Page 117 of Close Match

Montague

March

It’s been sixty-three days since I’ve been here. I got a new letter from Mom today. She said she got to see Linnie perform on stage in this new Off Broadway show and is brilliant at it. I’m so fucking proud of her, I can hardly contain it. I can also barely stand the fact I’m not by her side watching it happen.

Nothing is holding this woman back except maybe the albatross of love.

I’m sitting outside of Victor’s office waiting for our daily session when one of the framed quotations catches my eye. Standing, I move toward it slowly. “The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them,” I murmur.

“Ida B. Wells,” Victor says behind me. “An investigative journalist and an early leader in the civil rights movement. She was also one of the founders of the NAACP.”

I remain as still as a statue staring at the beauty and simplicity of her words. My hand slips into my pocket, fingering the letter I wrote in the middle of the night.

It’s time to let her go. To be free to soar the way I know she did before she ever met me.

Turning, with tears burning in my eyes, I say, “Sometimes, the only way to right your wrongs is to just to own up to them and to let go.” Pulling out the letter, I slap it into Victor’s hands before I sidestep him and make my way into his office.

Seventy-Three

Evangeline

“Iwish you had told me about reading these, Linnie.” My psychologist, Dr. Audrey Gilbride, strokes her hands over the leather-bound volumes on her lap.

“Would you have tried to stop me?”

“Stop is the wrong word. I would have tried to prepare you.”

I get more comfortable on the oversized sofa in her office. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother had a disease. It would randomly manifest itself. Before she chose to stay sober, there were times when she was extraordinarily high functioning, much like what you experienced with Monty at the very end. It’s how you recognized he needed help versus prosecution.” Waiting for my slight acknowledgment, she continues. “But she persistently poisoned her body. Yes, you loved her, and you forged this incredible bond, but you forget about the woman who wrote these words—” Audrey lifts the volume that’s been like a persistent point of a knife in my heart. “—isn’t the woman who cried when you graduated from college. She isn’t the woman who sang on stage with you. It’s like comparing an infant to an adult in terms of understanding that it’s two different people, but they live in the same body.”

I don’t respond right away. Instead, I turn and flop back on the couch so my head is facing the ceiling. There’s a poster Audrey tacked up there that says, “If you think you’ve got problems, imagine dealing with our shit.” And it’s the faces of hundreds of adorable puppies. Every time I see it, I can’t help but smile, which was her intent. “This is better than the poster at my gyno’s office.”

“What do they have?” she asks curiously.

“A poster that says, ‘A kiss makes everything better’ with a bunch of babies.” Audrey’s laugh bounces off all the walls of the room. “What would you suggest?”

“Parse out reading them,” she says immediately. “Take a pulse of your mood. Texting your therapist when something like this bothers you.”

I roll my head in her direction. “Oh, you mean being logical?”

“Crazy, I know.” We both smile.

“Would you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

Reaching down, I pull out the next journal in the series. “Read this. Let me know if I should go on. Right now, if it’s more of what I just dealt with, I…can’t.”

Audrey takes the volume from me and places it on top of the others. “I will. In the meantime, I have something for you. I’ve been briefed about it and, I’ve been waiting to give it to you.” Standing, she walks over to her desk, where she places Mom’s journals on the corner. She lifts a manila envelope with my name scribbled on the outside in an unfamiliar hand. Sitting up, I reach for it when she hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I weigh the large envelope in my hand and hear a smaller weight shift back and forth.

“A letter.” My face must be filled with confusion because Audrey continues. “From Monty.”

Maybe it’s just me, but the envelope seems to make a racket in the room as it shakes in my hand. “Do you know what’s in this?” My voice is a harsh rasp.

Audrey shakes her head. “Dr. Riley read it; he’s required to. In case there are threats they have to negate.” Even if the idea of someone reading Monty’s words to me initially shocks me, I understand that. “Once it cleared that check at his facility, I’m only briefed on the general contents so I can help you work through any issues.”