Chapter 18 - Dad Comes Home
Dad left federal custody after serving his sentence and transition period.
He looked smaller.
Not spiritually.
Physically.
Gray.
Thin.
He moved back with Mom.
No trust management.
No business role.
No ability to sign for family property.
He requested to see me.
I agreed in Sarah’s office.
Not home.
He sat.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Coming.”
I waited.
Then he said:
“I read Laurel’s old letters.”
Mom had kept them.
“What did you learn?”
“That I knew better.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“I kept telling myself she was unstable. Some years she was. But even when she was stable, I wanted her gone.”
There.
“Why?”
“Because Diane needed Mark.”
Not enough.
“And you?”
He looked down.
“I liked having a son.”
There.
I was his daughter.
Mark gave him something else.
Fishing.
Sports.
Masculine continuity.
He had invested identity.
Then:
“When Mark hurt you as kids, I thought boys were rough.”
“You saw him hurt girls too.”
“I know.”
“Cousins.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I taught him that being male and angry would be translated into something harmless.”
That was more insight than I expected.
Then Eli.
Dad cried.
“I should have picked him up.”
Yes.
“I should have stopped Mark after the first grab.”
Yes.
“I should have called you.”
Yes.
“Instead I thought about the folder.”
There.
Then he asked:
“Can I see him someday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you ask?”
“No.”
His face changed.
“He decides if he wants. His therapist can bring it up if appropriate. I will not recruit him into forgiving you.”
Dad nodded.
“Okay.”
Then property.
He surprised me.
“I don’t want Bennett Hollow discussed between us again.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I say Mark deserved part, I am asking you to solve my guilt with your property.”
Yes.
Then:
“Samuel was right about one thing.”
“One?”
Dad almost smiled.
“He should have made me angrier more often.”
I did not laugh.
Not yet.
Then he gave me something.
Original photograph.
Laurel holding five year old Mason.
Diane beside her.
Before guardianship.
Both women smiling.
“Where did you get this?”
“Attic.”
“Why give me?”
“It belongs in the truth.”
I kept it.
Then I asked:
“Did Mark ever see this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he changed his name.”
“What did he say?”
Dad whispered:
“He asked why everyone looked happy before he became Mark.”
That broke me.
Again:
Child.
Adult.
Different accountability.
Then Dad left.
No hug.
Not yet.
May you like
But I did not feel poisoned afterward.
That was new.
