Chapter 40 40

Now she sat back suddenly in her chair at the table, put her hands over her eyes, and began to cry.She cried for about ten minutes—loud, heart-pounding weeping in the deserted room—and then she started typing again.From time to time, she wiped her tear-filled eyes with her arm, trying to clear the blurred vision.After a while, she began to hold back her tears. So I leaned forward and spat in his face.But it wasn't just a spit, I actually hit him with a small spit.I don't think he even noticed this.But that's okay.I didn't do it for him, did I? I will have to pay a fine for violating a fundamental human right.Blanton said it might be a hefty fine.But Brandon himself got away with it, only to be reprimanded.That was far more important to me than any fine I might have to pay because, more or less, I wrung his hands behind my back and forced him into the hearing.

I think that's the way it is, and that's the way it will be in the end.I think I really intend to send this letter off, and then anxiously await your reply in the next few weeks.All those years ago, I treated you unfairly.While it's not strictly my fault - I've only recently realized how often and to what extent we are influenced by others despite our pride in our capacity for self-control and self-reliance, I would say I I feel sorry.And, I'll tell you something else, something I've really come to believe.ie: I'll be fully recovered, not today, not tomorrow, not next week, but eventually I'll be back to normal.Anyway, as normal as a state we mortals are entitled to.It’s good to know that—to know that survival is still a choice, and that it’s good to be alive, sometimes.Sometimes being alive feels like winning something.

I love you, dear Ruth.Last October, you, and your unkind conversations went a long way in saving my life, even though you didn't know it.I love you very much. Your old friend: Jesse And: Please write to me.Still, better call... ok? Ten minutes later, she typed the letter, sealed it in a manila envelope (it was too bulky for a normal-length business envelope), and placed it on the table in the lobby.She had got Ruth's address from Carol Ritterhouse, scrawling the envelope as carefully as her left hand could.Beside the letter, she placed a carefully written note in the same scrawled handwriting.

McGee: Please mail this letter.If I call downstairs and ask you not to send it, please say yes...and send it anyway. Before going upstairs, she went to the living room window and stood there for a moment, looking out over the bay, where it was beginning to darken.For the first time in a long time, there was no trace of fear in consciousness. "Oh, what a nuisance," she said to the empty room, "it's night." Then she turned and walked slowly up the stairs to the second floor. An hour later, when McGee came back from an errand, she saw the letter on the table in the front hall.Upstairs in the guest room, Jessie was fast asleep under two duvets...she now called this room her room.For the first time in months, her dreams were far from horror and unhappiness, and a silly smile played on her lips.When the cold February wind blew under the eaves and howled in the chimney, she snuggled comfortably under the quilt again, but the elusive smile did not fade away.