This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write. I’ve always felt like it’s my job to be cheerful and upbeat, but the truth is that I have been miserable for a long time. I’ve always hated face-to-face confrontations—or even conversations about difficult subjects—and that’s why I’m putting down these thoughts on (digital) paper.

Having my own child has made me think so much about what influences you when you’re growing up. It’s made me think about you and Mom—for better and worse. When I think back on my childhood, it’s with resentment. There’s no way to erase the bad years, but I’m grateful for the ways you’ve changed. I wish you’d been the man you are now when I was growing up.

I know Deirdre is difficult, but it’s up to you to make amends with her. I know you think she hates you and wants nothing to do with you, but it’s on you to get past that. We are the way we are because of how you were. If anything happens to me, I want you two to be extensively involved in raising Teddy.

I love you,

Caro

Of all the things I was expecting, that message wasn’t it. I gawped at it. When I glanced at my father, I realized he was astonished too. We were a pair of fish who’d leaped into uncharted territory and discovered we couldn’t breathe there.

“What do you think she meant?” he asked. “About being miserable. Was that about Theo? She was always a happy person. Caro could light up any room.”

“Happy isn’t the same as cheerful,” I answered grimly. “As she points out in the first paragraph.”

“Was she still angry with me? I thought we were on good terms.”

If he was looking for comfort, he was searching in the wrong place. I didn’t answer. I was too busy seething. I know Deirdre is difficult. Caro had always played the role of the good daughter, while I’d been cast as the bad one. Yet there she was, writing that she’d felt the same way I had as a child. We should’ve been each other’s allies. Instead, we’d been estranged for years. Maybe I was the difficult one, but I wasn’t the dishonest one.

“What do you think she meant about resentment?” he added. “I thought we were close. I always told her she could tell me if she needed help.”

That was the last straw.

“Help, from you? You are literally the last person in the world anyone would turn to for help.”

“Deirdre . . .”