Page 7 of Unconditionally With Me
Moving to New York six years ago after my ex and I split was good for me. I don’t regret one single moment living in the city: the time with Trina and her children, growing in my craft, or even falling in love with Julian Rice. But last night, reading Rachel’s letter reminded me I stopped doing something essential.
I stopped living for myself. I was too busy trying to fill the hole in my heart that was blown open because of the past. Her words replay in my mind.
My dear Elle.
I was never so grateful as to see you the day you came to visit me. Not just because of the boneheaded move my family perpetrated against Trina and her lovely children but because I knew you would sustain wounds as well. I knew you would catch Trina when she fell, but who caught you when things fell apart?
You’re very much like me, young Eleanor. You’re compassionate to the point of sacrifice. It’s part of your collective unconsciousness. Yes, we’re responsible for our own mistakes—and trust me, I’m well aware my family has perpetrated many—but we’re all still connected, our lives entwined.
You feel a certain responsibility to helping those you’re close to, ensuring their happiness above your own. You’re so considerate and caring, you absorb responsibilities you don’t even fully understand—such as putting your life on hold to be ‘Aunt Elle.’ Why is it you never made sure Trina was secure and then moved on? Moved away? It’s because your heart, your soul is so entwined with others, you may not recognize it.
But I do because I’m the same way, but I finally had to leave to live the life I wanted to, the life I needed to.
So, I’m offering you that chance, Elle. A chance. It’s entirely up to you if you take it because by the time you read this letter, your life may have completely changed. Your smile may truly come from the heart when I next see you when you come to visit.
And as someone who’s connected to you, nothing would make me happier.
I wish you joy, and a chance.
Rachel
Facing the New York skyline,I don’t regret any of my life’s decisions. And nor do I cast blame. The past is just that. What I am is tremendously sad for the loss of a woman who could have made so much more of an impact on my life if she were alive.
As for Erik, well, the anger and resentment I’ve held against him and Will isn’t mine—it’s Trina’s. Yes, Erik cheated on me with Will, but it wasn’t my family he tried to steal. And I have to find peace instead of holding on to resentment. I can only hope Erik and his new family have as well. It does none of us any good to harbor any ill will toward him this many years later, though if his toenails were to develop an infection that required them to be ripped out without any anesthetic, I wouldn’t feel too much sympathy.
The years since I moved to New York and took the job as a pastry chef were necessary in my own journey to grow, to become the woman I am today. But somewhere along the way, I never realized I stopped living my life for me—Elle Bruder. Truth be told, I’m not entirely certain when it happened. But due to Rachel’s unexpected bequest—both the letter and the building—I’m still in a daze. I have the choice to try one last time for something that maybe I won’t screw up from the beginning.
Chase after my every heart’s desire.
I just can’t do it here with the people who have become as necessary to me as breathing if I decide to keep her gift.
With a sigh, I turn away. I need to head into work. And then I’ll have a few days off to make some major decisions that will have far-reaching impact for more than just me.
* * *
“And then Iwas thinking about the bombe. I think it should have ground-up unicorn horns sprinkled on top. I think you can source them out of Antarctica,” Trina announces.
“Right.” I take a note on my notepad.What would it do to Trina and the kids if I moved all the way across the country?My hand trembles as I write down her instructions about the bombe.
Just as her words penetrate, she stands up and slams her office door. My head snaps up as the glass reverberates throughout the room. “What’s your problem? Are you pregnant again? These instructions are ridiculous,” I snap.
“What’s yours? You weren’t even listening,” she counters.
“I don’t have one,” I lie.
“Don’t try to hand me that bullshit. We’ve been through too much together, Elle.”
I immediately burst into tears.
Trina races over to my side and squats down next to me. “Talk to me. God, Elle, tell me what’s wrong. I know you too well.” She leans forward and snags the box of tissues she keeps on her desk, holding them out to me.
I snag a few, mopping the wetness off my face, but now that I’ve allowed the tears to flow, I can’t stop them. It’s like a dam has burst, and they keep running down my face. Somehow, I manage to regain my composure enough to get out, “Erik.”
And just saying my ex’s name causes hers to pale, likely due to the way Erik’s always been entwined with Will, the biological sperm donor of two of Trina’s children. “What did he want?” she manages to rasp. Her fingers clamp down so tightly on mine, they begin to cut off circulation.
“It wasn’t him,” I reassure her. I take a deep breath before continuing, “Do you remember me ever mentioning his great-aunt Rachel?”
“The zany one his family barely spoke with in the nursing home in Seattle? The one you sent cookies to every month? Of course. Is she okay?” Trina’s fingers let up on mine, allowing blood to flow again to the tips.
