“It’s okay,” Jem said, slipping an arm around Tean’s waist.“You’re going through a lot.It’ll get better.”
Sniffling, Tean shook his head.But after a moment, he said, “At the beginning, the first few times I met with Hudson, it was such a relief.I felt so much better.Exhausted.And—and raw.But so much better.I was saying things I hadn’t said out loud before.Saying things I didn’t even know I thought, sometimes.About my family.About how I grew up.About how it made me—” His mouth twisted.“—so fucked up.”
“Hey,” Jem said.
“And then it stopped feeling good.It just…hurts.My emotions are totally out of control.I get overwhelmed way too easily.Half the time, I feel like I’m going crazy.And I know you’ve noticed.I know we’ve…talked about it, I guess.”
Jem waited, but when there wasn’t more, he said, “Not really.”
“No, not really.You’re right.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I don’t know that there’s much more to tell.”But Tean wiped his fingers on his shoulder and said, “I understand, at a cognitive level, that therapy is about learning to accept the things in your life that you can’t change.But it’s just so frustrating.The things they said.The things they did.All the ways they made it impossible for me to be a normal, healthy, well-adjusted adult.And do you know what the worst part is?Even though that’s all true, the worst part is that I’m also mad at myself.I’m the one who made those choices.I’m the one who’s responsible.And that just makes it harder.”
Jem listened to their breathing, the broken rhythm of it.Maeve was trying to do a somersault now.Milo was jumping at a wall and kicking off it and screaming intermittently.
“I’m sorry your life isn’t what you want it to be,” Jem said.
“Jem, no.No, no, no.That’s not what I meant at all.”Tean turned, still in the circle of Jem’s arm, and put his hand on Jem’s cheek.“I love you so much.More than I ever thought I could love someone.I’ve never been happy the way I am with you—and that’s because of you.Because you make me happy.This is the life I want.I wouldn’t change anything if it meant I had to give you up.”
Jem nodded.
“Sweetheart,” Tean whispered.“Love.Hey.”
Jem blinked.He turned his eyes up to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Tean said.“I didn’t think— Jem, please, that’s not what I meant.I’m not expressing myself well.That’s my fault.I just—” But he stopped again.“Remember that assignment?The letter to myself.”
Somehow, Jem managed another nod.
“I don’t know what to say to myself.I don’t know what to tell that younger version of me.Or I do, but when I start to write it—I don’t know.I tried.And I can’t.I just can’t.”He drew a deep breath.And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little notebook.He held it out to Jem.“But I thought, maybe, I could write a letter to you.”
Jem took the notebook.He opened it.Tean’s familiar handwriting blurred as he tried to clear his eyes.The letters seemed extra slippery today, and it took him longer than he wanted to follow the shapes.But he made himself go slow.He took his time.
Dear Jem,
In my mind, you’re eleven years old, and you’re living in a home that I know very little about, and you have already learned so many hard truths about this world and about the people who live in it.I know you are smart and capable, that you know how to take care of yourself, and my heart breaks that you had to learn those things so young.You are kind and tender-hearted, and you take care of people who are weaker than you.I don’t know if you’ve met Benny yet, but I know that wherever you are, you’re watching out for people who need it.I also suspect that you are causing a great deal of trouble and that you’ve got a haircut you hate.
The laugh tore its way out of Jem’s chest.He pulled up his sweatshirt to dry his eyes.
I’m writing this to tell you the things I wish someone had told you when you were a child.First, that you are worthy of being loved.You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my life.The idea that anyone couldnotlove you is impossible for me to understand.To repeat, you are smart and capable, talented in so many ways, brave and self-reliant.You are a good friend to those in need.You are kind.You are silly and playful, and one of the things I love most about you is that somehow, in spite of everything the world has tried to do to you, you have protected that childlike wonder, and you use it to make the world a brighter place for the people around you.
I also want you to know that you are going to be okay.I wish someone had told you that.You are going to go on and have a wonderful life.You are going to meet someone who is trying his hardest to love you the way you deserve to be loved, even though he’s kind of a mess himself.You are going to have a son (Scipio) who loves you even more than he loves his babies (the balls that are supposed to stay outside).You are going to have a home, Jem.And you are going to have a family.
You wonder why this happened to you.I wish I had an answer.Sometimes, there are no answers except that other people are imperfect, and their lives intersect with ours in messy ways.But in case you are wondering, I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you.You’re not bad.You didn’t do anything to deserve a difficult start to your life.Whatever mistakes you made—or make—you still deserve to be happy and fulfilled and loved.
I have the advantage of knowing how you’re going to grow up, and the man you’re going to become.I’m so proud of you for that—proud, and in awe, and grateful.Grateful most of all for the chance to have you in my life, and that you are willing to have me, too.I love you so much.Hang in there.
And then there was the absolute worst doodle of a dog.
Wiping his eyes, Jem asked, “Is that supposed to be Scipio?”
“Well, the tail isn’t right.Or the legs.Or his head, really.”
Jem ran his thumb over the ballpoint drawing.“He’s perfect.”
Maeve had forgotten about her own performance and had gotten back into the role of bossy older sister—she was now supervising Milo, telling him how fast to run, how high to jump, where to kick the wall.
