Tom, you don’t need to keep doing this. I know how hard it is for you to send him. But if you’re going to keep helping me, we need to talk about how long we’re going to keep the truth from him. He’s not a little boy anymore. He deserves to know who you are to him. — Marilyn
And there you have it.
Thirty-nine years of marriage, and the only conclusion I could reach was that Thomas had a secret child — a whole life I wasn’t invited to see.
We need to talk about how long we’re going to keep the truth from him/her.
“I was 19 when I married you,” I muttered in the hallway. “When did you find the time?”
I shuffled through other envelopes until I saw a return address that made me stop breathing for a second.
She came from a state correctional facility.
I tore it up and the mystery became stranger.
Tommy, you shouldn’t be writing to me. Mom and Dad changed your name and sent you away to protect you from what I did, don’t you understand that?
“When did you find the time?”
I blinked. What was I reading?
“We’re almost there,” called the locksmith.
I nodded distractedly and continued reading.
I’m glad you reached out. It gives me a chance to apologize. I should have been a better role model for you, Tommy. If I could go back, I’d be a better big brother — Steve
Big brother? Thomas always told me he was an only child. How many layers of lies have been hidden in that closet?
What was I reading?
I took another letter from the pile.
Tommy, I heard from Marilyn. She came to see me. She’s pregnant. I don’t know what kind of father I can be from here, but if this baby comes into the world with my last name, it deserves better than what I gave it — Steve.
I reread Marilyn’s first letters. The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.
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