I'm going to prove to you that I'm still your Atlas.
Kiss the boys for me. I'm sorry I'm missing Liam's birthday.
Tell them I miss them so much, and I'll be home soon. It might not mean much to them right now.
I wrote them their own letters, and I hope they read them.
But, if they don't yet, if they can't yet, it's okay.
I'm going to prove it to them.
And I'm gonna prove it to you.
Your Atlas.
I love you, Wendy.
Always have.
"Always will," I tearfully whisper, my hand going over my mouth to muffle a sob.
I saw the letters when I got home after work, the boys carrying in their bags from the mall as Ioohedandawedover the Santa photos, teasing them that they were so cute that I was going to make a million copies and paste them all over town.
Noah giggled while Liam rolled his eyes. From the number of bags in their hands, Aunt Taylor certainly spoiled them, so I sent them upstairs to put their loot away while I checked the mail.
My heart dropped when I saw the three letters, one addressed to each of us, all from the rehab facility where Atlas was.
My shaky fingers brushed over the blocky handwriting on the envelope—Atlas' handwriting.
While the boys were distracted upstairs, I ripped open the one with my name on it.
The sweet words in this letter pushes me even deeper into that gray area.
I’m still in love, still hurt, still aching for him, still needing some distance, still wanting to wrap myself in his embrace, still scared that it's all only temporary.
And still so goddamn hopeful.
???
While we eat dinner at the kitchen table, I bring up the letters.
"Something came in the mail today for you guys."
"Christmas presents?" Liam asked hopefully, sharing a smile with Noah.
"My brushes!" Noah chirps, referring to the rather luxurious paint brushes he asked Santa for in his letter.
They're wrapped nicely, hiding in my closet, right next toLiam's new gaming console.
"You knowSantabrings them on Christmas and not a day before."
Liam and Noah share a look but don't say anything, still entertaining my delusion that my babies are young enough to believe in Santa.
"No. You both received a letter from your Daddy."
Silence stretches, almost uncomfortably, as both boys process my words.
Liam breaks it with a harsh laugh. "No thanks. Don't really need to read a letter from the insane asylum."
