I was sobbing now. Ugly, raw sobs I hadn’t let out in twelve years.
“He made me promise to tell you he wasn’t scared. That he was thinking about you. That he was grateful for everything.” Thomas held out the letter. “And he made me promise to give you this. Said it was important. Said you’d understand.”
“Mom, if you’re reading this, then Morrison kept his promise. That means you can trust him. I’m leaving something with him. Something important. He doesn’t know what it is. I hid it in his gear. When you get this letter, ask him about the wooden box in his storage unit. The one he’s never opened. Tell him David says it’s time. I love you forever. Your son, David.
P.S. – Mom, Morrison is going to blame himself for my death. Don’t let him. He’s the best man I’ve ever known. He saved my life a dozen times before this. This time was just my time.”
I looked at Thomas. “What wooden box?”
His eyes widened. “I have a box. Found it in my gear when I got home from the hospital. Figured someone had put it there by mistake. It’s been in my storage unit ever since. Sealed. Never opened it.”
“We need to go get it.”
“Mrs. Chen, I can barely move. Three bikers jumped me at a gas station last night. Thought I was someone else. I fought back but…” He gestured to his injuries.
“Then I’m driving.” I stood up, suddenly filled with purpose. “Can you make it to my car?”
“I think so.”
The storage unit was small, packed with military gear and motorcycle parts. In the back corner was a wooden box, about the size of a shoebox, sealed with tape.
“David must have slipped it into my pack that last day,” Thomas said. “Crafty kid.”
I opened it carefully. Inside was another letter, a small journal, and something wrapped in cloth.
Continue reading…
