Chapter 07. The Letter

~New Jersey~ 

— — — —

Beatrice Castillo’s P.O.V

Picking at our dinner, Diana and I watch from a small dining table as Anne-Marie sees the same cartoon she’s been seeing for months, with her niece seated in her lap. It’s her routine after a long Saturday slaving away at her part-time jobs.

“Aaa,” two-year-old Maryanne demands, lifting her little hands to feed Anne-Marie a snack. Anne opens up her mouth to take the snack, and they both keep watching. The feeding continues. “I feed you, Mommy. I feed you…”

Anne-Marie nods and chews in silence, hugging her precious niece to her chest. 

My heart breaks. Slowly, I meet Diana’s gaze, and I can tell from the sour expression on her face that I’m not the only one hurting.

Anne-Marie used to be the brightest of the three of us. Smart, talented, and always optimistic. From elementary school through high school and college, we were inseparable, until her gap year. We graduated from college without her, returned to NJ, and got great jobs, but she… she’s been here – sad, broken, becoming a shadow of herself, and forced to be a mom at 22. 

After she lost her mom and Mary two years ago, she fell off the face of the earth. No social media, no outings, no interacting with anyone unless it was for work or relating to Maryanne, and no keeping up to date with the world.

“How are we ever going to tell her?” Diana says in a hushed tone, pressing her lips together.

I glance at the iPad lying in the middle of the table, then back at Anne-Marie, wondering when the best time will be to break the news that has been eating us up for the entire week. 

Diana and I did something crazy because we could no longer stand to watch our best friend waste her life slaving away at part-time jobs to pay off debts and bills, and take care of her niece. So, we appealed to Northbridge University on her behalf, stating in detail why her one gap year turned into four, and asking for a brief extension since her credits expired earlier this year.

On Monday this week, we finally got a reply. A positive one! She’s been called back and asked to resume with the new semester starting next month. The only thing is, she has to repeat junior year all over again. I’m not sure how that’s going to make her feel. There’s also a possibility of her securing a scholarship and campus accommodation. Might not be the best option since she’s basically a mom. But Diana and I are ready to rent an apartment and move across states with her. 

We’ve been saving for this for six months. We’ve done lots of research: daycares close to Northbridge, part-time jobs Anne-Marie can take on close to college; we’ve already gotten new jobs; we’ve just not done the most important thing—tell her.

“Look, Mommy, look!” Maryanne begins, giggling and pointing a finger at me. “Aun Betice is– is…”

I exchange glances with Diana. When I turn again, Anne-Marie is staring over her shoulder, holding my gaze with a look in her eyes that says, ‘I’m exhausted. Don’t bother me.’ Resolute, I spring out of my seat, grabbing the iPad with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Diana’s eyes widen.

We’re doing this. We have to.

I get to the small couch they’re on and stretch a hand toward Maryanne, shaking my head and laughing. She giggles and puts her hands out to me. I meet my friend’s dull gaze and hand her the iPad, which displays her callback and resumption letter. “Here,”

She exhales, pursing her lips and looking so unenthused as she takes it from me. I pick up Maryanne and turn away, meeting Diana’s popped-out eyes and tightened face. I return to my seat, rocking adorable Maryanne, my eyes glued to her mommy. I’ve not breathed; my heart is in my throat.

Without a word, she pushes her ginger curls out of her face, flings the iPad to the other couch, and turns her attention back to the cartoon. 

My stomach plummets into a pit.

“We booked the flight and everything.” Diana chokes out, finally.

“Get a refund.” She replies dryly. 

Diana slaps her face, exhaling in exhaustion. 

“We can’t… We’ve wrapped up our life here already, packed up everything, and are ready to move states with you and Maryanne.” I protest, then I kiss her niece on the cheek. “Wanna go to Minnesota with your mommy?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“See?” 

Anne-Marie looks over her shoulder, her green eyes heavy with pain and strain. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything you want. I didn’t ask you to do anything for me.”

Hurt lodges in my throat. “We’re your best friends… We’re family. You don’t have to ask us to do anything for you before we—.”

“Do your mom’s words mean nothing to you?”

I swish around to look at Diana, who has her eyes brimming with tears. Turning back to Anne-Marie, hurt flashes in her eyes; they twitch. Her face hardens; she huffs, but remains silent.

“You promised her you were going to complete college.”

“Well, she’s too dead to boss me around!”

My jaw slacks.

Anne-Marie shoots up, turns toward the door, and storms out of the house. And immediately, little Maryanne’s mouth breaks into an ear-splitting cry. 

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

Blinded by tears, I rock her against my chest, but she cries harder, stretching her hands, struggling to get out of my grip, and calling for her aunt, whom she’s stubbornly refused to stop calling ‘mommy’. 

The door flies open, and Anne-Marie returns, marching toward me with a scowl. 

“Mommy… Mommy…” Maryanne’s crying stops as she fixes her eyes on her aunt, her tiny body trembling calmly with every deep breath she takes.

“Give her to me.” 

I hold on longer. But Maryanne, ever energetic, almost falls out of my grip. Anne takes her from me, ready to turn away.

“Please,” I blurt, slipping out of my seat. I drop to my knees.

Anne-Marie freezes, her arms protectively wrapped around her baby.

Diana wastes no second in joining me on the floor. “Please… Do it for them: your mom and sister. Please.”

“My life is over.” She painfully voices out to us, fighting tears with every muscle in her face.

“No, it’s not,” I mutter, crawling to her.

“It is… I’m too ashamed to be anything. Too tired to pursue anything. I’ve grown content with where I am. Why won’t you guys just let me be?”

“Because we know you. And we love you. And we’re always here for you—”

“We quit our jobs, and we’re moving with you,” Diana cuts in, crawling forward quickly as she cries. “You won’t be alone. I know your mom’s gone. But she’s still watching over you…, cheering you on. Even Mary. That’s why she gave you Maryanne… They’re both rooting for you.”

Her eyes roll upward as she throws her head back, but the tears leak out now.

“Please,”

“Please, Anne-Marie… You promised your mom. You promised her.”

“Mommy? Mommy…” Maryanne blabbers, using her tiny hands to wipe the tears streaking Anne-Marie’s face. “Don’t cry… don’t cry…”

She sniffles, looking lovingly into her niece’s eyes. 

“Don’t cry…”

“I’m not crying,” she mutters.

“Play… to play…”

“But it’s time for bed.”

“To play…”

“We found a daycare center for her, too,” I murmur.

Anne-Marie shifts her misty eyes to me. They’re softened now. 

“It’s close to college.”

“It’s one of the best.” Diana crawls ahead of me. “We also found–”

“Can you both get off the floor?”

“Not until you give us an answer.” 

Her shoulders sag as she lets out an exhausted exhale. “Resumption’s next month, I can’t—”

“There are online classes!” I scream louder than I planned to, scrambling off the ground so hastily. “Online classes until you’re ready to leave for Minnesota.”

“Don’t worry, we saved up so much money for all you’ll need.” Diana pushes me out of the way, rushing to be face-to-face with her as she listens to us. “There’s a payment plan for the first half of the semester until you get your scholarship… Beatrice and I will rent an apartment. For part-time jobs…”

My heart is racing. My hands are shaking. Anne-Marie is considering returning to college after four years. It’s really happening. There’s just one thing we’ve not told her… Figure skating is a major part of this scholarship plan.

But she’s not skated in almost five years; she’s also buried that part of her life when she buried her mother, who taught her to skate.