Chapter 4
That evening, I sat beside Aunt Nia while Dad watched the recording from my tablet.
I didn't want to see it.
I didn't want to hear the clippers again.
So he asked me to stay in the guest bedroom.
Aunt Nia read me a story.
But I could hear voices coming from the hallway.
Dad sounded angry.
Rachel sounded serious.
Then someone knocked.
Aunt Nia opened the door.
It was Dad.
His face looked pale.
He sat beside me.
"Lily, I need to ask you something."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"Did Vanessa ever cut your hair before today?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He swallowed.
"Did she ever threaten to?"
I looked down.
"Sometimes."
His expression changed.
"What did she say?"
I touched my headband.
"She said Mommy's hair made me look wild."
Aunt Nia closed her eyes.
I continued.
"She said nice little girls don't look like that."
Dad's face tightened.
I began crying.
"I tried to be nice."
He pulled me close.
"You are nice."
I shook my head.
"She said I wasn't."
Dad kissed my forehead.
"Vanessa was wrong."
For a long time, he held me.
Then he whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't notice."
I looked up.
"Notice what?"
"That she was hurting your feelings."
I thought about that.
Then asked, "Will you believe me next time?"
His eyes filled.
"Yes."
I hugged him.
"Okay."
Later, Aunt Nia took me to her house.
Dad wanted me somewhere peaceful while he dealt with Vanessa.
I didn't argue.
I was tired.
My head felt strange.
My eyes hurt from crying.
And I wanted to sleep somewhere Vanessa couldn't find me.
Aunt Nia's house smelled like cinnamon.
She made hot chocolate.
Then showed me the guest bedroom.
There were soft blankets and a little lamp shaped like a moon.
I climbed into bed.
She sat beside me.
"Do you want to talk?"
I shook my head.
She smiled.
"That's okay."
Then I whispered, "Aunt Nia?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Did Mommy know she was going to die?"
My aunt became quiet.
For a moment, she looked sad.
Then she nodded gently.
"She knew she was very sick."
I swallowed.
"Was she scared?"
Aunt Nia took my hand.
"Sometimes."
I looked toward the lamp.
"Was she scared about leaving me?"
My aunt's eyes filled.
"She worried because she loved you so much."
I began crying.
"Then why did she write letters?"
Aunt Nia squeezed my hand.
"Because she wanted you to keep hearing her words as you grew."
I touched my headband.
"Even when my hair looks different?"
She smiled through tears.
"Especially then."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since Vanessa grabbed me, I slept without crying.
The next morning, Dad came over.
He looked exhausted.
He had spent the night reviewing records with Rachel.
I ran toward him.
"Daddy!"
He lifted me into his arms.
"Hey, sweetheart."
I hugged him tightly.
"Did you get Mommy's letters?"
He shook his head gently.
"Not yet."
My heart sank.
Then he continued.
"But we found the storage unit."
I looked up.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I smiled.
Then noticed something.
Dad wasn't wearing his wedding ring.
I stared at his hand.
"Where's your ring?"
He looked down.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then he knelt beside me.
"Lily, Vanessa and I are going to live separately."
My stomach tightened.
"Because of me?"
His face changed immediately.
"No."
I began crying.
"But she was mad at me."
Dad held my shoulders gently.
"Listen carefully."
I looked at him.
"Adults are responsible for their own choices."
I nodded slowly.
"What Vanessa did was wrong. You didn't cause it."
My tears kept falling.
Dad hugged me.
"You don't have to fix my marriage."
I held him tightly.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, "Your job is to be a kid."
I nodded.
"Okay."
That afternoon, Aunt Nia took me to a child counselor named Dr. Olivia Brooks.
She had a room filled with books, crayons, and soft toys.
At first, I didn't want to talk.
Dr. Brooks didn't make me.
She invited me to draw.
I drew a little girl with long hair.
Then a little girl with half her hair missing.
Then I drew a big black cloud.
Dr. Brooks looked at the pictures.
"Can you tell me about the cloud?"
I shook my head.
She waited.
Then I whispered, "It's Vanessa."
Dr. Brooks nodded.
"That sounds frightening."
I looked down.
"She got mad when I talked about Mommy."
Dr. Brooks listened.
I continued.
"She said I should stop remembering her."
My throat tightened.
Then I whispered, "But I don't want to forget."
Dr. Brooks smiled gently.
"You don't have to."
I looked up.
"Really?"
"Really."
For the first time, I felt like somebody understood exactly what I was afraid of.
Then Dad called Aunt Nia.
I saw her expression change while she listened.
When she ended the call, she sat beside me.
"Lily, your dad found the memory box."
My heart jumped.
"Did he find my letters?"
She hesitated.
"Some of them."
I frowned.
"Some?"
Aunt Nia looked sad.
"He's still checking everything."
I began trembling.
Then she took my hand.
"Sweetheart, there's something important."
I looked up.
"Your mother wrote twelve letters."
My heart stopped.
Twelve.
One for each birthday from age six through seventeen.
I stared at her.
"Where are they?"
Aunt Nia swallowed.
"Your dad found only four."
May you like
My chest tightened.
Then she whispered, "And one of the missing letters was supposed to be read tonight."
