It does not make bruises less purple.
It does not convert control into concern.
Adrian wrote me one letter after the divorce became final.
Rebecca asked whether I wanted it.
I said no.
Then I changed my mind.
The envelope remained unopened for four days.
When I finally read it, there were no excuses.
No attack on Victoria.
No request for money.
He wrote:
The first time I saw you, I already knew too much about you.
The second time, I wanted to know things my mother hadn’t told me.
By the third date, I was terrified because I understood that someday I would have to tell you how the first one happened.
I kept waiting for a perfect moment.
Then waiting became lying.
Lying became protecting the lie.
And eventually I became someone who thought protecting what I wanted mattered more than protecting you.
What I did to you that night has no excuse.
