Chapter 17 - The Meeting
Richard did not ask for job.
Shares.
House.
Grace.
That surprised me.
He brought no folder.
Good.
We sat across with mediator.
“I don’t know where to start.”
I answered:
“The porch.”
He nodded.
“I dragged you by hair.”
“Yes.”
“I shoved.”
“Yes.”
“You were pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“I knew.”
“Yes.”
“I was angry you said no.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“I told myself you were irrational.”
“You knew signature fake.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation now.
“Did you tell Kelsey to copy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you file deed?”
“Yes.”
“Did you plan to get me to sign at hospital?”
His face twisted.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought if I could create enough momentum, you’d stop resisting.”
Momentum.
Pressure with business vocabulary.
Then:
“Did you know Mom founded company?”
“Yes.”
“All along?”
“Yes.”
“Why lie?”
He looked down.
“Because after divorce I could not stand that employees remembered her.”
“So you removed?”
“Yes.”
“Why tell me she spent everything?”
“Because I wanted you to think leaving me cost her.”
There.
That was the ugliest truth.
He used mother’s supposed ruin to train daughter not to leave.
“You wanted me afraid.”
“Yes.”
I cried.
He did too.
Then:
“Did you ever love her?”
“Yes.”
“Did you love me?”
“Yes.”
“How do you reconcile?”
“I don’t.”
Good.
No cheap.
Then Daniel.
“Did you hate?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have anything to do with accident?”
His head snapped.
“No.”
I believed evidence already.
“I need hear.”
“No. I did not. I did not know trip route. I had no contact with driver. I did not want Daniel dead.”
Then:
“When he died, did you feel relieved?”
Long pause.
“Yes.”
That hurt.
Then:
“And ashamed.”
At least.
Then Grace.
“Do you want meet?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
Then:
“Maybe someday?”
“I don’t promise.”
“Okay.”
Good.
Then shares.
“Do you regret losing company?”
“Yes.”
He smiled sadly.
“I still look at trucks.”
Then:
“Do you think company was yours?”
“I think part of me will always feel that.”
Honest.
“But feeling doesn’t make deed.”
There.
“Laura wrote that?”
“No. Prison therapist.”
I laughed despite.
Then:
“Are you angry her name on wall?”
“At first. Now no.”
Then:
“She deserved.”
I cried again.
Meeting ended after ninety minutes.
At door, Richard asked:
“Can I write Grace?”
“No.”
“Can I continue writing you?”
“Once a year.”
He nodded.
Boundaries.
Then I left.
No hug.
In car, I shook.
Margaret called.
“Well?”
“He said right things.”
“Do you believe?”
“Some.”
“Enough?”
“For what?”
Exactly.
Trust has purpose.
Do I trust him not to forge now?
More.
Do I trust him around Grace unsupervised?
No.
Do I trust him with financial decisions?
Never.
Do I love?
Something remained.
Then Grace at seven asked again.
I said:
“I met him.”
“What’s he like?”
“Complicated.”
Kids hate.
“Good or bad?”
“Both.”
“Can I meet?”
This time I said:
“Maybe with therapist and public place.”
Because it was her family too.
But not yet.
Then a letter arrived from Richard.
One page.
No pressure.
Emily,
Thank you for meeting. I will wait.
May you like
That was all.
Waiting was new.
