The date on the hospital bracelet told me Rose was three months old.
“I wanted Mom today,” she wrote. “I wanted her so badly I dialed half her number. Then I remembered what she said when Mrs. Parker’s daughter got pregnant: ‘Some girls throw their whole future away and expect applause.’ I hung up before the phone rang.”
John whispered, “Open the one for you.”
“I wanted Mom today.”
I didn’t want to, which meant I had to.
“Mom,
If you’re reading this, please don’t punish Liam. I asked him to keep my secret.
I have a daughter. Her name is Rose. I named her after Grandma because I wanted one piece of home that didn’t hurt.
I don’t know if you can forgive me. But I need to know if you can love me without owning me.
If yes, ask Liam where I am.
If no, please let me stay gone.”
