I remained sitting on Mom’s bed for a long time.
Eventually, I began returning the envelopes to the box.
That was when I noticed one wedged beneath the fabric lining.
It was sealed.
Elaine’s name was written across the front in Mom’s handwriting.
I could have opened it.
I didn’t.
That evening, I asked Raven to come over.
She sat at Mom’s kitchen table in the same chair where I had first seen her.
“How did you and Mom really become friends?”
“She insulted my book.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“That definitely sounds like her.”
Raven smiled too.
“We started talking. I told her my mother and I weren’t speaking because she hated that I left college to become a tattoo artist.”
“And Mom told you about Elaine?”
“Yes.”
“So she kept telling you to call your mother.”
“Every Saturday.”
“And you kept telling her to call Elaine.”
“Pretty much.”
I looked at my hands.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
Raven hesitated.
“She was embarrassed.”
“About what?”
“You’d been telling her for years to contact Elaine. She kept refusing. Then someone she barely knew told her the same thing, and suddenly she wanted to try.”
Raven leaned forward.
“Maeve, your mother didn’t choose me instead of you.”
I looked up.
“She was simply less ashamed to admit she was frightened to someone who hadn’t watched her spend years pretending she wasn’t.”
That stayed with me.
The next morning, I drove to Elaine’s house.
Mom’s sealed letter was inside my purse.
When Elaine opened the door, her expression hardened.
“I told you I needed time.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
I held out the envelope.
“I found this after you left.”
She stared at her name.
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted.
“There’s nothing left to repair between Doris and me.”
“No,” I said. “There isn’t.”
She frowned.
“Mom died before either of you found the courage to speak. I can’t change that.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Nothing.”
That surprised her.
“I came because I need to say something without defending myself.”
My throat tightened.
“Five years ago, when you asked whether Mom talked about you, I knew she did.”
Part 3:
Elaine went still.
“I knew she missed you. I gave you the easiest answer because I didn’t want to deal with whatever might happen afterward.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe she didn’t care.”
“Yes.”
Anger flashed across her face.
For once, I didn’t explain myself.
I didn’t try to soften what I had done.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I said. “But I’m finished pretending silence doesn’t have consequences.”
I placed Mom’s envelope beside her door.
“This belongs to you.”
Then I left without telling her whether she should read it.
Three weeks later, Elaine came to Mom’s house.
She sat across from me at the kitchen table.
The wooden box rested beside her chair.
“I read the card.”
I waited.
“She said she’d wasted years waiting until she knew exactly what she wanted to say.”
Elaine stared into her coffee.
“Then she wrote that maybe waiting was the entire problem.”
“What else?”
Elaine’s voice softened.
“She missed me.”
I almost reached for her hand but stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“I wrote almost exactly the same thing to her last year.”
That evening, Raven sent me a message.
“I finally called my mom. We’re having dinner tomorrow. Wish me luck.”
I smiled and put my phone down.
Elaine turned one of Mom’s old cards between her fingers.
“I don’t know what happens between us now.”
“Neither do I.”
I swallowed.
“But I’d like to see you again, if you want that.”
She looked at me.
“No pressure,” I added. “I think I’ve spent enough time trying to control how everyone else fixes things.”
Her expression softened.
I thought about how jealous I had once been of Raven.
A woman half my age.
A stranger I believed had somehow taken my place in my mother’s life.
But Raven hadn’t replaced me.
She had simply known one part of Mom that I hadn’t been invited to see.
Maybe loving someone for an entire lifetime doesn’t mean knowing every corner of them.
Elaine picked up her coffee.
“Call me next week.”
“I will.”
And this time, I meant it.
Because for once, instead of trying to repair everyone around me, I was finally ready to work on the person I could actually change.
Myself.
