I waited.
“You had another choice,” she muttered.
“That part is true,” I admitted.
Grace whispered, “Do you wish you’d known?”
“Dad… Mom was right.”
I looked at all three of them.
“I wish she’d told me.”
Sophie’s face crumpled.
“You deserved the choice.”
“So did you.”
They went quiet.
I continued.
“I could’ve gone to Chicago.”
Emma started crying again.
“I could’ve let somebody else raise you.”
Grace looked away.
“You deserved the choice.”
“But that’s not the same thing as wishing I had.”
All three looked at me.
I leaned forward.
“Don’t confuse wanting the choice with wanting a different answer.”
Sophie broke first.
She grabbed me.
Grace followed.
Emma lasted another three seconds before throwing herself into the pile.
“Don’t confuse wanting the choice with wanting a different answer.”
I laughed into somebody’s hair.
“You three are crushing me.”
“Good,” Emma muttered.
Apparently revenge had finally arrived.
Back home, Mom’s letter remained on the kitchen counter.
I’d read every word.
I still didn’t have to give her the last one.
The girls disappeared into the spare room.
I’d read every word.
Then came crashing sounds.
“What are you doing?”
“No questions!” Sophie yelled.
A minute later, they marched back carrying three ugly plastic laundry baskets.
Faded marker still showed beneath the handles.
