Recipient: Subject 13R182, Ivan Reichman
Sender: Karen Reichman, Wife, Age: 41
Date of receipt: 8-8-2015
Transcript
Dear Ivan,
I think you know what
this letter has to say. I can't be with you anymore. I know that reading that
hurts. It hurts me to write it. I also know what you're thinking, we've talked
about it so many times: I still don't blame you for what happened crossed out: to our little baby to Brin. I can't
blame you for being what you are, and I know you don't believe me, but I still love
you.
I just can't move on if
we're still connected. Every time I think of you, I think of her. She had your
eyes, Ivan, and I can't see your eyes without my heart breaking because I won't
see hers ever again.
Ivan, I can't see other
little girls in the street, healthy little girls, without thinking about our
baby--how skinny she was at the end, and how picking her up was like nothing;
like she was a little paper girl with legs like little stic—
I'm sorry. I had to stop
for a minute. I almost tore this letter up, but I can't. I have to end it.
I'm not leaving you crossed out: because you're different crossed out: because
your power is so because you have powers. I'm leaving because I need a
new life, and I can't have that if I'm constantly reminded of the past. Lots of
couples split up after they lose a child. It doesn't mean one of them is to
blame.
I'm moving. I can’t tell
you where. Please don’t try and find me. It’s not healthy for either one of us.
This break needs to be clean. And you have to understand it’s for the better.
When I think about us, try to think about the life we could have when you get
back from where you are, all I can see are hazmat suits and sterile rooms.
I’m so sorry, Ivan. I
know it’s selfish, but I want a husband I can touch. How could we ever make
love again, even if we could do it without thinking about Brin? Diseases might
not be scary for you anymore, but I’m not superhuman. How ironic is it that
some housewives have to worry about their husbands bringing home VD because
they can’t keep it in their pants, and I got one of the faithful ones, but I
can’t even crossed out: fuck make love to my
husband because I might get Ebola or the Bubonic Plague?
It’s not fair to either
of us. I hope, after the divorce comes through, that you find someone else,
like you, who you can be with and be happy. I’m sorry it can’t be me.
Crossed out: Yours,
Love,
Karen
