“How could I tell her?” I say between sobs as I hand Trish, Macys letter to her father.
“You just have to be strong,” she says without looking up. “I know it’s hard but how long did you think you could keep this… this lie going?”
“I don’t know. I—“
“I mean, why would you lie to this extreme? You’re fooling her and it’ll kill her if she finds out the truth. Why didn’t you come to me and talk about it? I’ve known you my entire life. We’re supposed to be able to discuss these things.”
I can feel my face heating up. How could she not be sympathetic? “I’m trying to protect her, Trish. You know that.”
“She’s your daughter. She needs to know. She deserves–“
“I don’t want her to hurt like I hurt everyday, Trish. I don’t want her to wake up every morning wondering why her father left us like that. Wondering why he couldn’t talk to us about his problems. He was my best friend and I still don’t understand why he did it. I can still see the images in my head, Trish. All the blood. I can still see it. And it’s never going to go away. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like. The pain I feel inside is something that no one should ever have to go through. You don’t even know what it’s like to lose a fucking pet. So don’t tell me how the hell I should handle this situation when you have no clue.”
The water rises in her eyes, and the tears began to fall. She looks up at me and slowly shakes her head. We sit there in silence as the waiter brings us more coffee.
“So you’re never going to tell her?” She says.
“No. It’s her birthday today.”
“What about the letter?”
I look up at her questioning if those words actually came from her mouth. “What about it?” My tone is sharp.
“I mean—“
“Its still in your safe box isn’t it?”
She hesitates before answering. “Yes, but like, are you ever going to…”
“To what?” I say losing patience. “If you’re asking me to show my daughter a suicide note from her own father, your fucking crazy.”
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