Page 14 of Dear Rosie

My dad died tonight.

And that means I’m free.

But I need to be free of Nathan too.

Reaching into the top drawer, I pull out a notebook and tear out a sheet of paper.

My hand shakes a little, and before I reach for my pen, I reach for my bag of marshmallows.

They’re minis—easier for me to savor than the big ones. But I still only put one in my mouth.

I let it dissolve on my tongue as I stare down at the blank page.

When the marshmallow is gone, I grab my pen and start writing my second letter of the night.

Dear Nathan,

It’s time to let you go…

Once I’ve signed the letter, I fold the paper into thirds, but I don’t put it in an envelope.

I stand and go to my closet, where I crouch down.

When I find the right shoebox, I open it up.

Papers folded just like this one fill the box. Only the first one is in an envelope.

The first letter I ever wrote him. The one that got returned.

I press the letter currently in my hand against my chest and breathe.

I have no idea what I’m going to do now.

No idea where I’ll go.

There’s no one left to tell me what to do.

No one to care.

I lift the letter to my lips and place a soft kiss on the paper. Then I slip it into the box at the end of the row.

The last of dozens of letters I’ve written to Nathan.

Letters I’ve written but never mailed.

ONE

ROSALYN

(AGE THIRTY-THREE)

Hissing, I jerk my hand away from the sizzling bacon. “Fuck me.”

My coworker snickers. “You okay, Boss?”

I shake my hand out and smile at Presley. “Totally fine.”

She grins. “Well, we’re ahead of schedule, so you can probably chill a bit.”

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