Chapter 17 - The Anniversary
The first anniversary of Anna’s death after the case ended was harder than Lily expected.
Last year, the date had been consumed by prosecutors.
This year there was nothing to do.
No hearing.
No evidence box.
No interviews.
Only absence.
David suggested visiting the cemetery.
Lily said no.
Rachel suggested dinner.
Lily said no.
Mina sent flowers.
Lily put them in the kitchen and went upstairs.
At noon, David knocked.
“No.”
“I’m not coming in.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Food outside the door.”
Lily almost smiled.
Later, she ate half a sandwich.
At four, she carried the teddy bear downstairs.
David was reading.
He closed the book.
“I thought we could do something Mom actually liked.”
“What?”
“Not cemetery stuff.”
He waited.
“Bad movies.”
David smiled.
Anna loved terrible disaster films.
The more impossible, the better.
They ordered pizza.
Rachel came over.
They watched three movies involving earthquakes, meteors, and a scientifically impossible tidal wave.
During the third, Lily laughed so hard she choked on soda.
Then she started crying.
Nobody stopped the movie.
Rachel handed her tissues.
David put an arm around her.
The giant fictional tidal wave destroyed Manhattan while Lily cried into the teddy bear.
It was ridiculous.
Anna would have loved it.
Afterward, Rachel gave Lily a small envelope.
“I found this while cleaning my desk.”
Inside was an old birthday card from Anna.
Lily was nine when Anna wrote it.
To Lily,
Nine is an excellent age. You know enough to argue and not enough to know when to stop.
Love, Mom.
Lily laughed.
“Accurate.”
On the back, Anna had written:
P.S. Theodore is technically mine. I expect visitation.
Lily hugged the bear.
“Denied.”
David smiled.
The anniversary changed after that.
Not easier.
Different.
The family decided they would not turn Anna’s death date into a formal ritual.
Some years they might visit the cemetery.
Some years not.
Grief did not need a calendar contract.
Months later, Vivian sent Lily a letter through her attorney.
Not directly.
The no-contact restrictions required consent.
David asked whether Lily wanted to know what it said.
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“No.”
“Dr. Morris?”
“She can if you want.”
Lily thought for several days.
Then agreed to let Dr. Morris screen it.
The letter contained no request for forgiveness.
That mattered.
Vivian wrote:
I remember saying your mother left nothing worth keeping.
I said it because I wanted to hurt you.
I also said it because I needed to believe Anna’s things had no value unless I could control them.
I was wrong.
Your mother left evidence because she knew I would lie.
But she left much more than evidence.
I understand that now because I destroyed my own life trying to protect things I had no right to keep.
Lily stopped reading.
“Do you believe her?” she asked Dr. Morris.
“That she understands?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
Lily looked relieved.
She did not need certainty.
She finished.
Vivian apologized for tearing the bear.
For manipulating David.
For harming Anna.
She did not call Anna confused.
She did not call the drug a mistake.
She wrote:
I gave her something without her consent because I wanted control over what happened the next morning. I told myself it was temporary. That lie helped me do something dangerous.
Lily folded the letter.
“Do I have to answer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She never did.
But she kept the letter.
Not beside Anna’s recordings.
In a different box.
Because Vivian’s remorse was not part of Anna’s legacy.
It belonged to Vivian.
One night, David asked:
“Why keep it?”
Lily shrugged.
“Because throwing it away would still be making a big decision about her.”
“What do you want instead?”
“To forget where I put it.”
David smiled.
A month later, she did.
May you like
That was progress too.
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