Chapter 24 - The Note
At seventeen, Mia asked to read the note.
The original had been evidence until criminal case closed, then returned.
I had sealed it in our legal file.
For eleven years, I never showed her.
She knew what it said generally.
Now she wanted exact.
We sat at kitchen table.
She unfolded.
Read silently.
Her face changed at:
Don’t call your mother unless there is a real emergency because she will make a big deal out of nothing.
She looked at me.
“I did call.”
“Yes.”
“Was it a real emergency?”
“Yes.”
She smiled slightly.
“Guess she was wrong.”
Then she read:
We will be back Sunday.
Mia stared.
“I would’ve been there six days.”
“That was plan.”
“Did they think I could cook?”
“Microwave.”
“I set off smoke detector making popcorn last week.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed.
Then cried.
I moved closer.
She let me hold her.
After:
“Can I keep note?”
“Yes.”
She tore it in half.
Then quarters.
Then smaller.
Dropped into recycling.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I know what happened. I don’t need Grandma’s handwriting to prove it.”
May you like
That was healthy.
At least I hoped.
