“The day that the Colonel died we were in the bedroom, and I was getting him dressed. He lifted up his hand and pointed at his dresser. I thought he wanted to look at the photo album, so I picked it up and put it in his lap. He looked at it and pointed again to the dresser. He never said anything; he just kept pointing. I opened the top drawer of his dresser and found this.” Seven concluded his monologue and waited for his grandmother to respond.
Gran stared at the letters. She sat in a growing environment of uncomfortable silence. Her spirit had gone from excited anticipation to total destruction in a matter of moments. She thought about the countless conversations that she had with her husband throughout her grandson’s life. The Colonel rarely took issue with anything with his wife, but since the arrival of the first letter he maintained that the boy should be told that his father was alive and the situation that involved him. It was Gran who developed the story of the death of Seven’s father. It was she who had spent the boy’s lifetime lying to him. She felt the same at the current moment sitting at the kitchen table as she had always felt. Seven was better off not knowing the horrible truth about his father. Nothing good could possibly come from it. She recalled the heated discussions between her and the Colonel about the letters. The Colonel always disagreed with her decision, but as always, he never defied her, not until the last day of his life.
“You’ve read them,” she said, breaking the silence.
Seven replied yes without taking his eyes off the letters at the center of the table. He feared his grandmother’s death stare or look of disappointment. He wasn’t sure which she was producing at the time, but he feared both.
“I don’t know what’s in those letters, son, we never opened them. I don’t know what’s in there, but I know the truth about everything. Your grandfather and I thought it was best if you didn’t know the truth because it’s awful. We didn’t want that to be all that you remembered of your parents. Your mother was my beautiful daughter who passed away before her life even began. We only wanted you to