Page 100 of Nicki's Fight
I am assuming that by now, you know that Willis Terhune is not your biological father. I could write pages about the wrongs that Will has done me, but I refuse to let him take up any more time in my thoughts or heart. Just know that there was a time when I genuinely thought we could build a life together. Will and I both made mistakes in our marriage, and I take responsibility for mine.
One of those mistakes I cannot bring myself to regret, though, because it brought me you. Your biological father is Alex Young. Rhiannon knows how to reach him, if you haven’t spoken to him yet. Alex is one of the best men I’ve ever known, and is the man I should have spent the rest of my life with. If only I hadn’t been so stupid and stubborn... I remember telling you once that people cheat for a variety reasons, and sometimes that reason is that they were never meant to be together in the first place. I feel that way about Willis. I should always have been with Alex. I never got to tell you about him, but I shared as much of him as I dared when I gave you your middle name. I hope you get a chance to know him and Marty. They have been incredibly kind to me, especially Marty. It takes an extremely gracious soul to allow a former love back into your partner’s life without being eaten alive by jealousy. What Alex and I had is in the past, but these two men have become my family, and I hope they can become a family for you, too.
Being your Mother is the single best thing I’ve done with my life. I always prided myself on my ability to convey emotion in words, but I love you so very much that they fail me now. Please promise me that you won’t let Will’s jealousy, hate and anger infect your soul. You have an incredibly sensitive heart. I am confident that you will follow your dreams and let love and light grow in your heart instead darkness and hate.
I have had the wonderful fortune to love you and have you in my life, Nicki, and for that I will be forever grateful.
All my love,
Mom
I ran my thumb over her name, the loops and whorls of her handwriting as familiar to me as my own. I gave up on trying to keep back the tears and let them roll down my cheeks unashamed.
She loved me. She forgave me. I sobbed and felt Kaine’s strong arms wrap around me once more. He turned me so that he could hold me tight, and the tears washed my soul as I finally let go of the agony, the terror, the soul-numbing guilt.
After a while, I looked up from the letter. “There’s… there’s something I wanted to give you,” Alex said, sliding a folder of papers to me. I glanced down at them, then back up. I felt Kaine’s hand at the small of my back, reassuring me, and I started turning over pages from the folder.
Inside were photos…of me. From the time I was fifteen until just about six months ago. Some were me at school, others outside our house. One was of me at work at the restaurant, tell-tale bruises peeking out of the collar of my shirt.
One photo was super grainy, like it had been enlarged repeatedly. It was a photo of my father heading toward the shed in our backyard. He had my arm in a vise-like grip as he dragged me across the yard, my reluctance apparent even in the still photo. Another photo followed it, taken a short while later, if the shadows showed the passage of time. It was a picture of him leaving the barn, peeling red-smeared gloves off his hands. The picture was dark, the only light coming from inside the barn. A shadow played on the one wall, a silhouette of me, hanging by my arms, clearly visible.
I didn’t recall that night in particular. It could have been any one of a hundred nights just like it. A drop of moisture fell on the photos and I hastily brushed it off. It took me a moment to realize it was my own tears.
“That’s how she knew,” he said, tapping the photo.
“Who…?” I asked, struggling to get the words out as I remembered the terror of those nights.
“I hired a private detective in Tampa to keep an eye on you. He sent us those only a few days before your mother died,” Alex said, his eyes grave.
“Did my father…Did he…?” I tried to ask but couldn’t get the words out. Alex seemed to understand anyway.
“As far as we can tell, he had nothing to do with your Mother’s death,” Alex said, his eyes narrowing. “It was…a tragic accident. An elderly gentleman with twenty-two DUI’s on his record went left of center and struck her car, killing them both instantly.”
I nodded, still trying to process everything. Somehow, knowing my Mom had died from a drunk driver was both better and worse than having her die from AIDS. Better in that it wasn’t a long wasting death. Worse in that it could have been prevented.
“I know it probably doesn’t matter to you right now, but we sued the driver’s estate on behalf of your Mom’s estate,” Alex said. “It will take a while, but you should see money from her estate. Enough to let you go to school or start a business. Whatever you want to do with your life.”
The thought of being able to go to school was a good one. One I knew my Mom would have loved. But he was right, money was thelastthing I was thinking of at that point.
“Did he…did he have a family?” I asked. Regardless of what he’d done, I couldn’t see taking away someone’s legacy from their kids.
“The driver?” Alex asked. I nodded.
“No. His first two wives had predeceased him, and he didn’t have any children,” he answered.
“Do you have any other questions for us, right now?” Marty asked.
“Where…where is my Mom buried?” I asked.
“She’s at Rose Park Cemetery,” Rhiannon answered. “I can take you there if you want.”
I nodded again. If I kept this up, I might as well be a bobble head doll. I shoved the inane thoughts down. It was all just…too much. Too much to take in, too much to process.
“I…I need some time. I need to try and figure all this…” I gestured at the file. “…out.”
It was their turn to nod. Kaine was still by my side, and Alex still sat there, tears running down his own face. He thrust a box of tissues at me and I took some thankfully. I tried to fix my face as much as possible, but I knew I was a mess.
“So…you’re my Dad, huh?” I asked, sniffling.