Where We Meet Again, стр. 66

Law pulls his Leatherman from his pocket, switching the blade up with his thumb, and in one fluid movement, slices the envelope open. Inside are two pieces of lined paper folded into thirds.

He leans forward and drains the rest of his drink in one swallow. Resting his elbows on the desk, he retrieves the letter and opens it.

Lawrence,

To say the diagnosis of Pancreatic Cancer is a relief is an understatement. By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. I know that won’t stop you from wishing I were alive so you could kill me yourself. Believe me, son, I understand. Too many times over the years I wanted to take the coward’s way out. The pain of the heinous things I’d done was unbearable, but living through every day after was my penance, and mine alone to bear. Taking my own life would have only added another loss in your life, something you’ve had more than your share of since you were sixteen years old.

As I write this, I am still shocked to know this secret has lived on. When I sent her away fourteen years ago, I thought it was only a matter of time until she came back. Weeks turned into months, turned into years without a sign of her, even after her brother died. I waited. I was always waiting for that moment the other shoe would drop, and she would come back to demand her due.

I know I’m rambling. This isn’t easy to tell you, after of living a lie for so long. I’m going to come out and say it now, and son, I hope you have it in you to forgive her. Forgive her, because the sole responsibility for what happened lies on my shoulders.

I raped her, and she got pregnant. 

I’m ashamed to say how long it took me to believe that it wasn’t just sex, but there’s no responsibility I can place on her. She was sixteen, that in and of itself is rape by the definition of the law, but besides that, she didn’t come onto me. She didn’t want me. If she could have, she would have said no.

You don’t want the details; in fact, they’ll only hurt you, but I’m giving them to you, anyway. I hope that you will understand, and in the chance your paths cross again, you can forgive her.

You told me how you broke her heart. What I hid from you is that I already knew that. She came to our house after school that day. She was upset and crying. I was upset and drunk.

Something else I hadn’t shared with you, until right now, is that I knew about your mother’s affair long before we told you. We waited until you were out of high school to split up, but the week before this happened, I knew. And to deal with that, I spent a lot of time drunk.

I found Cami crying on your bed that afternoon. Nothing I said calmed her, so I went to get her a drink of water. To this day, I don’t know what crossed my mind. I’d blame the alcohol, but that doesn’t make it right. I drugged her with your mother’s muscle relaxers. I thought they’d help her relax, so I crushed two in her drink. How she didn’t taste them, I’ll never know. 

You need to know she never consented. I touched her and kissed her, and I think she was too shocked to do anything. Within minutes, she was unconscious. By that point, I’d lost control and couldn’t make myself stop. Nothing I say will make you understand my decision, and my thoughts and feelings are unimportant, so I’ll leave it at that.

She came to me weeks later, pregnant, and when I’d suggested it, refused to have an abortion. That’s another thing I’ll never understand. A simple procedure could have avoided much, but I was far too selfish to respect her decision. Instead, I’d forced her away, offering her cash and monthly support in exchange for her disappearance.

Cami took the cash, ten grand, but refused the monthly payments.

And as you know, she never came back.

If you never see her again, I at least hope you can forgive her for leaving. She stuck up for what she believed in and proved her strength.

I, on the other hand, look forward to the day this cancer kills me, and I have paid my final debt.

I love you, son. You don’t have to forgive me and I don’t expect you to, but learn to let the past go before it kills you too.

Dad

P.S. There’s a saving’s account with County Living Financial with my name on it. See that the lawyer gets the money to Cami. There’s no price that will change what I did to her, but I hope it helps.

Law braces, hand gripping the corner of the oak desk as the bile rushes up his throat, and there on the floor of his father’s office, he vomits.