Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT MY AUNT DISAPPEARED
Aunt Rachel had not disappeared because she was ashamed of having an affair with my father.
At least, not exactly.
That was the first thing Mom admitted when she came to our house that afternoon.
She arrived furious.
Then she saw Kayla’s packed suitcases beside the staircase.
Her anger turned into panic.
“You’re throwing her out?”
“I’m asking her to move somewhere else.”
“She has nowhere.”
“We’ll pay for a hotel for two weeks.”
Andrew added calmly:
“And I found a furnished apartment she can afford once she starts the new job she interviewed for.”
Mom stared at him.
“You’ve been planning this?”
“No.”
Andrew’s voice stayed even.
“I started planning it after your daughter sent me messages she knew were inappropriate.”
Kayla sat on the couch, silent.
Mom looked at her.
Then at me.
“You don’t understand what she’s been through.”
“Then explain it.”
Mom’s face hardened.
I sat across from her.
“Was Dad sleeping with Aunt Rachel?”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
Kayla flinched even though she already knew.
I swallowed.
“So what were you hiding?”
Mom rubbed her hands together.
“Rachel’s marriage was abusive.”
I remembered Uncle Pete vaguely.
Loud.
Controlling.
Always drinking.
Mom continued.
“Your father started helping her.”
“With what?”
“Money. Rides. A lawyer.”
“Then they fell in love?”
Mom’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know exactly when.”
“But they had an affair.”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
Dad had betrayed Mom.
Nothing erased that.
But the story had more pieces than the version we were given.
“Why did Aunt Rachel disappear?”
“Because Pete found out she was planning to leave.”
My chest tightened.
“She moved?”
“To Arizona.”
“Dad went with her?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“He stayed?”
“For you girls.”
Kayla stared at Mom.
“You told me he chose Rachel over us.”
Mom covered her face.
“He had already destroyed everything.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mom looked up slowly.
“No. He didn’t leave with Rachel.”
The room went silent.
I had spent nineteen years believing Dad abandoned us for another woman.
In reality, Mom filed for divorce and eventually received primary custody.
Dad moved into an apartment less than ten miles away.
“Why didn’t we see him more?” I asked.
Mom’s jaw tightened.
“He was ashamed.”
Kayla shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She stood.
“That’s not why.”
Mom’s face changed.
Kayla went upstairs.
Thirty seconds later, she returned carrying an old brown envelope.
I recognized Dad’s handwriting immediately.
He had always written my name with an oversized A.
AMANDA.
The envelope had never been opened.
I stared at Kayla.
“Where did you get that?”
“Mom’s garage.”
My mother went pale.
Kayla placed the envelope in my hands.
“There are twelve more.”
I looked at Mom.
She whispered:
“I was going to give them to you eventually.”
Dad had been dead eight years.
My hands started shaking.
I opened the first letter.
The date was seventeen years old.
Amanda,
I don’t know what your mother has told you, but I have called every Sunday for eleven weeks.
May you like
The next sentence shattered the version of my childhood I had believed.
She will not let me speak to you.
