Andrew,
Know that I love you, son. I know that when a mother has a child her goal in life is to nurture, protect, and care for that child. I didn’t do that with you. I’m not sure that I ever knew how, Andrew.
“Oh, my god. This is a letter to Drew from his mother,” I said out loud, blinking again. I shouldn’t be reading this. This was personal.
I know that you think I left this world because I couldn’t live without Michael. That wasn’t the case. I did love Michael in my own way, I guess, but it was all for you. I’m sick, Drew. I’ve been sick for a very long time. I don’t want you spending your life, taking care of a mentally ill mother. You deserve better. I knew Michael would leave you everything. You deserve everything. There is something else that I need for you to know about me, something that shames me too much to live with for one more day.
I knew, Andrew, I knew. What kind of mother does that make me? It makes me the kind of mother that doesn’t deserve to breathe. I should have done something. I should have run away with you.. I knew what he was forcing you to do, Andrew. I knew, and I didn’t stop it. Why didn’t I stop it? I have no excuse for that. I let Michael brainwash me. The first time I found the photos, Michael laughed and told me he was teaching you how to be a man, and do what needed to be done to get what you wanted.
I didn’t understand that. He was hurting you. I saw it with my own eyes. I believed him when he told me that you liked it, and that he would never hurt you. He told me that he was teaching you everything you needed to know to takeover once the time came. I knew it was wrong, Andrew. I knew it and I let it happen. You were just a small boy, and the hollow look in your eyes in the photos that I saw, I knew it was wrong and should have been enough to die for you. I’m dying for you now son. I’m dying because I want you to live. I’m dying because you deserve that. Michael is dying because you deserve to live.
“Uh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He was going to die anyway, right? I only helped him. I knew there would be no autopsy, and if there was, I’d be gone too. The man had cancer, he was sick, and was a very easy target. Had he not been such an ass and let the doctors and nurses do their job, he may have conquered the cancer. He got sicker and sicker because of me and because of an episode of Law and Order. Ethylene glycol, poisoning. It’s a toxic, colorless, odorless, almost nonvolatile liquid with a sweet taste, known to be lethal to humans.
It was easy to stir in a teaspoon into his hot tea, here and there. It was easy to keep the contents of the antifreeze hidden in a shampoo bottle. Thirty two ounces, Andrew. That’s what it took. I should have felt bad, watching him vomit green bile. I never felt bad, not once did I feel bad witnessing Michael convulse, vomit, and be so weak that, he couldn’t hold his head up. I remember laughing hysterically the first time he soiled his pants. The nurse made me leave, I was laughing so hard.
He’s never going to hurt you again, Andrew. I am never going to hurt you again.
Oh, my god. Drew’s mom killed Michael. She killed him and herself for Drew. What photos? What did that mean? I needed to see for myself. I didn’t want Drew seeing something that was going to set us back further than we already were. I had a pretty good hunch as to what it was, but I needed to see. I’d destroy them myself
I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry for the life I let you live, and I am sorry for not protecting you. Be happy son, live life in love. You have more than enough money to walk away and enjoy it. Don’t get consumed the way the Callaways did. There’s more to life than money, and I am sorry for not finding this out before I sacrificed us both. Once you have seen the horrific evidence of why you deserve everything you have, destroy it, and never look back.
I love you, Andrew, don’t hurt for me. I’m okay now.
Until we meet again…..
Mom.
You’re okay, Morgan. Get this over with, put it behind you, and move on. I pep talked myself. Opening the box, I removed a pink, satin hanky. It still had a lingering perfume smell.
I didn’t even gasp at the surprise. It was exactly what I thought it was. Drew was so little, and I could see the hollow look that his mother spoke of.
“Excuse me,” I spoke to a young boy, consoling a crying girl. He had a cigarette between his lips. I knew he had matches. “Do you have a light?”
“Keep it,” he said, tossing me a bright yellow lighter, walking his crying girl away.
I flipped through the photos of Drew growing up, abused. The first picture I set on fire above Michael’s grave, it was Drew bent over the same desk that I’d been bent over many times. His small butt bore bright red lines.