He sat on the edge of his perfectly made bed looking pale.
“What if she doesn’t want me?”
“Then we respect that.”
“What if she hates me?”
“Then we deal with the truth together.”
“What if she forgot me?”
That one hurt.
I had no reassuring answer.
So I simply sat beside him and held his hand.
Eventually, he stood.
And we went.
—
Rachel and David met us in their living room.
Rachel looked nervous.
David looked ashamed.
That told me something before anyone even spoke.
The first ten minutes were painful.
Awkward conversation.
Everyone carefully avoiding the real reason we were there.
Luke sat beside me completely rigid.
Then Rachel suddenly stood and went upstairs.
She returned carrying a plastic storage container.
She placed it on the coffee table.
“What is that?” Luke asked.
“Letters.”
Her voice cracked.
She opened the lid.
The container was full.
Envelope after envelope.
