By the time I get to the bottom of the stack, my eyes are puffy, and my heart is raw.
There are just two letters left. Slowly, I open the second to last.
Rory,
Well, pretty sure your mail forwarding would have expired by now. If you even had it to begin with.
I just can’t bring myself to stop writing to you. Every letter gives me a nugget of fresh hope that maybe this is the one that will change your mind. It’ll be the one that convinces you to respond to me.
I’ll keep writing you forever if it might bring you back to me.
Even if every envelope that goes unanswered crushes something inside of me.
These letters have helped me process things in my own way, which is kind of ironic. I feel like you’d be mad about that. Say something sassy about how I don’t deserve to process and heal from this.
But when I started writing you, I was selfish. I didn’t want to lose my daughter. I knew I’d hurt you, but I don’t think I realized how much.
With every passing week and month, I’ve seen more and more what my cheating on your mother must’ve doneto you, and the way it must’ve hit you deep for you to react the way you have.
You’ve helped me accept some responsibility for my actions, whether you meant to or not. And I’ve come to realize that I might not ever win your love or trust back. I just don’t want to have fucked it all up for any other man in your life either.
If hearing me say I messed up and I’m sorry does anything at all to help you, I’ll keep doing it.
Even if you don’t ever accept those words from me.
Nobody is perfect, but I’m a weaker man than I’m proud to admit. Temptation has always been my downfall, which isn’t an easy thing to admit to your daughter.
Daddies are supposed to be their daughters’ heroes.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be yours forever.
Your strength makes you my hero now, Dove.
Love,
Dad
The very last letter is in a different envelope than all the rest.
My heart lodges in my throat, a gasp catching there when I take in a scrawl I haven’t seen in almost three years.
My eyes blur as I recognize it, and I handle it with the gentlest care my shaking hands are capable of, untucking the envelope and pulling the lined paper out.
It’s the shortest letter yet, but my eyes savor each and every stroke of her pen.
Asshole,
Rory left town right after you did.
I thought she might be back by now, but it’s been a year and I’m starting to think she’s serious about it.
For what it’s worth, if she came back tomorrow, I might give her your letters and not use them for tinder. Only because I think she needs to hear from her daddy, not because you deserve time from any of us. But because you might have hurt her worst of all and I’m not sure anyone else but you can fix it.
So stop writing letters.
No one is reading them.
Your faithful ex-wife,
