Page 123 of I Hope This Finds You Well

I laugh, but a sob presses through. Because my god. “Yeah. If you change the venue of the Monday aunty dinner, I’ll even come to that.”

“Why change? That’s the best kabob.”

“The waiter rejected me, and I’m humiliated.”

“Pssh.” She shakes her head. “I found out he’s not very nice to his mom and he thinks with his kir. Good thing I stopped that before it got serious.”

After we clean our faces, she grabs her purse and heads to the door. “I need to go cancel more party things. I might need to threaten Hassan for my deposit. He’s always ugly about these things.” And she’s muttering curses in Farsi. Hassan the baker is now comparable to a donkey’s dong it seems—a far fall from grace.

After she leaves, I’m not as settled as I’d like. One niggling thought keeps eating at me.

Before I think too hard, I send the text.

Would you like to have lunch, just us, next week?

As soon as it’s marked delivered, I stop breathing. But the answer doesn’t come. I need to unsend. I want to throw my phone into a garbage can and forget I ever sent it.

Ding.

The relief is too much.

Dad:Yes, that sounds good! I’ll pick you up.

My eyes well up, but I’m smiling.

Small Talk

I’ve compiled an embarrassing amount of recycling after finishing the last of my apartment clear-out. It took me four whole days, but I’ll never get off track again, maybe. It’s when I’m gathering all the old mail—some realtor flyers from those delusional enough to send them to us and menus from restaurants that seem heartbreakingly desperate—that I spot the letters Cliff left, and my stomach flips.

I pick the first one up and recognize Rhonda’s handwriting immediately.

Honey,

First, I’m sorry about the way things happened on your last day. When I heard the mutterings you’d been spying on us, I was so miffed. I had some big secrets you were seeing and that wasn’t okay. But one thing I’m good at is forgiveness and understanding desperate situations. That’s why I want you to know one thing: I was always proud of Carl, never ashamed. I just didn’t think the world would understand, so I did what a mom does, I protected him.

You were proving yourself to be a true friend during your last month, and I appreciate all the things you did to help me keep up with the office and the time you spent helping plan parties. My loneliness hurts me and even scares me at times. But it was worse knowing you saw that.

I have mixed feelings about what you’ve done. It’s complicated, but when I think of you, I remember that day in the bathroom. I remember you talking to me before Caitlin’s party, and I remember you inviting me to teach crochet.

You’re a kind person, Jolene.

We never know what somebody is going through and I’m no different. I never saw you, Armin, or even Caitlin how I should’ve.

Something I’ve been pondering since the day in the bathroom is: acceptance. I’m never going to have the life I thought I’d be living at my age, and the hardest thing I must face is that I might never see my son again. I might never see the person he was before he got sick.

But I can still have a life worth living. I can still hope my son heals. I can accept what has happened, but I don’t have to accept what will be. I’ve included my home phone number. I hope you reach out to this lonely lady when you’re ready.

More importantly, I hope you find your place in life. I know you can ;) (that means winking).

Rhonda

My throat squeezes, but I’m also smiling.

The next letter is from Armin.

Hey Jolene,

The first thing I should say is: sorry. I was a shit for getting mad at you after forcing you into my scheme and blaming you for selling the lie too well. I was not the ride-or-die cubicle mate turned fake fiancé I should’ve been, and for that I’ll never forgive myself.