Looking at the envelopes, she'd imagine what the mailman would think upon delivering these letters into the mailbox. He'd probably think she was pining away for him. He'd probably think the poor guy was holding on to whatever he could in the outside world. It didn't really matter to her. She tried to feel some kind of embarrassment but she really couldn't.She didn't care what anyone thought; she knew what she felt deep inside.
She took her favored seat for such occasions and proceeded to open the new delivery. It was the same stuff as in prior letters: 'please pray for me', 'be careful of what you do', 'make sure you take care of our son', 'we're gonna be so happy when I get out', 'I never did whatever it was that they charged me with'...blah, blah, blah. To say that these words had any kind of impact on her would've been a giant lie. Now they just seemed to be her personal weekly comic strip that traveled from a distance. But there was one thing that made this letter a bit different from the other ones.
'I need you to write to the parole board, babe. Let them see what a good person I am. Make them understand that I have to be out there because you need me to help you raise our son. Tell them that there is no one there to help you but me. Tell them of how much you really need me.'
At first she really couldn't believe what she was reading. Could it really be true? Was he freakin serious? 'Tell them how much you really need me.' Rage came in at the next instance. To think, all this time she had been the one raising her son. She had been the one to finally get her own place, she had been the one to buy her son clothes, shoes, toys, anything he needed; she was the one that took him out of town for vacations, paid for all his medical necessities, paid his daycare, spent her days making sure that he was okay...and they were doing just fine. Yet this guy, this loser, thought that she really needed him.
He had gone on to provide her with the parole board number and a place where she could send him money. Never, not once, had he ever been able to provide for their child and yet he expected her to provide for him. She put the letter down, having read every ridiculous word. Had he been in front of her, she probably would've laughed in his face. She had never needed him. Now, more than ever, he was not a necessary (or welcomed) part of her, or her son's, lives.
She turned to go and get her phone. She dialed the ten digit number and asked to speak about him. She was going to tell them exactly what they needed to hear, which was going to contradict everything he had asked her to say. Wasn't the saying: the truth shall set you free? In this case, the truth would probably keep him in for a long time but she would finally embrace freedom.
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