CHAPTER 13: A FEW LETTERS
Dear Christian,
How are you? Despite being the one who came up with the idea of this facility, I feel a little anxious, about not being able to reach you. It was different when I moved out because I knew you were okay and going on with your life. Now, I know that you haven't been okay and I'm worried. I hope you are not mad at me for forcing your hand on this.
I was hesitant to write about what's going on with the baby because you told me you don't want to know. But then again, you also told me to write you about my life, and to be frank, my life revolves around being pregnant. Merida -my therapist- suggested that I just write what I want to and you can skip reading those parts or tell me not to write if it bothers you.
I'm officially 25 weeks pregnant, and my daughter is the size of a cucumber. Although my last ultrasound showed that she'll probably be taller than her peers based on her measurements. I'm not happy for myself -since a bigger baby means a harder delivery- but I'm happy for her, you know I'm on the shorter side and it's not cool. Every dress I try on looks better on Kate because she's taller. It's cute to think that my daughter is going to be someone else's Kate. Speaking of Kate, I introduced her to Jean this week. She was apologetic for not spending time with me but I understand that we are in different stages of our lives and she's busy. The three of us went to eat and did some shopping for pregnancy clothes. None of my jeans fit me anymore, can you believe it? I guess you'll be happy about that though, I remember you hated how skinny I used to be pre-pregnancy. Not anymore. Yay.
I planted some flowers and herbs in the garden, it was so messy because I didn't know what I was doing but it calmed me, I liked touching the soil. I felt like it grounded me, you know. I'm sending you a drawing of how it looks now. I hope they grow until the baby comes here, I'd like to raise her barefoot on grass and between flowers.
I'm not sure if you are talking to your parents but Grace invited me for lunch, and I said no. I hope you are not offended but I don't appreciate how they acted when I expressed concern about her not respecting my privacy. I feel like my saying no should've been enough. I shouldn't have to explain all my reasoning to her. She apologized but Merida says that an apology doesn't guarantee immediate forgiveness. Do you think saying no makes me petty?
Elliot and Mia also called, they want to come to one of my appointments to see the baby. I also said no. Kate came one time but other than that, I was always alone, it feels weird to think about other people there with me. It's very intimate, you know? I don't want to share this experience, I don't know. It's just her and me, I like it that way. But I'll be going for a 3D ultrasound in my 30th week, I promised them to get extra copies so they could see how she'll look. I'm very excited for that.
I had a nightmare a few days ago, I saw you shouting at me and telling me that you hate me because I forced you to go there and you won't see me ever again. I woke up crying and hurting. Do you hate me? I hope you don't. I hope you know that I want to see you healed. I think you have an old soul -my dad thinks I do, too- but I'd like to see you acting your age like you sometimes did with me. Do you remember our Marvel movie marathons? Or when you took me to parasailing? I'd like to see you carefree and laughter in your eyes. I want to see you have a good rest every night instead of positioning yourself mentally with the most horrible people you know in your life. I'd like to have you in my life, although I know we agreed to go low contact after the baby is here.
Please don't hate me.
I know you don't love me but I think I can't handle you hating me.
I didn't expect to get so vulnerable but writing tends to do that to me.
Please take care of yourself there.
-Anastasia
Dear Anastasia,
Of course, I don't hate you. I don't think I ever can. I'm not mad at you anymore, for telling my parents and coming up with the idea of a facility. You didn't force me to do anything, I already agreed with you when you told me your idea. I just wanted to tease you, this is why I asked what if I don't want to go? I didn't know that it would cause you such worries. Please know that I'm thankful that you had the guts to do what I should've done years ago.
