I thought about calling him, but decided I wasn’t ready to talk to him about the letter yet. The first person I wanted to talk to was my Aunt Caroline. I dialed her number and put the phone to my ear. It rang four times before I heard her voice.
“Hello?” she answered. She sounded sleepy.
I did my best to make my voice perky. “Hi Aunt Caroline. Did I wake you up?”
“Lorrie? You did, yes. It’s five o’clock in the morning!”
I looked out my window and realized it was still dark outside. A glance at my phone’s clock proved Aunt Caroline had been right about the time—it had totally escaped me. I put the phone back to my ear, trying to think of what to say next.
“Is everything okay?” my aunt asked. She sounded very worried.
It started with a single tear escaping from my right eye and falling warmly down my cheek. As it fell from my face, the dam broke and I cried hard, my chest convulsing with powerful sobs. Tears poured from my eyes as if they’d been saved up since I’d walked home from my econ exam.
Why had Marco sent that letter? Why now? The effort of crying so hard was exhausting and yet the release was such a relief that I couldn’t stop.
“Lorrie talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out.
“You’re sorry?” she asked. Her voice had raised a pitch, indicating her concern. “What are you sorry about?”
I tried to get words out, but blubbered instead. My aunt stopped asking me to speak. I could hear her breathing tense on the other side.
Several minutes passed as I tried to gather myself. The prospect of telling her about the letter kept bringing fresh sobs. I couldn’t imagine what a mess I’d be trying to talk to Hunter about this.
“Lorrie, do you need me to come get you?” she asked carefully.
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. “. . . He sent me a letter,” I said quietly.
“Who sent you a letter?”
I tried to say the name but it made me too scared, too angry, so it came out as a mumble.
“No!” she yelled. It was so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “That monster?”
I said nothing. There was silence on the line for several seconds.
“What did it say?” she asked quietly.
I breathed in and out several times, trying to steady myself. “He wants me to forgive him.”
“Bastard,” my aunt spat. I was surprised to hear her swear. That was unlike her. “He has some nerve sending you something like that.”
“He also said he loves me,” I added.
“What?” she screamed, even more loudly than before. I heard my uncle grumble in the background.
I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. “I couldn’t believe it either.”
“How did he know where you live?” She sounded panicked.
“I don't know . . . I don't think he does, it was forwarded from the Cook County Penal System, they must have our records.”
“Those idiots need to get it together, how could they forward something like that to you? Haven't we suffered enough already? I'm going to get a lawyer to give them a call.”
“No Aunt Caroline, forget it,” I pleaded. The thought of interacting with more lawyers and making the situation bigger than it already was made me sick.
She paused. “When did you get the letter?”
“A couple days ago.”
“And you’re just calling me now about it? What did you do when you got it?”
I sat up in my bed. “I’m sorry. After I saw the letter, I was so shocked . . . it . . . brought back everything I’ve been feeling since Mom died. I thought I was starting to do better but now I don’t know . . .”
There was a long pause on the line until my aunt broke it. “How are your classes going?” she asked, concern heavy in her tone.
“They were going okay before I got the letter,” I answered truthfully. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“Is it exams time?”
“Kind of,” I said, grimacing.
“Lorrie, I’ve seen you do this before. You need to come home.”
“No! I’m not going to let him win again. Not this easily.”
“Lorrie,” my aunt said delicately. “It’s not about winning and losing. It’s about surviving. Remember how you wandered off into the woods after hearing the news about your father? Uncle Stewart and I were worried sick.”
I’d told them I needed to take a walk after getting the news about my dad’s passing. My walk had turned into a several hour ordeal after I got lost in the woods behind their house. Uncle Stewart eventually came looking for me; they had never said it, but I was pretty sure they thought I’d gone the same route my dad did.
“I know, Aunt Caroline, but I have to take some time to see if I can figure this out. I’m not going to forgive myself if I run away unless I absolutely have to.”
“Lorrie, I’m not asking,” she said, her voice turning hard. “I’m sending Uncle Stewart to pick you up tomorrow.”
My stomach soured. “What? You can’t make me come home!”
“Then I’ll come with him so we can at least keep our eyes on you. I’m worried sick, and I know Uncle Stewart will be too the instant I tell him what happened.”
“No, you don’t have to do that!” I said hastily. “I’m fine! Just give me a couple days. I promise I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“We need to at least see you, Lorrie,” Aunt Caroline pleaded. “And I’m going to have a very hard time leaving you there unless I feel one-hundred percent certain that you really are fine.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe I can take the bus back to Indiana for a few days.”
There was silence on the line as my aunt was thinking. “Is there a bus available tomorrow?” she asked tentatively.
I stood up and went to my desk. “Let me check.”
Once I was at my desk, I did a search for the buses leaving for Indiana the next day. My aunt waited on the line.
“Yeah,” I said, “looks like there’s one for nine a.m. tomorrow.”
“Okay, dear. Buy that ticket and I’ll give you the money when you get home. If you don’t get on that bus, I’m sending Uncle Stewart to pick you up on Monday.”
“You won’t have to do that,” I said.
“Good . . . Is everything else going okay? What’s going on with that boy I met with all the tattoos? Hector?”