Chapter 12 - Margaret Wanted To Destroy A Page That Didn’t Blame Her
We found Margaret outside the fire perimeter arguing with a police officer.
She had not gotten inside.
Good.
Ryan stood near her.
When she saw Owen, she swore.
First time in my life I had heard my mother use that word.
I almost respected it.
“What page?”
I asked.
She looked at Ryan.
He shook his head.
“Don't.”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“I am not doing this on a sidewalk.”
“You tried to enter a burned building.”
“I wanted my property.”
“What page?”
Owen answered.
“Peter’s letter to me.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You kept a copy?”
“No.”
“What letter?”
Ryan asked.
Owen looked at Margaret.
“You tell them.”
She closed her eyes.
Then:
“Your father wrote Owen after he left.”
“How long after?”
“Two months.”
“What did it say?”
Margaret’s voice came out thin.
“That leaving was his decision.”
I waited.
“More.”
“He said not to let me turn him into a martyr.”
Owen nodded.
Ryan stared.
Margaret continued.
“He admitted he had delayed repairs. He admitted he had wanted out of the marriage. He admitted he was relieved to leave the store behind.”
That complicated everything again.
Peter had not been driven out entirely.
He had wanted some of it.
“What else?”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“He said Ryan did not cause the fire.”
Ryan stopped breathing.
“He wrote that.”
“Yes.”
“To Owen.”
“Yes.”
“Why not me?”
She looked at him.
“He said he wasn't ready.”
Ryan laughed.
“There it is again.”
I asked:
“Why did you want the page destroyed?”
Margaret’s eyes lifted to mine.
“Because of the last paragraph.”
“What did it say?”
She looked tired now.
Older than sixty-two.
“He said if he ever stayed away long enough that you both thought he had abandoned you, that would be his failure.”
No absolution.
No blame shifted to Margaret.
Peter had written his own indictment years before we grew old enough to give him one.
Ryan looked toward the burned storefront.
“So he knew.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed away anyway.”
“Yes.”
Margaret’s voice cracked.
“He kept telling himself one more year would make things easier.”
Owen said quietly:
“And I kept letting him.”
Margaret turned.
“So did I.”
The two of them looked at each other.
Twenty-two years of accusation suddenly less useful.
I asked:
“Why destroy it if it doesn't blame you?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because it destroys the version where one person is responsible.”
I understood.
She had survived by assigning roles.
Peter caused the fire.
Owen interfered.
Ryan needed protection.
Claire could handle distance.
Margaret held the family together.
The letter made everyone harder to summarize.
She looked at Ryan.
“If you read that at seventeen, you would have hated all of us.”
Ryan said:
“I did anyway.”
She flinched.
The police officer nearby pretended not to listen.
Good man.
Ryan asked:
“Where is the letter?”
Owen looked toward the store.
“Peter left the original in his desk before the building was closed.”
“After all these years?”
“Maybe.”
Margaret laughed bitterly.
“The entire office may be ash.”
I looked at the blackened doorway.
For once, I didn't care whether the paper survived.
We already had the part no document could improve.
May you like
Our father knew staying gone was a choice.
So did everyone who helped him stay gone.
