An Inquiry

Dear Dr. and Mrs. Weinberg,

You don’t know me, but I knew your daughter, Leah. I didn’t know her directly, but I had a connection with her. I was hoping you might answer some questions for me about what happened to her and the boy.

I understand how strange this message might seem, coming out of nowhere. Let me introduce myself so you can see I’m not some crazy internet stalker. My name is Ellen Price Winters. I am the Vice President of Commercial Lending at the First Bank of Indiana (Indianapolis). I am married with two daughters, 8 and 10. My husband works in insurance. We live on a cul-de-sac. In short, I am just about as normal and boring as a person can be.

My connection with Leah was through Manny. Manny and I met in business school . We planned to get married. Fortunately for me that never happened. If you know him, you can probably guess why. If you don’t, here’s a brief explanation.

Manny was a classic narcissist—charismatic and charming when he wanted to be, but capable of engaging in profoundly antisocial behavior and then lying about it with utter conviction. I wish I could say I left him as soon as I saw him for what he was. Or the first time he cheated on me. But I didn’t. I was shy and awkward, my self-esteem was nothing.

It took me finding the shoebox of cash and baggies to decide that I’d finally had enough. I moved out, leaving everything behind but my suitcase. I had to borrow money from my parents for a deposit on an apartment because he had drained our joint bank account.

That was almost 15 years ago. Manny became just a bad memory, a bullet that I dodged. If he had any lingering significance to me, it was that I set out to create a life that in no way resembled the one I had with him.

You can imagine my surprise, a few years ago, when I received a Facebook friend request from him! I had no intention of accepting his request, of course. But I admit, I was curious about what had become of him. And he didn’t have any privacy settings on his page. So I snooped a little.

It was obvious that he’d been through a lot. He looked worn out. Much older than his late-thirties. He had traded in his suits for ratty sweatshirts, acquired a forearm tattoo. I saw that he “liked” and “checked in” at the Horizons Recovery Center.

A little internet research and some emails to old classmates confirmed what I already suspected: He’d hit rock bottom. Asked to leave his firm under cloudy circumstances. Married and divorced twice. Foreclosure. Bankruptcy. Arrests for possession, theft, and credit card fraud. Perhaps you already knew this? If so, then I apologize for rehashing old news.

Then he changed his relationship status and posted a picture of himself with Leah. His arm was around her and she was leaning into his chest. And I could only think: My god, she’s young.

She had to be fifteen years younger than him. The age I was when we were together. Did the difference trouble you? I think it must have. Especially considering how they met. I am making an assumption as to that last part, but she had the same exhausted look, ratty clothes, and tattoos. I thought people in recovery weren’t supposed to date each other, but maybe that’s more of a suggestion than a rule?

Manny posted more photos of them together, and at first I wondered what he saw in her. She was (forgive me for saying) fairly plain. Short brown hair, roundish face, a little heavy-set. From what little information there was on her own Facebook page (again, no privacy settings) it didn’t seem like she’d ever attended college or held a real job.

Then I realized: Plain. Unaccomplished. Probably unsure of herself. She was exactly Manny’s type. He would chew her up and spit her out like a piece of gum.

I saw that they moved to Jacksonville. And that Manny was involved in some new business venture involving restaurants. This didn’t seem like a good idea given his history, the restaurant industry being notorious for substance abuse. I wonder how you felt, considering that you live in Pennsylvania, about your daughter taking up with such a man and moving so far away. Maybe you were just happy she was clean and sober. Maybe you were beyond worrying about her.

And then they announced she was pregnant! Again, this seemed like a bad idea. Manny is hardly parent material. I discovered this the hard way. You see, when we were in graduate school I got pregnant. It was an accident. I had just turned 22 and we lived in a basement apartment with one futon and a microwave. There was no way we were keeping it. Manny was convinced I had gotten knocked up on purpose to "trap" him, lay claim to all the money he was sure to make one day. What an insult. What a joke.

In any event, I was concerned for Leah. She had no obvious means of support besides Manny. It seemed like his business was doing well. He posted plenty of pictures of himself wearing a suit and a ridiculous gold watch, standing next to potted palms in front of a series of restaurant entrances at what appeared to be strip malls. But, as I well know, Manny was good at faking appearances.

You would have been able to help. Your medical practice in Doylestown appears to be successful, and I see that you are active in the synagogue. But perhaps you had gotten tired of supporting her. It couldn’t have been easy for people of your socio-economic status and prominence in the community to have a daughter go through drug addiction and end up with someone like Manny.

