Chapter 15 - THE ONLY KEY
Four years after the laundry room, I replaced the lock on my condo safe.
Nothing was wrong with the old one.
I simply wanted one with a physical backup key.
The locksmith handed me two copies.
“Want them both?”
“Yes.”
“Family member keeping one?”
I smiled.
“No.”
He shrugged.
Normal question.
Normal answer.
I put one key on my ring.
The second went into my safe-deposit box.
Nobody else has one.
My financial life is boring now.
Mortgage payment.
Retirement contribution.
Groceries.
Student-loan balance: zero.
No surprise cards.
No lenders calling about applications I never made.
No family member deciding that unused credit is wasted generosity.
Mom lives forty minutes away.
We have coffee every few months.
Public places.
She never arrives unannounced.
She has apologized more than once.
I no longer need each apology to produce a decision.
Dad lives in Cincinnati now and works for another printing company.
We exchange Christmas emails.
That is the relationship we can manage.
Maybe it stays that way.
Kloe is the only unresolved piece.
Her letter has been in my safe for eight months.
I know a little about her life through Maya because that is how I prefer it.
She works.
She repays restitution.
She has not contacted Jake.
She has apparently stopped asking relatives to speak to me for her.
Those are facts.
Facts matter.
But they do not answer the personal question.
One Saturday morning, I opened the safe to get my passport for a trip to Seattle.
Kloe’s envelope sat on top.
My name written in her handwriting.
For a moment I considered opening it.
Maybe she explains the iron.
Maybe she says she hated me.
Maybe she admits she envied me.
Maybe she finally understands that every time our parents called her precious, they taught her somebody else had to become disposable.
Maybe she blames them.
Maybe herself.
Maybe all of us.
I still don’t know.
I took out my passport.
Closed the safe.
Turned the key.
The lock clicked.
Four years earlier, my mother had a secret key to the cabinet holding my identity.
Today, there is only one person who decides who gets access.
Me.
I slipped the key into my pocket and left for the airport.
May you like
Kloe’s letter stayed inside.
For now.
