Letter

Evelyn,

Even thought it's been pretty comprehensively shown that my judgment is better than yours, I feel fairly confident that you won't take this advice, because the fact that you don't take advise has also been pretty comprehensively shown. But I'm going to give it to you anyways, because then at least it's your fault for not following it, not my fault for not giving it.

This wedding is stupid. What are you doing it? "Because I'm in love?" No, if you really where in love why couldn't that, just as itself, be enough? No, you're doing this to tie him to you so he won't leave again.

This is a bad idea, and it's just going to make trouble when you do get divorced. Divorces are messy and expensive, and Chris will have more legal claim to Marley so you may loose custody of him.

I know you're not going to listen to reason, but you should. You have a good brain inside you head; start using it again. You have a good heart too, but thinking with heart is what causes you to make bad decisions.

I'm sorry I was only visiting once a month when Chris left. It's your fault for not telling me what was going on, but it's also my fault for not figuring it out. You cannot hold things over my head that I never knew about, but I ought to have realized what was going on. I knew you weren't telling me everything, but I thought you were telling me most of it. I didn't expect you to hide stuff, honestly, because I'm-gonna-do-what-I-want-and-the-rest-of-the-world-can-go-fuck-themselves is your thing, it's what you do. Hiding-stuff-from-people-and-lying-to-the is my thing, I didn't think you'd do that because stealing-other-people's-things is Emmy's thing.

But honestly Evie. Even if you don't believe me when I write this, I want you to be happy. I hope you're pleased with the life you end up living, and I hope it works out well for you. I mean it — all the luck in the world to you.

I want nothing but the best for you. I find it hard to believe that this life that you've chose will give you that, but who knows. I don't know you anymore, who am I to say that kind of life would make you happy?

You've burnt all you bridges, and I've burnt all mine, and we've used up all the matches, and the charred remains have fallen into the river below and been swept away by the current, and the river is swollen with all the tears, and so the two sides are farther apart then ever, and I'm not interested in building a new bridge. I have my own riverbank, and I need to get on with my own life.

You need a job, a proper job with good hours that gives you a chance to use your brain (although you'd probably make a great prostitute if it came down to that). Hopefully something with hours that are good for Marley.