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“Eat.” He points at all the food. And we eat.

* * *

We sit across the cleared table, the uneaten food packed in a brown paper bag on the seat next to me. I have enough leftovers to feast on for the next few days. The only things left on the table are two water glasses, condensation building on the sides.

I know my father waited until we were done with our meal to talk again. His eyes meet mine now.

“The whole family wants to meet you. Not only us, but your grandparents too.”

“My grandparents?” Vivid images of all the pictures of his parents he showed me come to mind. My grandmother's kind face, my grandfather's mischievous smile.

“Yes, them too. Linda wants you to come for Thanksgiving. I know that might be too much for you. Too many new people, too much extended family. You’re welcome to come to Thanksgiving, or we can meet the day after if you prefer, just the five of us.”

“I don't know what to say.” I can’t believe they want to meet me.

“Say yes. We are your family. It’s way overdue that I have all of my kids together.”

I want to say yes. I want to say yes so badly. But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know about all the terrible choices I made. I’m toxic. I’ll drag them down. I can’t do that to them. I can’t tarnish their family with my bitterness and all my dirty secrets.

I shake my head. His hands come up to stop me. “Wait.” He grabs his phone and opens the photo app. The first thing I see is the smiling faces of two kids. A girl with brown hair and the same color eyes as me. The boy has white-blond hair and aqua-blue eyes. My sister and brother. They’re beautiful and happy and innocent.

He taps the screen. “This is Mara. She’s nine going on thirty. She thinks she’s an adult and tries to boss everyone around. She’s ecstatic to have a big sister. Since the moment we told them, she’s been talking nonstop about meeting you and having girl time.” He swipes to the next picture. The face of a boy fills the screen. His hair is long, reaching his shoulders and curling at the ends. He looks angelic. “Don’t let the angel face fool you. He’s a master manipulator. He gets you with that sweet smile and huge eyes. We call him our little heartbreaker.” There’s so much love and pride in his voice. He swipes again. Another picture of the two of them together. In PJs this time, sitting on a large bed, books all around them.

My heart fills with something I have never felt before. Not like this. I’m bursting with a love so fierce I know I would do anything to protect them. To keep them innocent and clean. To leave them untouched by the ugly in the world. To keep them from being tarnished by me.

A cry bursts from me, and the need to run overwhelms me. “I can’t.” I try to get up, but the bag of food blocks my way out.

“Becca.” The quiet in his voice stops me.

I look at him. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. My name written on it with a bright pink crayon in the sloppy handwriting of a child. “Mara wrote you a letter. I have no idea what it says. She sealed the envelope and told us we couldn’t read it.” He stretches his arm across the table. “Please?” All the joy is gone from his face, replaced with such a sadness, it wets his eyes. I did that. I turned his joy into sorrow. That’s what I do.

I take the envelope with a shaky hand, move the bag of food. Get up.

“Take the food with you. Michael made it for you.” He nods at the food with a watery smile. I take the food and leave.

Chapter Twenty

I don't even rememberthe drive back to my dorm room. I left the restaurant and my father behind, but I couldn’t leave all that weighs me down behind with him. Shame and regret follows me like a faithful, unwanted dog. The letter is burning a hole through my back pocket, but instead of reading it, I make space in my mini fridge by taking out water bottles and replacing them with the food. I fold laundry, dust my desk, and sweep the floor. All to buy myself another thirty minutes, but I can delay it no longer.

My hands shake when I pull the envelope out of my pocket and unfold it. I sit on my bed and smooth it against the mattress. Crayon drawings of pink flowers with yellow centers cover the envelope. My name is written in a childish calligraphy in the middle. I flip it over. On the back, a drawing of a unicorn, and her name, Mara, written inside a heart. On the corner, in a smaller writing, it says plus Hunter. My sister and brother.

I let the letter drop to my bed, grab my laptop and turn it on, going to the support website now so familiar to me, but Therapist11 is not available. I knew he wouldn't be. He’s never available during the day.

God, how did I come to rely on him so fast? I don't know if this is good or bad, but talking to him centers me. Talking to him helps me get out of my head and see things with more clarity. I close my laptop again, sit back on the bed, cross my legs, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“It's just a letter. It's just a letter from a kid. There's nothing in this envelope that can hurt you, Becca.” Why does my heart feel so small, then?

I take a breath and hold, release it. Do it again.

My hands shake when I slide a finger under the fold and carefully open the envelope so as not to rip it. I stop. Close my eyes. Take another measured breath. Then I slide out two sheets of paper. Unfold them.

My eyes track the childish handwriting without reading the words on the lined paper. There are little doodles all around the margins—flowers, butterflies, hearts, and stars all done in different-colored pencils.

I am not ready to read it, but I do it anyway. I can’t delay myself any longer.

Dear big sister Becca,

I'm so happy to know I have a big sister. I've always wanted a big sister.