The Secret Letters Read Online Free Page B

walls and no AC, where we watched Jay Leno, too drunk, tired, and sweaty to touch, until we passed out. There was something in Brandon’s face I had never seen before, something angry, like I had trapped him and now he was just going to have to suffer. But it turned out he was not trapped at all, and he ran away as soon as he could.
    Pam and I sat there thinking about our short, stupid marriages.
    â€œIt just seems weird that she had so much passion,” Pam said finally. “Like that soap opera she loved, what was that called?”
    â€œ The Secret Storm .”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œAre all the letters like that one?”
    She plucked another envelope out of the box and handed it to me.
    â€œâ€˜Beautiful girl,” I read. “I can still feel you touching me, your warm skin next to mine, so smooth and silky’—okay, TMI.”
    â€œWhoever he was, he was very poetic.”
    â€œWow.” I stared at the envelope. It was addressed to a post office box in town—well played, Mom, I thought. The postmark said Winslow, Arizona. October 1975. There it was again, that weird feeling about the postmarks. As I stared at the letter, the date stamp began to weave in front of me. “Pammy.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe envelope. The postmark.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    I could barely talk. My heart was pounding. “I know who this guy is.” The room was starting to spin and I couldn’t breathe.
    â€œWhat are you talking about? Who?”
    I pulled my inhaler out of my pocket and took a big whiff, then breathed in and out slowly like the doctor told me to. I really wanted a cigarette, but my mother would never let me smoke in the house, and even though she wasn’t there, I was still afraid to. When I could talk, I said, “He’s my father.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œThis guy. He’s my—he has to be my—” I took another hit of my inhaler.
    â€œWhat the fuck are you saying?” Pam counted on her fingers. “For Christ’s sake, just because she was seeing this guy around the same time that you were—doesn’t mean she—that you—”
    â€œI’m just saying it’s possible. I’m just saying that there it is, thirty-eight years ago. She’s three months away from getting pregnant with me and she’s sleeping with this guy. Thirty-eight years, Pam. I’m thirty-seven. I rest my case.”
    â€œThat isn’t evidence .”
    â€œYou sound like a lawyer.”
    â€œOuch.”
    â€œI’m just saying. Look at our father. I don’t look anything like him. Neither did Donny.”
    â€œSo? Lots of people don’t look like their fathers. You look like Mom. Everyone always said so.”
    I was never sure how I felt about this. “The point is, I never felt our dad was like a real dad. He didn’t act like dads were supposed to.”
    â€œYou watched too many episodes of The Brady Bunch .”
    â€œThe only game he ever played with us was Whac-a-Mole.”
    â€œPlenty of dads hit their kids. It doesn’t mean you have a paternity case here.”
    I glanced at her to see if she was having a laugh at my expense, but she looked like she felt sorry for me. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “I’ve always had a feeling something was not right. Something that should have been there and wasn’t. This would explain everything. He resented Donny and me because we weren’t really his kids, and he must have known—maybe he didn’t know he knew, but he knew .”
    â€œWas Tim not his kid, too?”
    â€œHey, I don’t know about Tim. Tim is not my problem. I’m just saying that suddenly my whole life makes sense. Bill Barlow is not my father. This guy is—this J.” I waved the letter at her.
    â€œOh, for fuck’s sake, Julie.” She was getting the pink spots in her cheeks she always got when she