Ikept it hidden between the pages of my contract for the Edie Fitzgerald movie. No one wanted to see that thing ever again, least of all me. But I knew I would want to see the letter, that I would want to have it despite the fact that it could incriminate me in a big way. And I had to admit that Grammy’s words were the ones I thought of as I talked to Mark that night. Hers were the words that suddenly made everything seem so clear.
Dear Emerson,
Thank you, my love. I wouldn’t be here now without you, and I thank you for setting me free, for allowing me back to a place where I could be with my husband again, where I could be out of pain and at peace. Do not spend one single day thinking about this, worrying about it, fretting over it. It was my choiceand my decision. The only part of this that is on you is my eternal gratitude.
I have studied you since you were a child, Emerson, seen the way your struggle is so visible to the outside world, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. As you have gotten older, I have seen you withdraw into yourself more, and while I don’t think that’s a bad thing, I want to tell you that it’s OK to show people how you feel. Being vulnerable is how we grow and change; it’s how we let others see us. Sometimes it’s how we come to understand ourselves.
Darling girl, if I had to guess, you are going to have a lot of big decisions to make this year. How I wish I could be here to witness them, to guide you in a way that only someone with more than eighty years of life experience can. A lot of grandmothers would tell you to follow your heart, but I have to think that advice is a bit simplistic. My advice would be to find out what it is that you really, truly want. And then don’t let anything get in the way of that. Life is too short to settle, my girl. Or, actually, maybe it’s too long to settle. It certainly must seem that way to those who choose an inauthentic path.
No matter what happens, please remember that you are always my star. And when you look into the sky at night and see another star twinkling extra bright, know that that is me, shining down on you, helping to illuminate your path. Until we meet again...
All my love forever,
Grammy
As we sat on the sidewalk after our engagement party, which was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of our life together, Mark took my hand and said, “Tonight made it all seem real. It’s like I realized this was actually happening, that this thing I have dreamed about for so long was coming to fruition.”
My stomach felt very unsettled, but I smiled encouragingly and said, “It is, Mark. It’s finally happening, and it’s going to be amazing.”
He smiled sadly at me, and I knew what he was going to say next. “Em, I love you. I have wanted only you for my entire life. But I’m not going to beg you to stay here for me. I spent my childhood doing it to my mother, and I can’t spend my adulthood doing it to you.”
I exhaled slowly, tears springing to my eyes. “Mark,” I whispered, “please don’t do this.” But I truly didn’t know what to say next.
“It’s OK,” he said. “I know you love me, too. But we want different things.” He scooted closer to me and put his arm around me, pulling me into him. “As much as Iwantto marry you—and as much as I think you really want to marry me, too—I think we also both know that marriage isn’t going to fix our problems.”
“It might,” I said, more to the wind than to Mark. They were just words. We both knew they weren’t true.
I rested my head on his shoulder for what I knew would be one of the last times, inhaling the scent of him that was as familiar as my own. I put my hand on his leg, feeling the rough fabric of his khaki pants, balling it in my hands like that would make him stay, like it would make all of this different. I could taste my tears now, the lights of the museum across the street blurring in front of me. This part of my life was finally over—but even in that devastating moment, I had to admit that it had really ended when I was still the head cheerleader.
We sat there like that for a long time, neither of us saying a word. I finally leaned back and put my hand on Mark’s cheek. “Look at me,” I said. “It breaks me that you think you’re not good enough for someone to stay. I can’t leave here tonight having you think that, Mark. You are, hands down, one of the very best people I know, and you are worthy of everything wonderful life has to offer. Please, please, don’t ever forget that.”
He kissed me then. There were tears in his eyes as he said, “And Emerson, you deserve to have your dreams. You deserve not to have them taken away from you. I want everything for you, too.”
I kissed him one last time, and it took all I had to stand up and walk away, because, even though it was clearly the right decision, sometimes you want the wrong decision. Quite often, actually. I couldn’t turn or look back because I knew if I saw him sitting on that sidewalk all alone like a forgotten child, I would run back to him and beg him to change his mind. And while I knew I could be happy with him, I also knew I would never be happy feeling constantly torn between two worlds, always feeling guilty for doing the one thing that made me feel most alive. As Grammy had written to me, that would make life feel terribly long.
I still don’t know what made me take it all out on my mother a few minutes later on my front porch, what made me say the worst thing to her that a child could possibly say, when I asked if she had ever even loved my father.
I honestly think, in some twisted way, I had been pushing her all this time, just like I did when I was a kid, seeing how long she would maintain her composure until she absolutely snapped. As I watched her walk to Jack’s house, I felt suddenly so empty. She didn’t know about Mark and me. I hadn’t told her. She was the only one who could make it better. And I had pushed her away—probably because I didn’twantto feel better. I didn’t feel like I deserved to. Not yet.
“Wow,” Sloane said, opening the front door for us to go inside.
“I’m still a little mad at her,” Caroline said, “but that was evil.”
Sloane nodded, and I crossed my arms, looking from one sister to the other.
“Mark and I aren’t getting married,” I said, sobbing, as if that was some sort of excuse for why I had accused our mother of something so vicious.
My sisters exchanged a knowing glace, which annoyed the hell out of me.
I threw my arms up in the air. “Fine,” I said. “Fine. Just say it. You don’t like Mark. You’re glad I’m not marrying him.”
“No, no, no, no,” Sloane said, pulling me in close to her.
Caroline stroked my hair and said soothingly, “We love Mark. We adore him.”
“We only want you to be happy,” Sloane said. “We want you to have everything you want.”
“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes, pulling away from Sloane. “But I do love him.” I sniffed, feeling a little better.