I'm sorry I didn't reply last week. My first week here had been tough. We have a strict schedule, everyone wakes up, eats, and sleeps at the same time. I have intense therapy sessions with different people but strangely enough, my biggest epiphany came because of my roommate. I threw a "hissy fit" when I heard that I was going to have a roommate because I paid a lot of money for this facility and they couldn't even give me privacy. But they were adamant that it'd be more helpful so I had no choice but to relent. I didn't even have a roommate in my first semester at Harvard, I had my own apartment. My roommate's name is Ronald. He's 16 and he hurts himself. His father was an alcoholic who shot his mother and then himself when Ron was 10 years old. He's been in foster homes for years, he came here thanks to a charity program. I'm not downplaying his trauma but Anastasia, he's so dramatic and so… I don't know, I don't have the right word for it but he's acting like his whole life is over meanwhile having so much time to fix things and himself, and build a good life. Spending all my free time with him was like a bucket of ice-cold water poured down on me. I thought I was mature, that I was already a man when I was 15. I wasn't, I was just a traumatized kid.
I didn't react well to this understanding. They had to sedate me and put me in a private room for a few days. I don't want to worry you but they have been telling me that it's important to be honest with important people in our lives and you are the most important person in my life.
After a few more intense sessions and breakdowns, I finally saw what you've been trying to tell me. What made my parents and siblings horrified? I was groomed. It feels weird to use this word to describe what happened, but it is what it is. I can't look at Ron and imagine believing that he willingly chose to be beaten down and used as a fuck toy. That he "consented" to be a submissive or a dominant. I'm nearly 30 and I can't imagine looking at him and seeing something sexual. And Elena was older than I am now.
I'm still getting used to accepting what happened but at least I'm not denying it anymore. We are calling it a progress.
I talked to my parents, yes. And no, you are not petty because you chose to say no. I think it's very understandable how upset you still are. You are the only person who's responsible for your social life and you owe my family nothing. Please be assured that I'll always support you.
And I'm sorry for the way I acted back when I talked to you about boundaries. You were right in slapping me the therapist I talked to thinks that you should've done more. Flynn also came to the same conclusion but I ignored him: I wanted you to tell me that you want me to be a part of your pregnancy. But I didn't want to admit to myself or to you that I wanted it. So in my head, it was going to go down like this: I tell you I want nothing to do with the baby, you tell me I can't because you don't want to be alone, I'm going to change my mind and be the hero. It went against the scenario in my head, when you said ok. I see how stupid it is now, but then, I was so angry at you. I'm sorry I drove you away. I really wanted to be there for you during your pregnancy. And not just because I didn't want you to be alone but also because I seriously wanted to be there. I guess it's too late now, isn't it? I'm too unpredictable, especially with all these outbursts and breakdowns so I don't think you'll let me be there. Regardless, I'm happy to listen to what you want to tell me.
I'm glad you are gaining weight, you and the baby need it. Please don't forget to use the card, to buy a whole new wardrobe. I want you to enjoy your pregnancy as much as you can.
I'm always awestruck by how talented you are. The drawing you sent me looks so realistic. My dad bought me basil in a pot when I was in primary school, and he showed me when you rub your hand gently at the leaves and smell your hand, it smells very good. I remember how surprised I was, by the way the plant kept smelling even when I was rubbing it 5 times a day. I always wondered how it didn't lose its smell. Seeing the basils in the corners of your garden reminded me of that. Walking barefoot on the grass is good, it takes the nervous energy in your body. But please tell Sawyer to check the garden first. You could be seriously hurt by a loose nail or a piece of broken glass.
I know I could've easily picked up the phone and called you, but it felt very intimate to open your letter and see your handwriting. I missed it. You used to write the shopping list on the fridge door when we lived together, I always liked seeing it. Also, I'm worried that I'm going to chicken out and close off again if I call you. Is it okay if we keep writing?
I miss you and I think about you.
Take care of yourself and the baby.
-Your penpal
Christian
Dear Christian,
Of course, it's okay! I admit, I missed hearing your voice but I also liked seeing this vulnerable side of you when you are writing. Paper and pen have this side effect, you want to pour your heart out. And I feel lucky that I can read yours.
