Dear Charlie

TW - This story contains depictions of domestic violence, abortion, and emotional trauma that may be distressing to some readers.

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January 12, 2022

Dear Charlie, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while, but you need to know this: I left Josh today. I did it. I really did it. 

It felt as if I had finally swept the giant jar of lemon drops off the counter, letting them shatter into a kaleidoscope of shards and sugar. It was the first step in a life that would no longer taste of regret.

I’m sorry it took me so long. 

I’m sorry you’re not here to see it. 

But I want you to know that this was only possible because of you. 

Because of you, I am safe. Because of you, I know what is right, and what is wrong. And because of you, I will never settle for a love that takes and tolerates, rather than gives and celebrates. 

I love you Charlie. No matter how far and away you are, I still love you. 

Always.

— Anna

***

December 3, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

I didn’t know what I was doing until it was too late. There was blood. So much blood. The shower didn’t help, didn’t clean me. I watched it all drain out of me, then slide down the drain. I thought that it was funny. I thought that maybe it wasn’t real. 

But it was. And it was happening right there between my legs. 

I can still hear that lawn mower from two houses down. I can still taste lemon drops fresh on my tongue. 

What have I done? 

It’s all I could think, can think, still think. 

Charlie, what have I done?  

— Anna

December 5, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

Josh and I met four years ago at the Barefoot Bar & Grill. It’s exactly how it sounds; people were walking around barefoot and tossing back drinks, me included. I wasn’t dancing and I wasn’t having a good time. 

I’m not even sure why I was there that night. I wanted to go home, bury myself beneath a blanket, and fall asleep. I wanted to feel forgotten.

And then I met him and everything changed. 

He tapped my shoulder and said the worst pick up line of the century: Is it hot in here, or is just you? I remember laughing before I even turned to see him, but when I did, and when our eyes met, I knew he was the one. 

Charlie, it was because he saw me. I promise you, he really saw me. 

— Anna 

December 8, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

The pain is a little better today. I’m no longer taking oxy, but want to. I’d give anything for another hit, because then maybe I wouldn't feel the need to sit here and write to you. 

You hurt me, Charlie. Much more than I ever hurt you. I’m not sure how I feel admitting that, but it needed to be said. 

At least once.

— Anna

December 10, 2020

Dear Charlie,

Josh and I moved fast. Momma told me it was too fast, but I never paid much attention to her antics; what daughter does?  

In April, just two months after we met, we married and moved across the country together. I left my family, my friends, and my job behind. And I didn’t care much because all I cared about was Josh. 

I liked the way he drank. I liked the way he cursed. And I liked the way we fucked. It was different, Charlie. Much different than any other man I’d ever been with before. There was passion there, and love too. 

So when it was time to cut off everything, I did it without thinking twice. I packed my bags and life away with ease. With eagerness.

For the first time, all of my worth was worthy of someone. He was everything I’d ever wanted. 

In the beginning. 

— Anna

December 15, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

I thought I’d repaint your bedroom today. 

I hate the color of your walls. They’re the same yellow as lemon drops. Every time I step into your bedroom, I can feel the tang from those lemon drops dripping down my throat. 

So I bought a shade of white I don’t remember and cleared out your room. I made sure to tape the corners of the walls, have several sized brushes on standby, and I even tied my hair back in the red bandana Momma gave me. 

I felt ready. I felt like I could finally repaint your bedroom. 

But then I couldn’t. 

I stood there, in the very center of your room, and cried. 

I cried for quite a while, Charlie. 

I’ll try again tomorrow. 

— Anna

December 19, 2020

Dear Charlie,

Daddy told me once, a long time ago, that some things can’t be unsaid, even if you’re sorry. He said you can love someone with all your heart, but if you lose respect for them, you may as well have lost them. 

The first time I lost respect for Josh was on a Tuesday. I remember this with absolute clarity because on Tuesdays I would make tacos. It’s my job to have dinner ready when Josh comes home from work. If he doesn’t eat right away, he gets moody. Most men are this way Charlie, it’s just how it is. 

I was a little late on dinner. I had washed all the sheets because Josh’s parents were coming later that night to visit. When Josh came home, I still had about 30 minutes of cooking to go, and he wasn’t happy. Some things were said. And—

You never forget the first hit. It hurts and heals in a way that’s worse than all the other blows that will follow. 

And they’re all small things, Charlie. A comment here, a swing there. But they add up. These small, trivial things add up. 

And they weigh you down. 

I’ve felt so heavy for a long time, Charlie. I’m tired.

I'm really tired. 

— Anna

December 20, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

I went walking in the woods today. You know, clearing my mind and all that. And then, I stumbled upon something strange by the river. 

When I first saw it, I thought it was a torn trash bag. But when I got closer, I noticed it was an old pillowcase with rose petal print along the side of it. 

And it was moving.

I was too curious, and so I walked right up to the pillowcase and poked it with my boot. Something from inside made a soft whine, like a yawn, and so I knelt down and untied the bag. 

