He’d said he didn’t want to die in a hospice.
But when Nathan asked him, he said, “If you’ll be there, Nate. I’ll go anywhere.”
Ezoic
So he went.
Ezoic
I opened the envelope on the second night.
I was sitting in the chair by his bed. He was asleep. Nathan was asleep too, curled up on the little vinyl couch by the window with the olive green jacket over him like a blanket.
I opened the envelope very carefully.
Inside, there were four pages. Handwritten. On lined notebook paper.
And a cashier’s check.
Pay to the order of Nathan Rhodes. $8,412.00.
The letter started like this:
Laura,
I’m three hundred and sixty-five days sober today. My sponsor says I have to do my ninth step. Make amends. So here goes.
I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. I don’t want you to. I don’t deserve it. I’m just going to tell you the truth. You deserve the truth.
