Can't Forgive by Kim Goldman

Author:Kim Goldman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: BenBella Books, Inc.
Published: 2014-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

I fold it up, shove it into a pretty envelope, and address it. I write his name again on the front, but this time I can attach his inmate number.

Ha! He has an inmate number!

Suddenly it doesn’t seem that hard to write his name. I get to put him back in his place, back in his jail cell. I write my address on the back; that represents my freedom. Wow, this is powerful.

I stick the envelope in my bag and rush off to pick up Sam from school. I took so long with the letter, I am now late in picking him up. I promised Sam that I would take him for a special treat because he exceeded a reading goal for his second-grade class. I am so proud of him, and want to reward him. He asks to go to Menchie’s, which is our favorite self-serve frozen yogurt shop. I am happy to oblige, but I also know I have to get the letter in the mail before five o’clock for it to go out that day.

Sam sees the envelope sticking out of my bag and asks me what it is. Since he obviously can read now, I didn’t want him to see the front and ask who the letter is for. He doesn’t know the name of Uncle Ron’s killer, and I can’t do that on this day. I am too emotional. So I just say it is for work, and then distract him. He is obsessed with the flower on the envelope, so I show him the back side and then jam it back in my bag.

We sit for about thirty minutes, enjoying our time together. I am not going to lie; I am totally preoccupied with what I am minutes away from doing. As soon as Sam and I are done eating, we will head to the post office. I am committed to my plan, but I am worried that I will get derailed in the process. I hoped to drop it off before I got Sam. He deserves to have my undivided attention, but I am struggling.

It is strange to be counting down 300 seconds when the connection to the killer has ridden alongside me for nineteen years. It’s a part of my identity—whether I want it to be or not.

My life has always been about balance, and some days I am better at it than others. But when it comes to Sam, I worry that he gets cheated because I am juggling so many jobs, wearing so many hats, and experiencing so many emotions. I hope I don’t make him feel unimportant or that I don’t do a good enough job of having focused attention.

So I stop the movie playing in my head and look at my son across the table. He is stuffing his face silly with cookies-and-cream yogurt, with sprinkles and caramel. And I smile. This is what the healing process is all about for me: owning my life, my future, my process, my role in all of it.

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