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It’s an easier decision than it probably should be when Jen decides to turn herself into Detective Perez and leave her family.
She doesn’t really think about it too much, doesn’t worry about whether the boys will be okay – they have Judy, they’ll be fine in the end. They’ll probably be better off without her around to keep screwing things up all the fucking time.
That isn’t why she’s doing this though – she’s selfish enough that she’d stay if there was any possible way she could. But she can’t anymore. She can’t keep pretending that it’s all going to be okay when it’s all just rolling and rolling into something even worse, something more out of control every fucking day.
She just needs everything to stop. Needs it to stop piling up before Judy can blame herself or become even more upset because of Jen, or god-forbid take the fucking blame for her like she was talking about, before Charlie can ask more questions and ends up even more in the middle of everything than he already fucking is.
Before it can all go even more to fucking shit than it already fucking has.
It doesn’t even take long to get everything ready.
It’s like there’s someone else operating her body, tucking Judy into her bed, waiting until her friend is asleep to sneak away and start typing information, all the boring things that Judy definitely already knows but Jen feels the need to write down anyway, the bank details and health insurance and college funds that the family are going to need over the next twenty years or so without her.
She’s finished barely a few minutes later. There’s really not that much you need to do before you turn yourself in for murder, apparently.
It’s not until she’s after she’s done, emergency binder filled with enough practicalities to last a lifetime, everything settled and cleaned and wine glass safely in the dishwasher, that Jen finally settles down to write the letter to her family.
She writes Judy’s first, thinking it will be the hardest, thinking that she won’t know what to say and it’ll take her half the night. In the end, it’s the opposite, and if anything, she almost says too much.
Because it turns out she could write a thousand fucking letters to Judy, could spend forever apologising for all the fucking awful things she’s put her through and thanking her for being this incredible presence in her life, and she’d still probably have more she’d want to say.
But she can’t say all that, she doesn’t have the fucking time if she wants to be out of here before Judy can wake up and do something sweet and stupid like try to stop her. Instead she focuses on the boys, on telling Judy to look after them, to be the parent she was always meant to be.
It’s short. It’s simple. It’s everything that she’s capable of saying to her person in the few lousy sentences she allows herself.
It’s not until she reaches the end, when tries to write ‘I love you’ that Jen has to stop.
She’s known for a while now, what her feelings for Judy are. She’s been trying to find the ‘right’ moment, whatever the fuck that means, to tell her, putting it off again and again to wait for a time when everything isn’t quite so overwhelmingly stressful and difficult, when their lives aren’t being controlled by ‘who killed who’ and the subsequent cover-ups.
Jen’s pretty fucking sure that Judy feels the same way, but she wanted to do this right, to be able to give Judy something happy, something not tied to grief and guilt and sadness, something that she deserves.
Of course she loves Judy. But she also loves Judy, more than wine or old tv shows, more than she ever loved dancing, more than she loves the comfort that hiding behind her anger and repressing her other feelings without naming them has ever given her. More than she loved Ted. More than anything.
Jen’s so in fucking love with Judy Hale.
And now she’ll never get to tell her.
She almost confesses right then and there, in the letter, almost storms back upstairs and wakes Judy up to tell her in person, just so she knows, just so she doesn’t have to keep hiding this for the rest of her fucking life.
But it would be so unfair, to tell her now, right when Jen’s about to go away, right when she’s going to turn herself into the police and be gone for probably twenty fucking years.
Judy already has her mom in jail – she’s not going to make her more attached than she already is to another person in there.
Jen’s one of those people that’d probably refuse to let Judy come and see her at all if she could, to spare Judy the pain. It’s really fucking tempting, stopping Judy from having to see another person she cares about in jail like that. She’d do it, Jen really thinks that she might, except that Judy’s going to have their boys, and Jen’s too selfish to think she could get through twenty years without seeing them at all.
But Jen’s still not going to force Judy into some messed up long-distance fucking prison relationship, not when she can just keep her fucking mouth shut and let Judy get on with her life as best as she can without her.
So, she keeps it simple, makes a joke, sort of, out of her feelings instead. Something that can be played off as friendship, if anyone really wants to look at it that way. Hopefully Judy can look at it that way.
