write a letter to anyone about anything
Dear Adam Gray, Esq.
I haven't seen you in perhaps three years, almost four.I'd say I hoped this letter finds you well, but it would be a lie.Certainly those come easy to me, but one of my New Year's resolutions was to avoid hypocrisy when it gains me nothing.
You weren't there when Madelyn O'Rourke--remember her? The Slayer assigned to work with your daughter? was killed.
Small but real blessings. Yes, I call her a Slayer, not a "candidate." She fought as bravely as Buffy Summers or Faith, and never gave up. She more than earned the title.
I've had reason to think about what courage means, and whether, as you insist, there is such a thing as destiny. If so, I'm tempted to think that yours is to be a damned
coward. Not that it matters much now.
The saying "beware what you wish for" comes to mind these days. You wanted a son who wouldn't be a burden or embarrassment to you. You wanted to be sure Anne would never fail in her duty or bring shame to your precious reputation. You wanted your bloodline
continued.
Well, I'd say you can rest your old, rigid bones behind your desk in London, and be
content. I am happy here; barring dire emergency, the day I go back to England for more than a very brief visit will be the day hell freezes solid and diamonds grow on
thornbushes. (One of Vi's sayings.)
I do have a child. Your grandson. Of course, you have no idea he exists. If I have anything to say about it, you never will see him. He is beautiful, lovable and knows how to laugh. What it is to have a father who loves him more than anything on earth.
I suppose I should thank you, if for nothing else, teaching me what one does not do in raising a child.
I'm not grateful. No, I don't forgive you. Assuming you'd ever swallow your own arrogance enough to admit...
I still have nightmares about some of it. My first lover, when I was in my late teens--oh, there haven't been so many as you might think--tried to help me chase them away.
No, I never actually told him what they were about, despite your fears to the contrary.
I didn't talk to him about you. You weren't worth the effort.
I am a Watcher, despite your ideas that I wasn't strong enough, wasn't capable of learning. "Immoral and weak", because most of the time I prefer men to women.
I have family, and friends, despite your belief that no one else would accept me, that I had no alternative but to live my life by your rules or be shunned.
You
old
fool.
Enjoy your holidays, Adam. They will, if nothing else, be extraordinarily peaceful, I'm sure.
--Eric Gray.
Eric looks at the paper he's written, shrugs, and tosses it into the fireplace in
his living room, where a small but hot fire burns.
Across the room, Joshua's asleep in his playpen. Gray goes over to check on him, not
sparing the letter another thought.