Page 38 of I Do, or Dye Trying

“I’ll grab beers,” I said. “Do we need snacks too?”

“I just need you.”

I stopped in my tracks and returned to him. “I’m right here, Gabe.”

IBLEW OUT Ashaky breath as Josh sat beside me on the couch. I had no reason to be so nervous; nothing in the letter would change who I was, who I loved, or who loved me. I would still be Al and Martina’s son, Josh’s fiancé, and a detective for the Blissville Police Department. My parents would still be thrilled that I was marrying the love of my life, Josh would still look at me as if I was the one who created the sun, moon, and stars, and Adrian would be there to razz me over every little thing. Opening the letter shouldn’t change anything, yet, it could change everything.

What if my biological father was a bad person? My parents had told me on more than one occasion that my birth mother had been a lively, sweet young lady. They had known her family well, but they knew nothing of the birth father. What if I had been the result of the worst thing that ever happened to her? Were the sins of the father passed onto the son? In my mind, I knew that was total bullshit. I had lived a good life and was proud of the person I was; I had no legitimate reason to be worried about the secrets the envelope held. But I was.

“You sure we don’t need a snack or something?” Josh asked after I sat staring at the envelope. “I’m home later than normal, and I know how you get when your blood sugar gets too low.” He made a growling noise in his throat. It was the humorous jerk back to reality that I needed.

“That’s all you, Sunshine. Would you like me to get you a snack or did you grab a bite to eat on the way home?” It was well past our normal dinner hour, but nothing had been normal for us once we started renovations on the new place.

“I had a late lunch,” he explained then nodded to the envelope. “I’ll make you a croque monsieur after you finish reading the letter.”Oh man, he was playing dirty.He knew I couldn’t resist that fancy French toasted ham and cheese sandwich.

“Two of them,” I bartered. The letter was serious shit, and although I might be damning my cholesterol level to hell, I could use some comfort food. Funny how plain-ass grilled cheese used to be enough. Not once Josh got ahold of me.

“Deal,” he said happily. Then the expression in his hazel eyes turned serious. “Nothing in that letter changes who you are to me or anyone else who loves you. You’re still going to become the most amazing husband to me and father to our children. Now,” he nodded to the envelope again, “let’s do this.”

I nodded because my throat was clogged with too much emotion to speak right then. I blew out one last shaky breath then opened the envelope. I pulled the folded letter out and looked at it for a few heartbeats before I opened it.Here we go,I had thought to myself before I let my eyes focus on the words handwritten on the page.

Gabriel,

I have written similar letters to the one you’re holding hundreds of times over the last thirty-six years. I always weighed my need to know who you’ve become against your need to live a life that was unburdened by my guilt for giving you up. I wrote you a letter every holiday, birthday, and whenever the pain of failure got to be too much. Once I finished, I tucked the unsent letters away in a box because I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out.

It has taken me many years, and quite a bit of therapy, to get to the point where I can acknowledge that I had no reason to feel guilty. I was a seventeen-year-old girl who knew nothing about raising a child, but I knew that Al and Martina Wyatt would give you an amazing life filled with love.

Now my only regret is that I never held you at least once. The nurses and my parents worried that it would’ve been too hard for me and so you were whisked away before I even saw you. I heard your first cry though. You sounded healthy, strong, and a little angry at being removed from your warm, dark cocoon. There was only one stipulation I had with your adoption, and your parents readily agreed—your first name.

Gabriel was the name of my grandfather and the best man I had ever known. I was sure that having his name would give you strength, courage, and the discipline to do what was right when life tested you. Even though I don’t know anything about you, I’m positive it worked. I feel it in my heart.

I also wanted to assure you that you were conceived in love, even if it was the misguided youthful kind. Gabriel, giving you up for adoption was an act of love, not regret. My relationship with your father didn’t last very long, but I can assure you he was a good guy. I thought it was important for you to know that.

My family relocated not long after you were born. At the time, it felt like they were ashamed of me but I later realized they thought it was best for me to have a fresh start. To them, we moved to a new state, new home, new school and that closed the door on our old life in Miami, but that isn’t how the heart or brain works.

I thought they were ashamed of me, so I was ashamed of myself and told no one about you. I kept my letters to you hidden from my parents first, then my college roommates, and later, the man I married. Last year, my husband found the stash of letters addressed to you when we moved to our new house. He was shocked I had kept your existence a secret from him but understood why. He urged me to talk to a therapist and to find you when I was ready.

I am ready. My name is Bonita Gutierrez and I’m a teacher, wife, and a mother. Part of my therapy was coming clean to my children that they had an older brother walking this earth. They were shocked and then thrilled. I am not saying this to put any pressure on you at all, but you have three sisters who would love to meet you if that is something that you want. I thwarted their attempts to put pictures of themselves with this letter because you didn’t need the added pressure. They completely understand, as do I, if you’d rather just keep living life as you know it. There’s no wrong answer here, Gabriel. My contact number is included in the envelope if you ever want to reach out to me.

All my regards,

Bonita

I folded the letter and found a small piece of paper enclosed in the envelope. I smiled at the thought of my half-sisters trying to slip pictures of themselves inside. Josh cleared his throat, and I looked at him. It was so cute how hard he was struggling not to ask me a thousand questions. I handed the letter to him then went into the kitchen to get two beers.

“Wow,” Josh said once he was through reading it. “What are you going to do?”

The letter was touching, and it nearly moved me to tears, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. On the one hand, I was curious as hell to know about my sisters, but I didn’t know what all that curiosity entailed. I did know that it was cruel to make Bonita wait another day. I couldn’t imagine writing a heartfelt letter like she did then just sit and wait for a call that might not ever come. I was sure the PI she hired informed her that he delivered the letter to me as soon as he completed his task.

Guilt burned inside me like I had a stomach full of gasoline and had just swallowed a match. I figured the guilt I felt from making Bonita wait two weeks was a fraction of what she felt for more than three decades. So, even though I didn’t know what, if anything, I wanted from her, I knew what I wouldn’t do, which was make her suffer another day of waiting.

“Well, I’m going to call and thank her for the letter while you make my fancy grilled cheese sandwiches with extra cheese.” The smile I gave him was as cheesy as I liked my sandwiches. “I don’t know what I’m going to say yet, but I know I need to say something.”

“I love you, Gabe.” Josh laid the letter on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “You birds be quiet while Big Daddy talks on the phone.”

“Big Daddy!” both birds repeated before they went back to staring each other down. Savage was still doing his “mating dance” as Josh called it.

I took a swig of liquid courage from the bottle and dialed the number on the piece of paper inside the envelope. My knees bounced nervously while I waited for Bonita to answer or her voicemail message to play. I was so used to people not answering their phone that it surprised me when she answered hers on the fourth ring.