A receipt for the winter coat.
Then I found an envelope dated nearly a year before our wedding.
Inside was a letter.
My hands shook so badly I could barely unfold it.
Michael believes I don’t understand why he stays.
My stomach turned.
I kept reading.
He watches my doctor appointments. He asks innocent questions about the house. He has begun looking at me the way frightened people sometimes look at locked doors—as though I might be the key to getting somewhere safer.
I stopped.
Caroline was staring at me.
I could not meet her eyes.
I forced myself to continue.
I should ask him to leave.
Perhaps a wiser woman would.
But I do not believe he is cruel. I think he is desperate, and desperation makes people confuse security with love.
My eyes burned.
The final lines were harder to read.
If he ever learns the difference, I hope I am still here to see it.
I pressed the letter to the table.
“Jesus.”
The attorney said nothing.
Neither did Caroline.
There were more envelopes.
One was dated the day after I proposed.
I almost could not open it.
Evelyn had written only a few paragraphs.
