The Spencer Letters

Letter 68.

Dear Spencer,

There's no proper way to start this letter, just dive straight into it, I guess! But you may want to sit down for this one...

I won't be wasting time with my usual reflections and analyses of feelings and impressions because it's not for me to say how any of this feels. I can share assumptions based on how much I know him and interpret his reactions, but it'll be up to Harry to one day tell you in detail how he felt when he first met with your father.

Harry was set on delaying this encounter for as long as he could manage, but he didn't even get a chance to give it his best try... your dad showed up at our door the very next day.

Since he took the week off to take care of us after the incident, your brother was home even though it was noon. Unlike the previous night when your mom visited us, he didn't panic at the sound of the doorbell. At that time of day, it could've been my mom bringing us food, or Junior stopping by to see us during his lunch break, or Dylan coming to say goodbye before having to fly back to San Diego that night.

When the bell rang, I was sitting at the dining table, hand-sewing some baby clothes I had started to make for Ryan weeks ago (when I could still use the machine comfortably) but hadn't quite finished yet, and your brother was a few feet away from me, chopping vegetables in the kitchen while we discussed middle name possibilities for our son, which is something we've put off for too long now.

"I'll get it" I said, always taking advantage of any opportunity I may get to get up and move, even if it's just a very, very short walk to the front door.

I could hear Harry protesting and following close behind me with his incessant "you don't know the meaning of 'restricted activity', do you?" which is normally succeeded by my "you seem to confuse 'restricted activity' with immobility!"

He was right behind me when I reached the door and unveiled your father on the other side of it.

"Hi... may I come in?" Edward asked, his face red as a tomato. We both hesitated to respond, so he continued. "Is this not a good time for you? I can come back later if-"

Harry cut him off.

"This isn't a good time actua-"

I cut Harry off.

"Yes, this is a good time, you may come in."

It wasn't my intention to act against Harry's will, but for some strange reason, I felt sorry for your father. He looked like a dead man about to walk the plank, or like a prisoner on death row who was knocking at his executioner's door to beg for mercy, but at the same time knowing it may not change anything and his fate was indeed sealed.

I opened the door inviting him in, and I could hear Harry sigh heavily in resignation. I mouthed an "I'm so sorry" while I closed the door and he gave me a resigned smile and rolled his eyes as if to say he wasn't really mad at me for it but was instead very much annoyed by it.

Edward hung his jacket in the coat hanger by the entrance, and I showed him the way into the living room. Once there, he tried to shake Harry's hand, but only found rejection. So he took a seat on the sofa while Harry sat on the armchair, as far away from him as he could. I stayed on my feet, hoping to introduce myself and then make my exit.

"Hi, darling!" He reminded me of Anne by calling me that. "I'm Edward. It's a real pleasure to meet you." Your dad shook my hand and as hard as he tried to concentrate on my face, his eyes kept nervously moving down to my belly.

"I know who you are, sir. I'm Laurel" I responded softly, fighting with all I had to make sure I didn't say anything overly courteous that would offend your brother. I was supposed to show manners but not really allowed to be nice to him.