Chapter 17 - BEATRICE’S LETTER
Beatrice wrote from prison when Ava was nine.
The letter came through attorneys because direct contact remained prohibited.
She wrote:
Ava,
I have remembered the window every day.
I told myself I would never let go. I told myself that made what I did less dangerous.
It did not.
I used your fear and your mother’s fear because I believed our family was collapsing.
I am sorry.
I gave the letter to Ava’s therapist.
Not Ava.
At eleven, she chose to read it.
Her first question:
“Did she really hold me outside?”
“Near the open window. Nurses said part of your body crossed the interior sill line.”
“Would she have dropped me?”
“I don’t know.”
Ava looked angry.
“I hate not knowing.”
“I know.”
“Do you think she loved me?”
“She barely knew you. She may have believed she loved the idea of you.”
“That’s worse.”
Maybe.
I let it sit.
Sarah’s letters remained defensive for years.
Then one came:
I hit Elara because I believed the PIN mattered more than her pain.
Ava was fourteen when she read that.
She said:
“Everyone keeps saying they believed something mattered more.”
“Yes.”
“Is that how bad things happen?”
“Sometimes.”
“What mattered more to Dad?”
“His father’s approval and saving the company.”
“More than me?”
“In that moment, his actions treated those things as more urgent than protecting you.”
Ava cried.
Then later called Ethan.
I did not listen.
Their relationship belonged partly to them now.
After the call, she said:
May you like
“He didn’t argue.”
That mattered.