I'm glad that Ron could help you understand what happened. It made perfect sense to me, honestly. You know how you think you know everything and you are so smart one moment, but the next year you look back and see how dumb you were. I think because of your isolation from your peers, you didn't have the time and opportunities for this. It's probably the first time you were forced to interact with a 16-year-old. I'm not happy that you need to go through this rough process but I'm happy for you. By the way, how is it that you can call him Ron, short for Ronald but Ana for Anastasia is too much to ask? I'd draw you an eye-rolling emoji if I didn't think it was tacky. Sawyer offered to send my letter by courier but I think it takes from the soul of sending letters, to skip the envelopes, to skip the stamps and writings made by the post office. They give me a nostalgic feeling, I like it. So I said no, but I still paid for express delivery at the post office. I know, I know. Hypocrite much?
I'm very surprised to read about why did you get so mad on that day. I've always thought that it was because you wanted me to be there for sex. I didn't know what to make of your desire to be a part of the pregnancy because I always assumed that you wanted nothing to do with my pregnancy or baby. You say you want to be a part of it, but to what extent? For your information, I'm not against co-parenting. And please don't think that I'm not having breakdowns, I cried for an ice cream commercial yesterday because the kid picked the strawberry and I thought how sad chocolate ice cream must be for not having picked up. Surely, your breakdowns make more sense than that. Just think about it and tell me, we can find a middle ground. That's our superpower, I guess. We always find a middle ground.
Not much happened this week, I'm at 28 weeks and my baby is in the size of a cauliflower.
I miss you and I think about you.
Focus on getting better.
Your over-emotional penpal,
-Anastasia
Dear Ana, (happy, now?)
I can call you Ana, of course, but I won't. Because Ana is such a mainstream name for such an exceptional woman. I always hated how everyone around you calls you that. It feels like diminishing your glory. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I can always call you Rose, I guess? That's beautiful too. But knowing you, you'll tell me to call you RoRo or something equally absurd. (I'd draw an eye-rolling emoji here if I knew how.)
Wanting to send a letter through the post office is such an old-dated idea but it's so "you" that it made me smile. Of course, now I have to use the postal service inside the facility. The things I do for you, Miss Steele...
About the baby, I'm sorry but I don't think I'm fit to be a father. I still have a long way to go for recovery and children are too delicate to try stuff on them. But I'd like to see you all the time in your pregnancy. Can I move in with you this time? I promise I'll be on my best behavior. I know you said that being there for the ultrasounds is too intimate for others and I understand that. But can I come with you to the office? I'll wait for you outside and you can show me the photos if you'd like. It's okay if you don't want to, I'll be content just being there. I'm supposed to be in the facility in that period but I asked around and they told me I can get a day out for the ultrasound. Just think about it, and let Taylor know, so he can get my permission if you decide to let me.
I think I'm going to be working less once I get out of here.
Ron told me something along the lines of, "Money doesn't buy you happiness but it buys you the time to do things you want to" and it made me think about how my whole life is my work. I'm trying not to brag but I already have an empire. I can get a COO and just take more time for myself. I just need to find out a few things to do. I like sailing and flying but I kind of already know what's there to know about them. I need a new hobby, any suggestions?
You probably don't want to hear it but one of the therapists I saw made a very shocking statement. I thought that I liked beating down women who looked like my mother because I hated them and I was a horrible human being. She said "You do those things, but you also provide them. You are generous, you give them vehicles, clothes, and food, and you pay for their education. You also provide for the women who look like your mother. Maybe you are trying to save her, too?" I denied this for a few minutes but then I remembered how I braided the submissives' hair like I braided my mom's. It felt so fucked up but then my whole life is. No, I have a good life. I have money, I'm healthy and I have people who love me. Anyway, that night I had different dreams. I'm not sure if they are memories I pushed down or my imagination. I saw my mother taking me out to the park, I picked up rocks I liked on our way back and put them in my pockets. We went home and drew faces on them. She baked me a chocolate cake for my birthday one time. I wished to have some clothes that weren't sticky when I blew my candles. And I remember sitting in the emergency room after I understood that they weren't making my mother better and she wasn't coming back, and thinking that I wasted my birthday wish. After Grace took me home bathed me and dressed me, I laid down in the soft bed for the first time and cried, begging God that I didn't want clean clothes, I wanted my mom back. All of these memories made me feel so sad for the little boy I used to be. And have more compassion for the teenage boy who trusted the wrong people, like you said.