She’s only crying a little bit when she folds the letter into the envelope.
Judy
I don’t know where to begin. I just know this has to end. I know you think you’re the reason all our problems started, but they existed long before we met. And I am go glad that we met. You are the best friend I’ve ever known. The best person I’ve ever known. You’re a better mother to Charlie and Henry than I could ever be. I know they may not be the kids you dreamed of, but I’m hoping you will find it in your enormous heart to take care of them and be their legal guardian
I’m so sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I couldn’t forgive you sooner for Ted. No matter what you think, you’ve paid the price. Now, I need to do the same. I need to confess before one more bad thing happens.
I love you more than wine. Thank you for loving me and our boys.
*
She thought Judy’s letter would be as hard as it gets, but writing Henry’s letter is rough.
How do you explain to a ten year old that their mommy is a fucking murderer, that she did something so terrible he’s not going to be able to see her for fucking decades?
That she’s leaving and not coming back now too, just like his dad did, after she promised that nothing was going to happen to her, that she wouldn’t leave too.
Jen made it through Judy’s letter with minimal tears.
She can barely see the pen on the page through them now, more lines crossed out than legible on the page. She’s gonna have to rewrite it, but there doesn’t seem much point until she’s finally figured out what she’s going to say.
Henry’s letter ends up short. She’s gonna have to explain more in the future, somehow, once he’s a little older. For now, hopefully it’s good enough for him to not be confused, for him to accept it and not inundate Judy with questions, for him to be okay with moving on with his life.
Hey boop,
I love you so much.
I so wish I could be saying this to you in person, hugging you one more time. I’m sorry I’m not brave enough to say goodbye.
Mommy’s going to have to go away for a while.
I made a mistake, a horrible mistake, and I hurt someone and now I have to go and get my punishment for that. I’ll be okay, I won’t be alone, I’ll be with lots of other people. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.
Judy’s going to take great care of you now. I know how much you love her. She loves you too. I know you’ll all be happy together.
I’m so sorry that I won’t be there with you anymore.
I love you baby,
Mommy.
*
Jen leaves Charlie’s letter until last.
It’s never been their thing, talking about emotions and shit like that. But this might be the last chance she has and there is just so much she needs to say to him. To her son, the one growing up so fast, changing so much, quickly becoming a man in front of her.
The one that has already had to grow up so much this past year, without whatever this fucking mess is going to do to him too.
She’s shaking before she even gets his name on the page.
Charlie,
Your life changed so much when your Dad died. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. You shouldn’t have had to say goodbye to your best parent like that. You know that your dad and I weren’t perfect, but I never wanted that for you. I never wanted you to have to go through a loss like that like I did with my mom.
I fucking hate that I have to leave you now too.
I am so sorry.
I did something stupid, so fucking stupid. I killed Steve. You’re old enough now to know things aren’t black and white, that people do awful things for good reasons or the other way around. Steve was a bad man. He hurt Judy, someone we love, and he worked for some really awful people who hurt a lot more.
That doesn’t excuse what I did or mean it was right. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, and now I have to own up and face the consequences of my actions before anything else bad can happen.
I’m probably gonna be gone for a long time so, as much as I fucking hate how patriarchal this is, you are gonna have to be the ‘man of the fucking house’ now, okay? I know I said that was bullshit or whatever, but Judy and Henry are going to need your help. I’ve left all the emergency stuff with her, there’s a plan so you’ll all be okay, but it’s gonna be tough for a while, I know.
It scares me, sometimes, how much you remind me of me. Your anger at everything, the way you let your frustrations get the better of you. It feels so familiar and I’m so scared that you’ll react like I would have.
Don’t take on my mistakes, please Charlie. Don’t do what I would do, don’t get angry at the world and start messing up again because you’re angry at me and what I’ve done. You’ve grown so much this year, you’ve had to, I hate that you’ve had to, but I’m so proud of who you’re becoming. Don’t go backwards just because I did something fucking idiotic like this.
Be better than me.
You can be anything, do anything. You have so much support, from me, from Judy, from Lorna, even.
Judy is our family now. She loves you so much, even if you never let her say it. Don’t give her too much shit, okay? Even when she’s being all clingy and annoying, she means well. She’s just trying to be the mom you guys really deserve. I know she’s going to be even better now that I’m not here in all of your way.
