The first postcard arrives in October.
A photograph of the Amalfi Coast. Cliffside buildings cascading into turquoise water. On the back, Layla's handwriting.
Vi, I'm here. Really here. It's beautiful and terrifying and I'm doing the work. Therapy three times a week. No contact with anyone from before. Just me and the sea and figuring out who I am. Thank you for not hating me. L.
I stick it on the fridge with a magnet. Liam sees it that evening.
"Layla?"
"Layla. She's in Italy. Says she's doing the work."
"How do you feel about that?"
I think about it. "Glad, I think. Glad she's getting help. Glad she's far away. Both things can be true."
The second postcard comes two weeks later. The Colosseum at sunset.
I got a job at a gallery. Small one. They don't know who I am or what I did.
