This is my goodbye letter, Amelia.
I was once called a coward. It was the day I refused to murder your mama.
I may not be a coward, Amelia, but I feel broken.
In the case you are ever to find this letter, I do not want to leave you wondering. I am about to ingest an overdose of aspirin. It will be painless and quick, much like what I don’t deserve. It’s the only way out. I am so sorry we didn’t get the chance to be together, but if life chooses our paths, it is clear you were not meant to be with a monster. You were meant for much more than me.
I love you, Amelia. Always and forever.
-Charlie
I refold the letter and place it neatly back inside the envelope. Two pairs of eyes are staring at me as if I am a ghost. My hand is shaking as I place the envelope back inside my briefcase. My gaze is set on Amelia’s face, wondering what thoughts are running through her mind. "You were supposed to kill my mother?"
"Yes."
Amelia glances down at her hands as she intertwines her fingers. "I had my moments too, Charlie. I’m not proud of those moments, but there were times where I thought I couldn’t live with my nightmares." I should have prepared myself for that kind of truth, but I’m not sure anyone is ever ready to hear those words. "Life is full of challenges, and it is those moments that shape us for the future. We learn from our mistakes."
She is correct, though, I was not quick to learn. "It wasn’t a mistake, Amelia. I had full intentions of falling asleep and never waking up again."
Chapter 32
1947
New York City, NY
It was a year after we had moved to New York City. I was holding down a stable job at a bakery. Claude was slinging drinks at a pub, and Juliette was becoming more popular and famous by the day—she worked the hardest of us all with nightly performances five nights a week. From an outside perspective, we were three lucky emigrants, living what should be a dream.
A dream would have included Amelia.
Three days after swallowing half a bottle of aspirin, I was waiting for my release papers from Bellevue Hospital where I was treated for an overdose. Claude and Juliette found me while my heart was still beating. They rushed me to the hospital where I was saved from what I didn't want to be saved from.
Both Claude and Juliette sat by my bedside for three days, angry at me—disappointed.
"I still don't understand what in the world was going through your mind, Charlie. We have spent so long trying to get here, to America. It was our dream. Then, you get here, and you lose the will to live. How does that just happen?" Juliette scolded me.
"I wish you hadn't saved me," I told them.
Claude was more than just frustrated, as was Juliette. She threw down her magazine, and the pages slapped against the tiled floors, and then she stormed out of the hospital room with her hand cupped over her nose and mouth. "She loves you like I do, you know. You are being selfish," Claude said.
"So be it," I said. I was not backing down from the way I felt. "You should not be one to talk. Have you already forgotten what you did to yourself just before you met Juliette?"
"I wish I never told you any of that. I didn't think for one minute you would hold it against me," Claude snapped. He pushed his chair out from beneath him. The wooden legs scraped sharply against the floor.
"You're just angry because you understand how I feel. You agree with the way I feel, and you have considered the same solutions like the one I had."
Claude pressed his fingers into his temples. "I need a break. I need air." Claude left, following in Juliette's footsteps.
A doctor visited while Claude and Juliette were away. I was asked a few dozen standard questions and gave untruthful answers to most. It wasn't a mystery on what I had to do to receive my ticket out of the hospital. I needed the doctors to believe that my lapse in judgment was just that—I had learned my lesson.
Truthfully, I had not learned a lesson.
The three of us were taken back to our apartment by a cab. The ride was quiet, and the interior of the vehicle smelled like menthol and body sweat. The seat was sticky and the air was thick. I felt as though the space was becoming smaller by the second. I didn't want Claude's arm leaning against my shoulder. Space was all I desired, but it was a challenge since I shared a home with them.
My air was polluted.
Nothing would change between us three until I convinced them that I made a mistake. If not, they would hover and watch over me like I was a child. It was the very last thing I wanted.
"I am sorry," I offered as we walked into our apartment.
