to run into his family.
That’s why we were always on the run. I didn’t want them to find out about you, and I didn’t want them to find us. Hard, to keep dragging you around, but better than the alternative, I think.
Zoe, I hope you’ll understand a little, as far as I’ve been able to tell you, why I did the things we did. You don’t want to burden a child with too much, but you’re grown, and maybe
I ran away from the home when I was fifteen. I was raised in an asylum that was probably for orphans, but seemed like it was at least half lunatics as well. Some kids raved and hollered, some just sat in the corner and stared, harmless enough, most of them. But no matter how bad they were, they were always worse—mute and a little dead behind the eyes—after they received the treatment. That was what decided me; when I found myself hearing whispers when there was no one there, I decided I could live with voices better than electroshock therapy, or drugs, or whatever they did to those other kids. I took off in the middle of the night, hitchhiked to the first bus station, and chose a destination based on the amount of money I stole from the petty cash behind the desk.
I’d asked the teachers about my parents a couple of times and got variations on “car crash” and “somewhere up north.” New England or New York, maybe? Vague, but possibly true, so I don’t know who my people really were. The lady I called your grandmother—Ileft this at her grave. She was a good friend to me, but no relation. I thought you could do with a grandmother, even if it was only for a few years. I’m sorry; I hope the slight lie of blood is outweighed by the kindness she showed you and me both.
So that’s me.
Your father, I thought he was it. I thought we were forever . He seemed to understand me, didn’t push me or rush me. We met when I was waitressing, and he kept coming back for coffee, which I later realized he hated. For a few years, we were a couple, and it was bliss for me.
You probably get that I might have had problems with trusting folks, but when he told me he worked as an insurance claims adjuster, I believed him. But I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole truth: claims adjusters don’t get calls in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood.
It’s kind of like Bluebeard’s wives. Maybe if I hadn’t peeked, we would still be happy. But when I saw the clothes he washed, with bloodstains that wouldn’t come out, I had to find out what he was doing.
I followed him one night. He joined up with some men, none of who I recognized, but he called them “brother” and “cousin.” Somehow I was able to avoid them seeing me, and I’m glad. I lost them for a few hours, but when I saw them later, it was horrible.
The last couple of times, I followed him with a camera. The pictures I left you? That’s their handiwork. Best I can figure, they were some kind of mob enforcers. My thought was I could use the photos as evidence against them if I had to, but all I wanted was to get away from this man I loved who seemed to have two lives and monstrous habits.
Why didn’t I just go as soon as I knew? I was confused. I hate to admit it, but I got a kind of rush the first time I saw the mess that your father and his friends made. It took me a while to figure out it was just seeing the forbidden, or shock or something, but I knew I couldn’t have a baby and let those feelings lead me to places I knewwere wrong. I might have occasionally heard voices, but I knew right from wrong. Murder wasn’t right.
So I chose you. And I left.
You need to know, he’s gone now, but he was always good to me. Whatever else he was, he never raised a hand or even his voice to me. I trusted him as long as I did for good reasons. Doesn’t mean I ever want you to run into his family.
That’s why we were always on the run. I didn’t want them to find out about you, and I didn’t want them to find us. Hard, to keep dragging you around, but better than the alternative, I think.
Zoe, I hope you’ll understand a little, as far as I’ve been able to tell you, why I did the things we did. You don’t want to burden a child with too much, but you’re grown, and maybe
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