The letter

Title: The Letter

Meryl sat in her tiny apartment, the dull glow of fairy lights casting long shadows on the walls. It was her first holiday alone, and the silence was deafening. For twenty-two years, she’d endured the weight of unanswered questions and the emptiness of a fractured family. She thought she was used to it—until this Christmas.

She stirred her cinnamon tea absentmindedly, staring at the mismatched ornaments she’d placed on a small artificial tree. Her apartment was quiet, too quiet. The world outside hummed with the buzz of the holiday season—families gathering, couples skating, children laughing. But in here, it was just her.

For years, Meryl had been told to let it go. The father who abandoned them was a chapter her mother refused to open. She had begged, yelled, and pleaded as a teenager, but her mother’s response was always the same: “I’m protecting you.”

But protecting her from what? That question lingered like a ghost, haunting her most during moments like this—when the emptiness stretched into a void too large to ignore.

Meryl picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over her mother’s contact. She thought of how exhausted her mother sounded the last time they spoke, and guilt tugged at her chest. But guilt wasn’t enough to stop the ache.

She hit “Call.”

Her mother answered on the third ring. “Meryl? Merry Christmas, my love,” her voice warm but tired.

“Hi, Mom,” Meryl replied softly, her voice trembling. “Merry Christmas.” She hesitated, gripping her mug tightly. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

Her mother was quiet for a moment. “Can’t do what?”

“This. Pretending I don’t care. Pretending I don’t want to know,” Meryl said, her voice cracking. “Where is my father? Why did he leave? I need to know.”

Her mother let out a shaky breath. “Meryl, it’s Christmas. Why are we doing this now?”

“Because I can’t keep carrying this. You say you’re protecting me, but from what? I’m tired, Mom. I’m tired of not knowing who I am.”

“Meryl…” Her mother’s voice broke. “No, my child. Oh God, I can’t do this.”

The line went dead.

Meryl stared at her phone, disbelief coursing through her. She tossed it onto the couch, her frustration boiling over. “Fine,” she muttered to herself. “If she won’t tell me, I’ll find out on my own.”

Two days later, a knock broke the monotony of Meryl’s afternoon. She wasn’t expecting anyone. The sight of a man in a dark coat holding an envelope was surprising.

“For Meryl.” He handed her the envelope and left without a word.

She closed the door, her heart pounding. Her name was written in neat cursive on the front, but the handwriting wasn’t her mother’s. She hesitated for a moment before tearing it open.

Dear Meryl,

I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for writing this after all these years. I’ve wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know how—or if I even had the right. I left because I thought it was the only way to protect you and your brother. I was wrong.

Your mother kept my secrets because she believed she was protecting you, too. I see now that silence has only caused more pain.

Meryl, I am your father. My name is Joel. I never stopped thinking about you or Emmanuel. I know you have questions, and I owe you answers. If you’re ready, I want to see you. There’s so much I need to explain.

I’ll be at the Birchwood Café this Saturday at noon. If you come, I’ll know I have a chance to make things right. If not, I’ll understand.

Love,

Dad

Meryl’s hands trembled as she reread the letter. Her father. Joel. The man who had haunted her dreams and filled her with questions finally had a name. He wasn’t just a shadow in the past—he was real.

Her first instinct was anger. How dare he? After all these years of silence, a letter was supposed to make it better? But beneath the anger was a flicker of something else: hope.

Saturday came quickly. Meryl arrived at the Birchwood Café early, her heart pounding as she chose a corner table. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air, but her stomach churned too much to eat. She fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist, a gift from her mother years ago.

The door opened. A tall man with graying hair and tired eyes walked in, scanning the room nervously. When their eyes met, he froze.

“Meryl?” he asked, his voice cracking.

She nodded.

Joel sat down slowly, his hands trembling. “You look so much like your mother,” he said softly.

“Why now?” Meryl asked, her voice sharp. “Why not years ago?”

Joel swallowed hard. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. And… I didn’t know if I deserved to.”

“You didn’t. You don’t.” The words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t apologize. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me? For Emmanuel? We thought you were dead or didn’t care.”

Joel’s face crumpled. “I cared. I cared so much, Meryl. But I was scared. I made mistakes—big ones. I got involved with people I shouldn’t have, and it put you all in danger. Leaving was the only way I knew to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” Meryl’s voice rose. “You call abandoning your family keeping us safe? Mom worked two jobs just to keep us fed. Emmanuel dropped out of college to help. We’ve been struggling, and you were just… gone.”

Joel’s hands gripped the edge of the table. “I know. And I hate myself for it. Every day, I thought about you and your brother. I wanted to come back, but I was afraid I’d bring more harm than good.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “I kept this all these years. I wanted you to have it.”

Meryl hesitated before opening the box. Inside was a faded photograph of Joel holding a baby—her. There was also a bracelet engraved with her name. Tears welled up in her eyes as she touched the bracelet.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I needed to see you. I needed to know.”

Joel nodded, his own eyes glistening. “That’s all I can ask for. Just a chance to try.”

Meryl didn’t respond. She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and stared at it, the weight of the past heavy on her shoulders.

The café bustled around them, but they sat in silence, two strangers bound by blood and pain. Meryl didn’t know what would happen next. She didn’t know if she could ever forgive him.

But for the first time in years, she felt the smallest glimmer of hope. Sometimes, answers came with more questions. And sometimes, they were just the beginning.