I stared at the elevator numbers. “He really planned this?”
“Your grandfather hoped he was wrong,” she said. “But he planned for the possibility that he wasn’t.”
The apartment was on the seventh floor. One bedroom. Clean white walls. A small balcony. A desk already set near the window. In the kitchen, the refrigerator had been filled with groceries. On the counter was a note in my grandfather’s handwriting.
My knees nearly gave out before I touched it.
Evie,
If you are reading this, then the adults who were supposed to protect you have made you pay for protecting yourself.
Do not go back just because loneliness feels like guilt.
You are not responsible for rescuing people who saw you as a resource.
Build your life. That will be answer enough.
Grandpa
I sat on the floor and cried then. Not because I had been thrown out. Not even because my parents had looked at me with more anger than sorrow.
