Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(18)

Todd said nothing and I began to burn under his intense stare. “Well, for someone who claims to be better off, you’re awfully pissed.” Shrugging, he stood straight and reached into his pocket. “It’s none of my business, but I picked this up at the PO. I waited until you were ready to go off duty.” He tossed an envelope into my lap. Turning, he stopped and looked back. “I’ve seen men come here married and leave divorced. Seen some go home engaged and then come back alone.” Shaking his head, he added, “This place f*cks us all up eventually. If you need to talk, man, I’m here.” With that, I stared at his back as he walked out of the room, his heavy boots tapping out a pattern on the wooden floors.

Finally dropping my gaze to my lap, I picked up the envelope, three things hitting me all at once. It was from Molly. It had her prison return address. It was postmarked before I sent my blistering email. What the hell could she have to say to me? And why do I care?

My fingers shook as I opened the letter, uncertain why I felt kicked in the stomach. Grateful for the empty room, I pulled out the long missive.

Dear Brody,

This letter is long overdue but so necessary. As you can see from the return address, I am writing from a prison. Yes, I am an inmate, but please, for our friendship’s sake, allow me the chance to explain why I have not spoken of this before now. In fact, I’m going to tell you something that I have kept secret because I know I can trust you.

Until two years ago, my life was so normal. I worked, went to school part time, had friends, and my future appeared bright. Then my mom died of cancer. It was hard for my thirteen-year-old sister, but I helped my stepdad out as much as I could. He drank too much, but I thought everything was fine until a year ago.

I went over to visit and found him hurting my sister. I promised her that I would never tell what was happening, but it was horrible. I tried to push him away, but he swung at me. I grabbed a lamp from the end table and hit him in the back to keep him from hurting her more. He stumbled, fell, and hit his head. He died before the ambulance even got there.

Because I had caused his fall, I was charged with involuntary manslaughter. I have now found out that if I had consulted an attorney, and had proper representation, the charges would probably have been dropped. But I was na?ve and had no one to turn to. So I was given the lightest sentence of ten months in a minimum security facility.

I have a lot of freedom here…well, I suppose that word is not right. I have no freedom and won’t for three more months, but I am allowed to have some internet access and I was authorized to work in the library.

I love that part of each day. Surrounded by books…I can get lost in their stories, whether it’s mysteries, romance, thrillers, or even biographies. I used to have an e-reader, but can’t have it with me in here. But I have rediscovered the wonderful feeling of holding a book, the words pouring out in front of me as I turn the pages. I want to thank you because, with your friendship, I have found even more pleasure in the written word.

I see a social worker, who encouraged my Books For Soldiers project and even to correspond with you. She knows a lot of my story and wants me to realize that while I made a fateful decision a year ago, I cannot let my incarceration define who I am. And you are helping me with that as well. I’m still Molly…student, reader, friend. I still have a lot to offer the world.

My sister’s foster mom came to see me and it appears that my sister is seeing a counselor and may be getting to the place where she can also talk about what our stepfather had been doing to her. I pray for that, because honestly, she needs healing more than I do.

I have loved our correspondence…it has truly meant the world to me. And I pray that our friendship doesn’t end from my confession to you. I know that the war has been so difficult and am honored you share your life with me.

I’ll be out in about 2 ? months and would love to meet you when we are both free.

Your sincere friend,

Molly

Swallowing hard, I let the pages of the letter fall back into my lap. Fuck…oh, f*ck! My face burned with shame as my stomach burned with churning. I never gave her a chance. Not a f*ckin’ chance. My harsh words sent in anger filled me with self-loathing. Molly gave up her freedom for a promise made to her sister and I laid waste to her sacrifice.

Her carefully handwritten words on the page blurred as I felt the unfamiliar sting of tears hit my eyes. Scrubbing my shaky hand over my face, I flopped back on the old sofa, hearing the sounds of the next shift coming in.

Folding the letter carefully, I placed it back into the envelope and slid it into my pocket. Standing, I nodded curtly toward the others as I headed out of the building, walking into the dark night.

My boots did not take me back to my tent. I wandered through the base for hours, my mind wandering as much as my feet. Staring up into the night sky which had always brought a sense of peace, now the stars appeared to be mocking me.

I have to make this right but had no idea how to begin doing that. Not from halfway around the world. I could only pray she would forgive me.





Chapter 9




(September – Molly)


“Hot pot!”

Ellen called out the warning and I ducked as she moved through the kitchen carrying a heated pan of fried chicken.

“Why the hell you asked to be reassigned to the hot, madhouse kitchen instead of staying in the quiet library for your last couple of months, I’ll never understand,” Jackie said, gently pushing by me as she carried the large metal pan of hot mashed potatoes.