My husband Danny died two years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light on his way home from work. He was thirty-six.<\/p>\n
Our son Eli was six.<\/p>\n
Danny\u2019s mother, Donna, has never forgiven me. For what, I\u2019m not entirely sure. For being the one he married, maybe. For being the one who got to keep his son. For working as a dental hygienist instead of something she considered respectable. She\u2019s never said it out loud, but she\u2019s made it clear in a hundred small ways.Track Pregnancy<\/p>\n
Danny\u2019s younger brother, Scott, has a son too. Tyler is nine. Tyler is the golden grandchild. Tyler gets the big Christmas presents, the trips to the lake, the framed photos on Donna\u2019s mantel.<\/p>\n
Eli gets a card with twenty dollars in it. Sometimes.<\/p>\n
Last Saturday was Eli\u2019s eighth birthday. Money\u2019s been tight since Danny died, so I kept it small. Homemade chocolate cake, balloons, pizza, family only. I invited Donna and Danny\u2019s dad, Frank, because Eli loves his grandpa. Frank is a quiet man, a retired machinist who barely says ten words at a family dinner. But he always gets down on the floor and plays Legos with Eli.Family cruise planning<\/p>\n
Scott and his wife brought Tyler.<\/p>\n
When it was time for presents, Donna made a production of it.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Tyler, honey, this one\u2019s for you,\u201d she said, and handed Tyler an enormous box. It was a brand-new video game console. Five hundred dollars, easily.<\/p>\n
At my son\u2019s birthday party. For his cousin.Plan a Birthday<\/p>\n
\u201cTyler\u2019s report card was all A\u2019s,\u201d Donna explained to the room. \u201cHe deserves a reward.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eli watched Tyler tear into the box. He didn\u2019t say anything. He\u2019s gotten very good at not saying anything around his grandmother.<\/p>\n
Then Donna reached into her purse and pulled out something flat, wrapped in newspaper. Not even wrapping paper. The Sunday sports section.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd this is for the birthday boy,\u201d she said.Plan a Birthday<\/p>\n
Eli unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a book. An old hardcover with a faded green cloth cover, the corners soft and frayed, the spine cracked. Treasure Island.<\/p>\n
Eli held it up and tried to smile. \u201cThank you, Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s used,\u201d Donna said, loud enough for everyone to hear. \u201cI found it in a box in the attic. I figured, since that\u2019s what he\u2019s used to. Hand-me-downs.\u201d<\/p>\n
Scott\u2019s wife actually laughed.<\/p>\n
I felt my face go hot. I opened my mouth to say something I would have regretted.<\/p>\n
But before I could, Frank put down his plate.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t said a word all afternoon. He got up from his chair, walked around the table, and put one big hand on Eli\u2019s shoulder. He was looking at the book with the strangest expression on his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cEli,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cTurn to page 112.\u201d<\/p>\n
Donna\u2019s head snapped toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrank, what are you\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPage 112, buddy,\u201d Frank repeated, not looking at her.<\/p>\n
Eli flipped through the yellowed pages. When he got to 112, the book fell open on its own, because something had been tucked there for a very long time.<\/p>\n
A folded piece of lined paper. And underneath it, a stiff envelope with a bank\u2019s logo in the corner.<\/p>\n
Donna went completely white.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrank,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n
Frank didn\u2019t answer her. He knelt down next to Eli\u2019s chair, which I\u2019d never seen him do with his bad knees.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat book was your daddy\u2019s,\u201d he said. \u201cIt was his favorite when he was your age. He read it so many times the cover fell off and I glued it back on.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eli looked down at the book like it had suddenly turned to gold.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour grandma went up in the attic last week looking for something old to give you,\u201d Frank said. \u201cShe thought it was just junk. She didn\u2019t recognize it. But I did.\u201d<\/p>\n
He unfolded the lined paper and handed it to me, because Eli\u2019s hands were shaking.<\/p>\n
It was a letter. In a child\u2019s handwriting. Pencil, big loopy letters.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Future Me. I am 12. When I grow up I am going to have a kid and I am going to read him Treasure Island and we are going to be pirates. Do not forget. Love, Danny.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had to put my hand over my mouth.<\/p>\n
Danny had written a letter to his future self, tucked it in his favorite book, and forgotten about it. It had been sitting in a box in his parents\u2019 attic for twenty-five years.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found it when I saw her wrapping the book,\u201d Frank said. \u201cI sat in the garage and read it about fifty times.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he nodded at the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe other thing is from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside was a statement for a college savings account. The beneficiary was Eli Daniel Brooks.<\/p>\n
The balance was sixty-two thousand dollars.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrank,\u201d Donna said. Her voice was barely a whisper now. \u201cWhere did that money come from?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI sold the boat,\u201d Frank said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me you sold the boat to pay off the camper.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI lied to you, Donna.\u201d He stood up slowly. \u201cFirst time in forty-one years.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room was dead silent. Tyler had stopped playing with his console.<\/p>\n
Frank turned and looked at his wife, and I saw something in his face I\u2019d never seen before. Anger. Quiet, old, patient anger.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwo years,\u201d he said. \u201cTwo years I\u2019ve watched you treat our son\u2019s boy like he\u2019s a stranger. Like he\u2019s a charity case. Our Danny\u2019s boy. I watched you give Tyler a brand-new bike last Christmas and hand Eli a card. I\u2019ve watched you make his mother feel like dirt at every dinner.\u201dTrack Pregnancy<\/p>\n
\u201cFrank, I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI kept quiet because I\u2019m a coward, and because I figured you\u2019d come around. You didn\u2019t. So I did something about it.\u201d He looked at the book in Eli\u2019s lap. \u201cAnd then you wrapped up our son\u2019s favorite book in the sports section and called it a hand-me-down. At his son\u2019s birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n
Donna started to cry. Not loud. Just tears running down her face, her hands clasped in her lap.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know it was his,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI didn\u2019t recognize it. Oh my God. I didn\u2019t recognize it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d Frank said. \u201cThat\u2019s the problem, Donna. You stopped looking.\u201d<\/p>\n
Scott quietly gathered up his family and left a few minutes later. Donna went out to sit in the car.Family cruise planning<\/p>\n
Frank stayed.<\/p>\n
He stayed until the sun went down. He sat on the couch with Eli tucked against his side and read the first three chapters of Treasure Island out loud, doing all the pirate voices. I hadn\u2019t heard Eli laugh like that since before the accident.<\/p>\n
Donna called me four days later. She asked if she could come over. Alone.<\/p>\n
I almost said no.<\/p>\n
She sat at my kitchen table and cried and apologized for two hours. She said that after Danny died, every time she looked at Eli she saw her son, and it hurt so much that it was easier to look away. And she\u2019d been looking away for so long, it had turned into something ugly that she didn\u2019t recognize in herself.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know if I\u2019ve forgiven her yet. But I\u2019m trying. She\u2019s trying too. She takes Eli to the library every Thursday now. She lets him pick whatever he wants.<\/p>\n
Frank and Eli finished Treasure Island in three weeks. Then they started over.<\/p>\n
Danny\u2019s letter is in a frame on Eli\u2019s nightstand.<\/p>\n
Last night, I peeked into his room and found him asleep with the book on his chest, open to page 112.<\/p>\n
Danny didn\u2019t get to read it to his son.<\/p>\n
But in a way, I think he did.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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