Love, Rosie (149 page)

and
my
reason
for
being
is
to
ensure
she
gets
the
best
chance
at
happiness

possible.

She’s
had
to
go
through
a
lot
lately,
with
Greg,
having
to
move
back
in

with
Mum
and
Dad
and
then
preparing
to
move
again
to
America.
She’s

been
under
a
lot
of
stress.
Stress
that
she
shouldn’t
have
had
to
go
through.

She’s
supposed
to
be
worrying
about
spots,
bras,
and
boys.
Not
adultery,

moving
continents,
and
fathers
doing
magic
reappearing
acts.
None
of
this
is

her
fault
and
seeing
as
I
brought
her
into
this
world
the
least
I
could
do
is

continue
on
with
the
good
work
I’ve
been
doing.
She
isn’t
a
drug
addict,
isn’t

love,
rosie

231

rude,
is
doing
fine
in
school,
has
all
the
right
limbs
in
all
the
right
places,
and

hasn’t
managed
to
do
anything
really
stupid
with
her
life.
And
out
of
all
the

awful
stories
you
hear
in
life
I
think
I’m
doing
a
great
job.

I’m
expecting
Alex
to
burst
through
the
door
any
minute.
I’m
sure
he

has
hopped
on
the
first
plane
to
get
over
here
and
beat
up
Brian.
I
suppose

that’s
what
best
friends
are
for.
I
can’t
even
think
about
what
life
“could

have
been”
like
in
Boston,
without
crying.
It’s
like
deja-vu,
I
don’t
think
me

and
Boston
were
ever
meant
to
be.
I
don’t
quite
know
where
I
should
go

from
here.
I
have
no
job,
no
home,
and
I’m
back
living
with
Mum
and
Dad

again.
As
much
as
I’m
grateful,
everything
about
this
house
brings
back
a

time
when
I
wasn’t
happy.
I
had
a
wonderful
childhood
but
the
years
with

Katie
were
so
difficult,
they’re
the
strongest
memories
I
have
of
this
house—

the
smells,
the
noises,
the
wallpaper,
the
bedrooms
all
remind
me
of
late

nights,
early
mornings,
and
worrying.

Anyway
forgive
me
for
not
being
in
contact
over
the
past
while,
but
I’ve

been
trying
to
get
my
head
around
all
of
this.
I’m
trying
to
make
some
sense

out
of
the
phrase
“Everything
happens
for
a
reason,”
and
I
think
I’ve
figured

out
what
the
reason
is—to
piss
me
off.

When
I
started
school
I
thought
that
people
in
sixth
class
were
so
old

and
knowledgeable
even
though
they
were
no
older
than
twelve.
When
I

reached
twelve
I
reckoned
the
people
in
sixth
year,
at
eighteen
years
of
age,

must
have
known
it
all
.
When
I
reached
eighteen
I
thought
that
once
I
fin-

ished
college
then
I
would
really
be
mature.
At
twenty-five
I
still
hadn’t
made