I pick up the letter again, scanning the lines I penned so long ago, the vague phrasing and carefully chosen words—words meant for another man—and I imagine Hemi reading them for the first time. My throat aches as I realize how easy it would have been to believe they’d been meant for him and the gut-wrenching pain they must have caused. I try to wrap my head around it. How could it have happened? And then I remember Corinne coming into my room while I was writing the letters and how she was still there, tidying up, when I returned from the bathroom. “My sister,” I say, knowing it’s true. “She
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there's you go. sad and then, yes! finally! vindicated!! you can both be happy now and hate your sister together! you only lost 40 years over this
