Page 155 of Tear Me Apart
“She’s cunning. Do you think she was trying to protect you, or putting it aside to dangle it over you at the right time if she needed to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about her anymore.”
* * *
They agree, in the way of men who have carried guilt for much of their lives, that no one will benefit from hearing the whole story except for those directly affected—in other words, Mindy.
They agree to call a truce between them, to focus their energies on helping Mindy heal, and to helping Mindy move on.
They agree, standing on the windswept hillside, to share the girl between them. To always stand by her, to be there for her, to make up for the losses of both of her mothers.
They shake on it, then drive back to the hospital to visit their daughter.
Later that night, in the cool air of the Wrights’ guest room, Kat cuddled next to him on the bed, Zack reads the letters between the two women, and the letter to him from his dead wife.
Thirty minutes later, in shock, he whispers, “Oh, my love.” His heart is breaking for what could have been, for what he was too stupid to see. “Oh, V.”
He reads the letter again, the tears welling. Revels in the words from his dead wife, hearing her voice, smiling and laughing and crying. Is angry at himself all over again.
He could have saved her if she’d just told him the truth.
95
July 2000
Zachary, my darling,
I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. The baby is kicking up a storm, I really can’t wait for you to meet her.
I have some bad news. I don’t know how to tell you this, so I am going to write it down, and then... I can’t tell you over the phone. This is news that should be shared in person, but I’m not strong enough.
First, let me say you have been the greatest gift of my life. I love you very much.
True confession time: I have a long and storied history with severe depression, and with suicide. And now, it’s time for me to end things properly.
I know this means I will not live to see our baby grow up. That makes me sad, it does. But every time I go down, it’s worse than the last. I just can’t take the blackness anymore.
I’ve asked a friend to help, to make sure there are no mistakes. I’m going to give her this letter and make sure it gets to you after I’m gone. Liesel will tell you about how we met, and the shape I was in then. I’m worse now. And I know it will never get better. The years I’ve spent sliding up and down—this kind of life, it’s not fair to you, or Violet.
I hope you’ll forgive me someday. I hope you’ll understand just how weak I am. I want to be strong, for once. I want to die a soldier’s death, clean and sudden, instead of lingering in pain and black.
I will always love you and watch over you. Raise our girl right. Don’t let her do anything reckless.
I’ve taken care of everything from my end. Now it’s your turn. Find someone to love, who will love our girl like she’s her own. Be happy. Be wonderful.
With all my heart,
V
96
THE WRIGHTS’ HOUSE
SIX WEEKS LATER
Mindy wakes from a delicious dream. Her mother—Vivian, walking through a green park, a book in her hand, toward a light. The air is scented with roses, and Vivian looks so happy, so carefree. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles at Mindy, waves, blows a kiss, and then she is gone.
This dream should make her sad, but instead, she feels good. Right. Strong.