I wish I could stay with you, with all of you.
I know that there’s not that much good to look back on, especially lately. I know that all the awful stuff, that this, is going to overshadow everything that was good. But please, don’t let this define your life. You are so much more than my mistakes. You are so strong. You will get through this and have your own amazing life.
I’m sorry. For fucking up like this, for lying, for leaving you. I wish it could all be different.
Look after your brother. He’s going to need you so much.
I love you, Charlie.
Mom.
*
Jen can’t resist one final walk around the house, looking in on her family at peace one last time.
She goes to Henry’s room first, seeing him asleep, string lights on the wall gently illuminating the room as she walks over to stroke his hair.
She wonders, vaguely, what his hair will be like the next time she gets to touch it, whether it’ll still be as bouncy and full of life or if it’ll already be receding away like Ted’s.
Fuck, she’s going to miss so much.
Jen hasn’t watched her son sleep in a long time, not really, always waiting impatiently for him to be ‘all the way asleep’ so she can run off and cry then drink then join Judy on the outdoor sofa to watch tv. There were somehow always other things she’d rather be doing. That feels a little impossible now.
Eventually, Jen knows she’s gotta go, time really is starting to run out, and before she knows it she’s leaning back in to kiss Henry’s cheek lightly, breathing him in one last time and reluctantly walking out the door.
She doesn’t allow herself a second to breath, not wanting to waste any more time, instead quickly crossing the hall to Charlie’s room and carefully opening the door. Charlie’s sat there at his desk, as always, facing away from her, noise-cancelling headphones she regrettably bought him last Christmas over his ears, videogame controller in hand, quietly yelling at whatever violent thing he’s playing.
She watches for a moment; Charlie too lost in his own world to notice she’s there. He’s happy. It’s a nice last memory to have of him, she tries not to think.
It’s a little like tempting fate though, standing here when he could turn around at any moment, so she backs out of the room as quietly as she entered, before he can notice that she was ever there.
She’s not the type of mother that says things like ‘the best thing I ever did was you’ or ‘the best day of my life was the day I had you’. She hates the women that spout that bullshit – the best day of her life was not the day she spent 18 hours in labour.
But fuck, if looking at her kids and not knowing when she’s next going to be allowed to see them doesn’t make her want to say shit like that, doesn’t make everything else that she thought was important feel fucking insignificant.
Almost everything else, she thinks as she opens the last door at the end of the hall, stepping into the room to see Judy still asleep on Jen’s bed.
It feels like hours, fucking days even, since Jen left her, but Judy looks like no time has passed at all, completely unmoved from where Jen left her.
It’s a strange feeling, knowing Judy is at peace, thinking Jen is still beside her when really she’s been busy tearing their entire lives into two.
Jen hates it.
She leaves the letters with the binder on the bed, in the spot that she should currently be sleeping in, the spot where Judy is going to expect her to be in in the morning. She tries not to think about Judy finding them, about what her reaction will be, how she’ll call out for Jen in confusion and search for her, how she’ll eventually read the letter and it’ll sink in what Jen has done.
The image is enough to make Jen want to take the letters and go throw them on her trusty fire in the backward.
What the fuck is she doing? Why is she putting Judy through this shit?
Stop it. Jen thinks. You know you have to fucking do this. You’re doing it.
There is nothing that can stop Jen from going up to Judy again though, she can’t resist the urge to be near her one last time.
You’re going to fucking wake her up, Jen! she tells herself, but keeps moving closer anyway, needing the comfort of Judy’s touch again, needing it with a desperation Jen didn’t know she could have for another person.
She reaches out to brush the hair away from her face, to run a hand over Judy’s cheek one last time, but she can’t do it.
She can’t risk it.
She can’t risk Judy waking up and trying to stop Jen from doing what needs to be done. Jen knows she doesn’t have the strength to do this if Judy is in front of her, eyes wide, begging her not too.
And she needs to do this. Jen needs to put this right. For Judy, for the boys. For everyone.
Jen pulls her hand away at the last moment.
Enough.
That’s enough.
“I killed Steve Wood,” Jen admits twenty minutes later.