I attempt to find the most eloquent way to say it, but I can’t. Sometimes the most simplistic questions are the hardest to ask. I squeeze his hand and look him in the eyes. “Holder…will you be okay?”
His expression is unreadable as he watches me. He laces his fingers through mine and turns his attention back to the sky above us.
“All this time,” he says, quietly. “For the past year I’ve done nothing but hate and resent Les for what she did. I hated her because we led the exact same life. We had the exact same parents who went through the exact same divorce. We had the exact same best friend who was ripped from our lives. We shared the exact same grief over what happened to you, Sky. We moved to the same town in the same house with the same mom and the same school. The things that happened in her life were the exact same things that happened in mine. But she always took it so much harder. Sometimes at night I would hear her crying. I would always go lay with her and hold her, but there were so many times I just wanted to scream at her for being so much weaker than me.
“Then that night…when I found out what she did…I hated her. I hated her for giving up so easily. I hated that she thought her life was so much harder than mine, when they were the exact same.”
He sits up and turns to face me, taking both of my hands in his. “I know the truth now. I know that her life was a million times harder than mine. And the fact that she still smiled and laughed every single day, but I never had a single clue what kind of shit she had been through…I finally see how brave she really was. And it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how to deal with it all. I wish that she would have asked for help or told someone what happened, but everyone deals with these things differently, especially when you think you’re all alone. You were able to block it out and that’s how you coped. I think she tried to do that, but she was a lot older when it happened to her so it made it impossible. Instead of blocking it out and never thinking about it again, I know she did the exact opposite. I know that it consumed every part of her life until she just couldn’t take it anymore.
“And you can’t say that Karen’s choice had any direct link to what your father did to Les. If Karen had never taken you away from him, he more than likely would have still done those things to Les whether you were there or not. It’s who he was. It’s what he did. So if you’re asking me if I blame Karen, the answer is no. The only thing I wish Karen would have done differently…is I wish she could have taken Les, too.”
He wraps his arms around me and brings his mouth to my ear. “Whatever you decide, baby. Whatever you feel will make your heart heal faster…that’s what I want for you. That’s what Les wants for you, too.”
I hug him back and bury my head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Holder.”
He holds me silently while I think about the decision that isn’t even much of a decision anymore. After a while, I pull away from him and lift the box into my lap. I run my fingers across the top of it and hesitate before touching the latch. I press on it and slowly lift the lid as I close my eyes, hesitant to see what’s inside of it. I take a deep breath once the lid is lifted, then I open my eyes and peer down into the eyes of my mother. I pick the picture up between my trembling fingers, looking at a woman who could be no one else but the person who created me. From my mouth to my eyes to my cheekbones, I’m her. Every part of me is her.
I set the picture down and pick up the one beneath it. This one causes even more emotions to resurface, because it’s a picture of both of us. I can’t be older than two and I’m sitting in her lap with my arms wrapped around her neck. She’s kissing me on the cheek and I’m staring at the camera with a smile bigger than life. Tears fall onto the picture in my hands, so I wipe them off and place the pictures in Holder’s hands. I need for him to see what I so desperately had to go back to my father’s house for.
There’s one more item in the box. I pick it up and lace the necklace through my fingers. It’s a silver locket in the shape of a star. I snap it open and look at the picture of myself as an infant. Inscribed inside the locket on the side opposite the photo it says, “My ray of Hope.”
I unclasp the necklace and bring it to the back of my neck. Holder reaches up and takes both clasps while I pull my hair up. He fastens it and I let my hair down, then he kisses the side of my head.
“She’s beautiful. Just like her daughter.” He hands the pictures back to me and kisses me gently. He looks down at my locket and opens it, then stares at it for several moments, smiling. He snaps it shut and looks back into my eyes. “Are you ready?”