But then the baby came! I thought it was sweet that they called the boy Rami. (Ramón was Manny’s father’s name, in case you didn’t know.) Manny posted lots of pictures from the hospital of him holding the swaddled little bundle and smiling. So I guess he was capable of being happy about a baby after all. I assume you were happy too?

Leah started posting much more often. She must have spent all of her time with Rami. There were pictures from inside their apartment, that small, beige, cheap-looking space with those terrible vertical blinds. Then they were at the beach, Rami wearing tiny swim trunks over his diaper. I imagined her putting him in the carseat and lugging all the gear by herself. I hoped she was careful with the sunscreen on that soft baby skin. Rami started crawling, then toddling around. They went to parks and playgrounds, and the children’s section of a library. I remember taking my own children to such places when they were small. That seems like such a long time ago.

There was never anyone else in the photos. No other babies or moms. Just Rami, though sometimes Leah would hold the phone out to get a shot of both of them. I wondered if she was lonely. You can never tell with social media. People only show what they want you to see. New motherhood can be so difficult. I remember crying a lot. It’s probably good that Facebook wasn’t really a thing back then

Still, Leah really did look happy. It seemed like she and Rami got to exist in their own little dream world. Every day, it was just the two of them, together. If she had any other concerns it was impossible to tell. It also wasn’t clear who her audience was. No one ever liked or commented on the pictures.

Then it was Rami’s birthday. There were pictures of him with a little cake, wearing a t-shirt that said I’m 1 Today! His favorite present was obviously the big stuffed alligator. It was in every photo. I wonder if you sent it to him? Manny was in some of these pictures too and I realized it had been a while since he had made an appearance. Honestly, that was probably a good thing. The less of his toxic presence the better.

I hadn’t been paying attention to Manny’s page—he wasn’t posting much, and when he did it was usually just business promotion or preening selfies. The only pictures of Rami were ones that Leah had taken and already posted to her page.

But then one day, only a few months after the birthday party, Manny posted that Leah had died.

I felt a physical shock at the news. I was supposed to start making dinner, but I couldn’t. I ran to the upstairs bathroom and locked myself in. How could this be? Leah was in her early twenties. She didn’t seem sick. This was completely out of the blue. She had just posted a picture two days before of her and Rami, both wearing sunglasses and smiling with big goofy grins.

I scanned the local papers for an accident or a violent crime—anything like that resulting in a death would get covered in the news. There was nothing.

Then it occurred to me: She must have relapsed. And overdosed. Why else would an otherwise healthy young recovering addict just die?

There was no obituary, just a short death notice.

Manny appeared distraught. His posts were full of maudlin quotes and sunsets. Typical Manny--even though she was the one who died he still made it all about himself. Then his page went dark. He must have shut it down. Leah’s was converted to a memorial page. I read the few dozen posts on it from her supposed “friends,” hoping for a clue as to how she died or what was to become of Rami. But there was nothing. Just vapid “RIP Leah!” “We love U 4-ever!” messages. I couldn’t find any actual information.

Which is why I am writing to you. I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with Leah, and I’m sure this is an incredibly painful time. I’m sorry if my inquiries are making it worse, but there is nowhere else to turn. I need to know.

Did it really happen the way I imagine? Was Rami with her? Did the neighbors find him in a wet diaper, crying because his mommy wouldn’t wake up? And if so, how could she do such a thing? She had Rami. He loved her. Why wasn’t that enough? Was Manny involved? If so, perhaps he could be criminally prosecuted. Are you angry at him? Are you angry at her? It would be understandable if you were. Have you forgiven her? Do you think you ever will?

And where is Rami? I can’t imagine Manny as the single parent of a toddler. He shouldn’t be, given his own history. Have you taken custody? I’m sure you can care for him, raise him in a loving and stable home. If not you, I know there will be someone willing to. He seems like such a sweet boy, with those big dark eyes and wispy brown curls. My heart aches for him.

How much will Rami know of his mother? What will you tell him? Will you show him the pictures? They are all still there on her page. There is one, from when he was only about four months old. Leah is leaning over him. Her hair is a little longer and it hangs around her face. Light streams in through the blinds. He is reaching up and touching her cheek with his pudgy hand, gazing at her with pure love. She is the center of his world.

You don’t need to respond if you don’t feel comfortable doing so. I understand that this inquiry is highly unusual, and again, I apologize for any pain it might cause.

But please, I hope you will at least find that picture and show it to Rami so he will know how much his mother loved him. So he will remember that, for a brief time at least, hers was the face of god...

E. P. W.