Amy’s parents were both excited to have her home, but she remained focused on her “mission” and headed to the school as soon as possible. Her sister-in-law escorted her. Inside, the school’s hallways were exactly as Amy had remembered. She felt “robotic,” devoid of the “swell of emotion” (228) she had anticipated. She wandered past the classrooms and into the auditorium where Bess Taylor had presented her with the award. The bathroom that was so vivid to her was the most changed. The door had been removed and replaced with a partition entryway. The interior had been remodeled, and the sinks, windows, and floors had been replaced. This change was a relief to Amy, softening the shock of being back in the place that held such terrible memories. She lingered one last time in the hallway before she “walked out of the shadows and into the light” (232).

Next, Amy’s sister-in-law drove her to her childhood home. The new owners let her in, and Amy wandered into her childhood bedroom. Although her childhood had been filled with “pain, secrecy, and shame” (234), the house was also full of “beautiful memories.”

The next morning, Amy ate a cherry-glazed donut she had loved in her childhood and picked up takeout from a local taco place to bring to her meeting with Claudia. On their way, her mother drove her by the family’s newest convenience store. It was “fancier” and “shinier” than Amy had imagined, filled with new brands and products. She had always thought of her hometown as “a place time had forgotten” (235), but she understood that a lot had changed. Her family’s stores had taught her “that things were better when they were convenient” (236) but now she knew that utter perfection was not a necessity.

Amy arrived early, nervous to meet with Claudia. She reminded herself that she didn’t need any particular result, although she hoped that Claudia might confirm her story in some way. She also knew that her story might be hard for Claudia to hear, especially if she had experienced something similar. When the other woman arrived, they made awkward small talk until Amy finally told Claudia that she was trying to process some memories from middle school and hoped to share them with Claudia. Although Claudia repeated that she remembered very little from that period of her life, Amy launched into the story of her own abuse.

As she shared her story, she noticed that Claudia “leaned back, as if trying to get away from [her]” (241). Amy told her the significance that Claudia held in her memory and promised her that she needed nothing from the other woman. However, she continued to hope that Claudia’s “stoic” façade would crack and that she would confess that they had shared the experience or that she would assure Amy that nothing had happened to her. Finally, Claudia began to cry and said that she remembered Amy as the only person who was kind to her; she wished that she could have helped Amy in return. Amy realized that Claudia’s stoicism stemmed from her guilt that she couldn’t remember more or help Amy. However, Amy continued to wonder why Claudia played such a strong role in her memories. Suddenly, she realized that her decision to loan Claudia the dress was an example of her “essential” self: the part of her “that no abuse could ever harm” (244) or erase.

Seeing the school helped Amy to let go of any lingering doubt. Later, she returned to Texas for a girls’ trip with her closest childhood friends and her sister, Lizzie. She came home feeling as if she “had made [her] peace with Texas” (246). In her next session with Lauren, her therapist again offered the deck of animal cards. This time, Amy drew the whale, “the ultimate wise and knowing feminine card” and “[a] testament to all the work” (246) Amy had done.

Amy was navigating her recovery, but she soon encountered another obstacle when she received a mysterious postcard in the mail with the message “‘I don’t understand why I was given an award for being kind to someone. I mean, isn’t that what you are supposed to do?’ —Amy, circa 7th grade” (247). On the back, in tiny, upside-down letters, the sender had written, “I didn’t have it in me to tell you the truth” (247).

Amy was sure that the postcard was from Claudia. She felt a combination of “relief, grief, [and] pure adrenaline” (249). Here was the validation she had so desperately wanted, but there was something wrong with this “perfect ending.” She couldn’t be sure the card was from Claudia. It could have been from Bess Taylor or even Lizzie. She wondered if it could all be a “cruel joke.” Finally, she texted Claudia, thanking her for her courage and offering her support. She didn’t receive a reply. A week later, she texted again. This time, Claudia responded, simply thanking Amy and telling her all was well. Confused, Amy asked her directly about the postcard, but Claudia claimed she didn’t send it.

Amy was more confused than ever. Her friend Courtney suggested they send someone to Claudia’s house to steal a handwriting sample, and Amy laughed but was tempted. However, Gracie helped her to see that the postcard was “everything” she had wanted. Even if she didn’t know who sent it, she knew she wasn’t alone. Amy saw that her desperation to find the sender was another example of her tendency to “push;” although she was better in many ways, she still had lessons to learn.

Amy also understood why the sender didn’t want to share their secret directly, and she knew why Claudia might have denied sending the card. There were “many layers to awareness,” and one had to make “remembering […] a practice” (254). This took an incredible amount of courage.

Amy continued sharing her story with others. It made her relationships stronger, but the telling was always a “gift to [her]self” (255). Oftentimes, people commended her bravery, saying they wouldn’t want to remember something that had been buried so deeply. Amy, however, never regretted uncovering her memories. Coming to terms with her past allowed her to “more fully touch the joy” (260) of life. In telling the truth, Amy “had set [her]self free.” After decades of striving for perfection, she was learning “to live with the uncertainty” (262) and to understand that individuals are perfect just as they are.