Huge House Hates

I sit at the desk in my room with a blank sheet of paper in front of me and the best ink pen in my hand. Unfortunately, my mind is empty.

What do you say to a woman who doesn’t trust you? Who believes so little in the connection you’ve forged that she can walk away without even giving you a chance to explain?

All the words sound hollow in my mind.

I stare at the photo in the thin-edged black metal frame that sits on my desk. It’s a picture of me with Mom. She has her arms wrapped around me, and her lips pressed to my cheek. Her eyes are closed but mine are open and bright with the love that’s between us.

I felt that brightness when I was with Cora and my brothers. The rightness that comes with a connection that is rooted deep between people. Why doesn’t she feel the same? Why doesn’t she know and trust us the way I know and trust her?

The photo beside that is a picture of me with Mom and Dad. It was taken on the same day. I’m wearing the same red and white striped shirt and navy-blue shorts. Dad is holding Mom’s hand and gazing at her adoringly. They both have their hands on my shoulders.

And suddenly, I see what I was too arrogant to see before. Cora’s had different life experiences. Yes, I lost my mom when I was little, but she didn’t leave me because she chose to. Cora’s grown up knowing that her dad is out there somewhere and just doesn’t care enough to want to be a part of her life. No wonder she’s quick to believe the worst. Every bad thing that ever happened to her was because of a man.

So what do I need to say? What does she need to hear from me to believe that I’m not going to do the same thing? I start to write without knowing exactly what to say but hoping it’ll be okay as it comes from the heart.

Dear Cora,

I’m so sorry that you had to read those words in an article with my name attached. I’ve never spoken to that journalist and had no idea he was going to invent a quote that would put our relationship into the public eye. I know you value your privacy, and I’m sorry that it has been violated in this way. I have contacted the news channel and asked to have it removed. It won’t erase it for the people who’ve already read it, but I hope it will make you feel better to know that it’s not going to be searchable anymore.

I’m also so sorry that you came home to find Kyle here. I should never have let him in or listened to what he had to say. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been to find him in our home. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me, and I can understand how this must all be weighing on you.

I have a tendency not to want to admit that I’ve made a poor decision. Knowing that I was friends with a man who was capable of hurting you is something I’ve struggled to accept. I have put wanting to understand and process my own issues before you, and for that, I’m so sorry.

I’ve heard that your mom has told you that you need to break it off with us. Our dad has done the same thing. I guess the fact that you didn’t tell us is because you didn’t know what to do. I hope it means that you’re torn because that would give us a glimmer of hope.

We aren’t torn. Not even a little bit. Our father’s threats don’t mean anything to us because we know what we want, and we’re willing to fight for it.

So, I want you to look at this pot, made by my hands; a pot inspired by our relationship and filled with my love for you and my respect for your talents. I will never be able to produce anything as beautiful as you do every day, but I can love you with all my heart. I’m as imperfect as this pot, but I hope you’ll be able to look past that and remember that what we have together is awesome.

Come back to us, baby. I promise that whatever happens, we will work toward always being in your corner.

All my love,

Alden

I look over my words, still not confident that I’ve said enough. I wish that words were the root of my creativity because I’d do anything to be able to write something beautiful that would touch her heart.

I remember a small trinket that I made in high school that I keep in my top drawer. It’s a keyring made of metal, and it’s the thing that inspired me to pursue metalwork as my artistic medium. Engraved on the keyring are two birds which fly together, their beaks jutting forward, and wings spread wide behind them. It feels cool against my skin, and I run my finger over the engraving I did with my boyish hands. I told Cora a few weeks ago about how important it is to me.