Life is pretty boring here.
Missing you and thinking about you.
Your penpal who's twiddling his thumbs
-Christian
Dear Christian,
You made me first blush and then cry with your letter.
I don't how you'll take this but I started to think a lot about your mother also. When I started to go to my appointments alone, baby clothes shopping alone, and try to decide on names alone. I have a father who'll be there the second I call him and tell him I feel lonely. I have two best friends, I have my baby's grandparents, uncle, and aunt who'd be there if I called. And yet, it makes me feel so lonely and desperate sometimes. (Miranda says it's normal.) I keep thinking of being penniless and truly alone. Your mother didn't protect you, you are completely right in getting mad and upset about this. But she couldn't even protect herself. Maybe she isn't this monster you make her out to be. Maybe she was just a lost, lonely mother. Grace told me that your mother was probably around 16 when she gave birth to you. Can you imagine your Ronald with a baby? Broke and alone with a baby, homeless? You don't owe people who hurt you any compassion, please don't get me wrong. Maybe being pregnant makes me lose my mind, I don't know.
I liked how you corrected yourself in your letter. My thought process got better a lot when I started to learn how to create a counter-voice that would fight the mean one in my head. It's a sign you are getting better. I'm proud of you.
I support your decision to take some time off work. How about a vacation first? I know you told me you traveled a lot but I'm sure traveling has a different meaning in the workaholic CEO dictionary. I'm talking about a relaxing one. Maybe you can figure out what you enjoy doing then?
I said the ultrasound experience was intimate for people outside. You are my daughter's father. Of course, you can see her with me. I gave Taylor details. I'll be waiting for you at the office next week.
I'm officially in my third trimester. I'm getting close to the end. I can't wait.
My daughter is the size of an eggplant this week.
Your anxious penpal,
Anastasia.
Dear Anastasia,
I'm sorry if I came across as stoic during our short meeting at the doctor last week.
I had a lot to say in my mind but I couldn't say any before it was time for me to return to the facility.
Firstly, you are so beautiful, it made my heart ache. I know you told me you were bigger but I didn't expect this much. I finally understood what other people meant when they talked about "the pregnancy glow", your skin, your hair, everything, everything looked amazing and very beautiful. I always thought red suits you and your dress made you even lovelier. I'm sorry I didn't get to tell this to your face. You are so beautiful. Pregnancy suits you.
Secondly, I'm sorry I cried when I saw the ultrasound. It wasn't fair to you, since it's also the first time seeing your daughter in 3D. You had to console me when you were surprised and happy, too. I'm sorry I stole your thunder. But Anastasia, she looked... She looked so cute and so real! I don't know why but it didn't register to me that you were carrying a real, actual baby until I saw her on the screen and heard her heartbeat. It felt like something life-altering. I can't get it out of my mind for the past 3 days. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me be there and taking a copy of the photo for myself. I keep it in my pocket all the time. Thank you.
I'm sorry I don't have a lot of words.
Your daughter is 30 weeks this week. She'll be there in 9 weeks.
Your awestruck penpal
Christian
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pissed.
Date: May 17, 2024 14:05 EST
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia,
I was so mad at you that I wrote a letter full of angry pen strokes but Taylor told me he didn't post it, he destroyed it. At these types of times, I don't know whether I should fire him or give him a raise.
Why didn't you tell me that you were diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and you have been on bedrest for the past 2 weeks?! I've been worrying my head off, thinking that I offended you or scared you away with my tears in the appointment because I didn't receive a reply. Meanwhile, you passed out in your shower, fell, hit your head, and had been taken to hospital? How could you keep something like this from me, I don't know.
But you won't be allowed to anymore. I don't care if you like it or not, I'm getting out of here today and moving in with you tomorrow. You are getting this as an e-mail because I don't have the patience anymore for the papers.
You are seriously mistaken if you hoped that this facility would take the control freak out of me.
-Christian Grey, pissed and mad CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.