And there he was. A small, black kitten. It’s tiny mouth was opening and closing, it’s eyes still shut. It was shaking terribly, and I cradled it close to me. 

And then I lost it. I mean, I really lost it, Charlie. The kitten was so small, and someone had tried to—

I sat by the river, holding the kitten, and cried. I cried because if I hadn’t found it, it might have died. I cried because in its short life, it had already known such cruelty. 

I cried because who else would cry for it?

I couldn’t just leave it there. So I scooped it up and carried it to the first house I could find. I dropped the kitten on the porch, pounded on the front door, and ran. 

I heard the door open. I knew the kitten would be ok. I also knew I couldn’t have cared for it. Even if I tried. 

But it’s alive, Charlie. 

The kitten is alive. 

— Anna

December 22, 2020

Dear Charlie,

Finding out about you was both the worst and best day of my life. 

To think I had this small miracle growing inside me. This mini me. It was magic. I wanted to know everything about you. I wanted to be with you. Please know that. 

But then I thought about Josh, about us, and how it would be hard. I’d been wanting to leave Josh for a while, but that was hard too. There’s so much Charlie, so much to say. 

But I never told Josh about you. Or what I planned to do. 

— Anna

December 23, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

My favorite movie as a child was Alice in Wonderland. I loved the strange creatures, vibrant colors, and odd particulars of wonderland. But my most favorite part were the little cookies or drinks Alice would eat that would change her. She’d find a funny note taped to a bottle and it would transform her, helping her get to where she needed to go next. 

I thought a lot about this after my visit to planned parenthood. I was handed two little pink pills from a doctor that smiled like the Cheshire cat. And with everything but a clever note tied to them, those two little pink pills held all the wonder and horror of most things found in wonderland. 

I was instructed to take one pill there and one pill at home. 

I thought I did everything right. Even if everything felt wrong. 

— Anna

December 24, 2020

Dear Charlie,

The book I was most excited to read to you was The Runaway Bunny. 

In the story, a young bunny wants to run far and away from home, but each time he tries, his mother is always there to find him. I loved the drawings, but more so I loved the words. 

I wanted you to know that, Charlie. 

I wanted you to know that no matter how far and away we are from each other, I will always love you.

Always.

Tonight would have been our first Christmas Eve together. 

— Anna

December 25, 2020

Dear Charlie,

Right after I ate those two pink pills, I knew I had to get their taste out of my mouth. I had a jar of lemon drops on the counter, so I grabbed a handful and popped a few into my mouth. 

When I was a child, I’d let the tang of a lemon drop dissolve on my tongue, savoring the sweetness that followed. But now, even as I write this, they taste of something lost—sharp and cruel.

And so I sat on the couch, sucking on lemon drops, and trying not to think of you. Not too long after, I felt something hot and sticky between my legs. I reached down and when I pulled my hand away, I saw blood. A lot of blood. I thought it was normal, just a part of the pink pill process. So I went to go wash up.

I remember stepping into the shower and hearing a lawn mower from somewhere down the street. It grounded me, soothed me. This was normal, see? All this blood between my legs was as normal as trimming your front lawn.

I remember trying to breathe, trying to swallow, but all I could taste were those fucking lemon drops, sour and rancid. I gagged. Then I looked down again. 

It was too much, like a running river of red. I knew something was wrong. Something was really wrong. But even as I watched all of that blood pour out of me, I held onto one clear thought:

Oh, it’s you. 

For it was you Charlie. It was you, taking me down the drain with you. 

A part of me didn’t want the bleeding to stop because I knew that when it did, you would really be gone. And so would a piece of me, forever. 

Josh found me crying in the shower and called for an ambulance. I was carried out of my house on a stretcher and threw up twice on the way to the hospital. 

I couldn’t get the taste of lemon drops out of my mouth. 

I still can't.

And then I blacked out. 

When I woke up, the doctor said it was a miracle I was alive. He also said that you were gone, Charlie. 

All the light inside me went out. 

— Anna

December 27, 2020

Dear Charlie, 

Josh was angry when he realized what I had done. I have the scar to prove it. 

But in my own, small way, I know what I did was right. It was right because if you were here right now, Charlie, you would be hurting too. 

If you were here, you would have a Daddy who would hit you, a Momma who couldn't protect you, and a broken, bloody life. 

I couldn’t do that to you. 

I wouldn’t do that to you. 

I know I’ve made a lot of my mistakes, but Charlie, you were my biggest mistake.

My worst regret. 

Every time I write to you, I think of you. And every time I think of you, I—

It’s getting worse, the pain of what I did. The pain of remembering you.

I need to take some time away from you now. I need to focus on myself, find myself, and learn to fight for myself, so that maybe someday I have the strength to leave him.

So that maybe someday your death won’t be in vain. 

I love you Charlie. 

Always. 

—Anna