The World is Ugly, but You are Beautiful to Me

Chapter 19

I hop off of the bus, glad to get away from the school. After lunch, everyone has said happy birthday to me. I honestly don't understand. If I "hang out" with the popular guys, everyone immediately hates me. But if a popular girl invites me out for one night, it's like I've earned respect. It makes no sense, especially since Chelsea is the one who should be least respected.

I kick at some rocks on the sidewalk that leads up to my house. Before I walk inside, my eyes wander to the rusted mailbox stationed on the curb. I curiously open it, just incase someone actually did decide to mail me something for my birthday. I'm afraid that if I don't check now, my mom will and throw out whatever it was or keep it for herself. That's just how she is these days.

I pull down on the notch at the front to reveal an almost empty box. Almost. There is one letter laying on the bottom. I snatch it and see my name and address scrawled on the front. I don't bother to read the return address, I just tear open the back and pull out a folded piece of lined paper. I quickly run to my bedroom and smooth out the letter on my desk.

There's a staple in the right corner, binding together three papers. My eyes scan over the worn out page, observing the hastily inked words. My eyebrows furrow together. This doesn't seem like a birthday card.

I shrug and begin to read it:

Katharine,

Before you read this, I want you to know that this letter is illegal, so you better not show this to anyone. Don't be scared though. Now I probably sound like a murderer. Sorry.

Anyways, this is only illegal because I'm not legally allowed to speak to you until you turn 18. But, in my opinion, 17 is close enough. This way I can be sure that you get this letter and you haven't already moved away.

I'm sure your mother hasn't told you this, but the only reason why I haven't wished you a Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday before this is because I'm restricted from having any contact with you. (By the way, happy birthday.) You didn't do anything. I don't really know what I did either. Okay, well, I know I did horrible things but I didn't do anything illegal. Your mother probably tells you that I left you. I'm sure of it. But that's not what actually happened. So I'm writing this letter so that you know the true story. I'm writing this letter to explain myself to you. I'm not necessarily asking for your forgiveness, because I don't want to pressure you. But I just want you to know.

It started with me. It was my fault. I cheated on your mother with a woman whom I couldn't help not having feelings for. I know, I know, it's terrible. I'm a terrible person. But I just was sick of doing everything that my brain was saying. I just wanted to listen to my heart for once. Anyways, your mom found out and kicked me out. We got a divorce, and she filed a restraint between you two and me. And that restraint is what makes this letter illegal. The restraint between your mother and I only lasted for five years, so I can talk to her. But ours lasts until you are an adult, since that is when you can make decisions for yourself.

After the divorce, I moved to America. I actually have a decent life. I have a good job. It's just that I have no one to share my success with. I'm so lonely.

I understand if you hate me. I understand if you don't write back. I understand if you don't want to talk to me when you turn 18. It's okay. I messed up. Big time.

Just know that I love you. I always have. And know that I am so so sorry. I would do anything to erase everything that happened and go back to living with you and your mother. Have a great birthday, and please don't think too much about me. I don't want to make anything worse.

I'm sorry,

Dad

My shaking hands drop the papers, and they flutter to the floor. My heart is pounding, my mouth is dry, and tears are leaking from my eyes. I thought my dad was dead. Do you know how horrible that made me feel? Do you know how much it hurts to have someone you love more than anything die? Of course I'm happy that he's alive, but it hurts me even more that my mum lied to me about it. I'm in shock, worry, anger. I can't pull out any specific emotions and it's too much. 

I refold the letter and bury it inside my drawr so that no one can find it. 

I then take out my own paper and begin to write.

I don't know what to say. I didn't know any of this. Thank you for telling me. My mum told me you were dead. I'm in shock and I just don't know what to do. I can't stand living with her. I was actually planning on going to collage in America. I don't know, though. 

I toss the pen on the desk. I don't know what to write. I snatch the partial letter and shove it in my drawr along with the other one. I lay my head back on my chair, taking deep breathes. I'm so confused and overwhelmed.

Unexpectedly, my mum calls my name. Her voice is too sweet and she's most likely figured out that I went through the mail.

Shit.