Paper Thin

What was so hard to grasp about me not wanting to read the letter? I might eventually. I mean, I hadn’t thrown it away. I just couldn’t bear to read it. Not right now. Everything was too fresh.

My bare feet moved through the grass in the backyard. It had grown taller over the last few weeks, to the point of brushing my ankles. I toyed with the idea of letting it continue to grow until it swallowed the house. Every good memory I ever had there had been tarnished by what my sister had done.

When I reached the bench near the fire pit, I paused, debating on having a seat and catching my breath, but I didn’t want Sadie or Dawson staring at me through the kitchen window, so I continued past it and into the woods. Sharp bits of sticks and brush stabbed into the bottoms of my feet as I left the soft grass behind. The thought to go back for a pair of shoes never crossed my mind though. I was in a haze, one that pressed me against my breaking point. Once I made it to the fallen tree where Dawson and I had found Mom that one time, I sat.

I pulled the sleeves to my sweater over my hands and wrapped my arms around my middle. My eyes closed. The sounds of the woods floated to my ears, and I took in a deep breath. As I exhaled it, I heard footsteps of someone tromping through the woods close by. It had to be Dawson. He was the only person I had ever met who couldn’t walk quietly if his life depended on it.

“There you are.” His voice was softer, sweeter than it had been back in my kitchen.

I didn’t open my eyes, not even when I felt him move to sit beside me. His presence pressed against mine, and I felt my body sigh with relief as though it had been waiting for him to be this close. His nearness clamed me. It stilled my frantic mind and steadied my erratic heartbeat. Dawson had become the person I leaned on most throughout everything with Emma, except for this. I wasn’t sure why there was so much distance between us now. Maybe it was because he felt the same amount of guilt I did over the fact that we had been together that night, sipping on my blueberry drink, trying our best not to kiss one another, while watching the sunset. Emma had been a short walk away, debating on ending her existence with a handful of pills.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Dawson started again. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.” I told him what he wanted to hear. Arguing with him wasn’t what I wanted. I only wanted him to be quiet and sit with me. I needed the comfort he always seemed to bring with him. I knew now that it was like glue holding me together. Without it, I would only continue to break.

“No, it’s not. I just…” He trailed off. I opened my eyes and glanced at him, attempting to gauge what he was feeling based off his expression. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t opened her letter yet. It was her final words, Charlotte. Not excuses, but her final words to you. You should treasure them.”

I didn’t speak right away. Instead, I stared at him, wondering what his letter had said. “Did yours make you feel better? Were you able to accept what she had done?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “After a while, it did.”

I didn’t believe him. No words my sister could have written would make this pain I felt in her absence go away. “What did she say to you?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “A lot.”

Simple. Cryptic. I wanted to know more. Details. I needed them. “Like?” I pressed.

He shifted his gaze to the ground beneath his shoes. “She gave me directions for her Wake. The picture she wanted blown up, the food she wanted prepared, the music she wanted played, and a list of supplies. There was even a list of relatives and phone numbers for me to call and give the news to.”

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t understand what he was saying. “Why would she give you everything that was supposed to be my responsibility? Was she worried I would screw it up?”

She had pla

“She knew how hard it would be for you. She said she wanted to make this as easy for you as she could.” Dawson placed a hand on my knee. It was warm through the thin fabric of my yoga pants. “She loved you, Charlotte. This was her final way to do something for you, to take a portion of your burden away.”

“If she loved me so much and wanted to protect me from all this, then why did she do it in the first place?” I closed my eyes as I felt them swell with tears. I wasn’t sure how much a person could cry, but I felt as though I was nearing my limit for a lifetime.

“She didn’t do this to hurt either of us. She was in pain. More than you know. More than even I knew.”

“The doctors had given her medicine for that. If it was that bad, she should have said something to them. They could have upped her prescription strength or something. She didn’t have to do this, Dawson. She didn’t.” My tears flowed heavier as the words hung suspended in the air between us, crackling with my emotions.

“It was more than just physical pain,” he whispered. “It was deeper than that. Not only had the life she knew been taken from her, but so had the life she always dreamed of. She couldn’t bare it.” He sniffled, and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Most people would have felt sorry for themselves, and then moved on. I can’t understand why that didn’t happen to her. She was the strong one out of the two of us. She took care of Mom without an issue—”

“Because she had to,” Dawson cut in. “And it wasn’t without issue. There were many times when she would cry because she wasn’t sure if keeping your mom home was the right thing to do. I can’t even count how many times she called me with some crazy story from something your mom had done, or something your mom had said to her. She freaked out over directions when it was a new doctor she was taking your mom to. She would Google every new medication or treatment they wanted until she gave herself a headache. It was hard on her. She just never let you see it.”

I shook my head. “No. If it stressed her out that bad, she would have said something to me.” I refused to believe my sister had not been one hundred percent fine taking care of our mother on her own. Emma could handle everything that came her way. That was why I didn’t put up a fight or worry about anything when it came to Mom, because I knew Emma had it. She always had everything under control. It was who she was.

“She wanted you to stay where you were. She knew if she told you any of the bad stuff, it would worry you, and you’d come home to help. Emma wanted you to finish school and be young. She thought you deserved to.”

I hated his words, and the emotions they stirred within me. “She thought I was selfish. She told me herself.”

“She was mad.”

“No. She was right.”

“Stop putting her on a pedestal, damn it!” Dawson growled. “I loved your sister very much. It was why I asked her to marry me, but she was only human, Charlotte. She had her flaws and weaknesses like everyone else. Maybe if you’d read her letter, you’d understand her better.” He tossed the envelope from her into my lap. The sight if it was so jarring, I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry with him for digging through my room to find it, much less breathe. I stared at my sister’s beautiful handwriting. Clutching the envelope to my chest, I closed my eyes and cried.

MY SISTER FILLED THE house. Pieces of her were reflected in every single area I looked today. I had envisioned how hard this moment would be last night, replaying the looks of sympathy directed toward me from everyone who had loved Emma. The truth was, it wasn’t hard. Either I had gone numb to the pain of losing her, or I had somehow switched to my autopilot mode.