Washington, D.C., September 1918 by Pat West
I unpacked Franklin’s suitcase
and discovered your packet of letters—
bound in a red ribbon. The words that
passed between you are carved into my
memory as if a knife drove them
there. He wrote me beautiful letters,
once. Pursued me and made me feel
desired. Don’t look surprised.
Emotions are not foreign to me. I too
know what it’s like to want someone.
Even though I never thought that
I could keep him, I wanted Franklin
more than I wanted anything.
I married him, because I liked how
I looked in his eyes, better than my
own. I suspected for some time, long
before I found the packet. A wife knows.
After I read the letters, I felt empty—
devoid of hope that I was enough.
I confronted Franklin and demanded
that he not see you. He refused. I offered
to file for divorce. That’s when Sarah
became involved. She brokered a
negotiation—asked that I make peace
with his actualities. It was her threat
of disinheritance that caused his change
of heart, or rather, mind. He agreed to end
the affair. You see, Lucy, Franklin
remains more faithful to his mother
and money than either of us.
