Chapter 18 - Courtney Comes Back
Courtney contacted me when Samuel was five.
Not directly.
Through Samantha, who was still my attorney but increasingly complained about retirement.
“Courtney wants a mediated meeting.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
That was it.
A year later, another request.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Then Samantha asked:
“Do you know why you keep saying no?”
I glared.
“That sounds dangerously therapeutic.”
“I charge too much for therapy.”
I laughed.
Why?
Because Courtney’s face was attached to the worst moment of the porch.
Charles’s hand hurt.
Courtney’s laughter humiliated.
I could understand her cooperation.
Her sentence.
Her manipulation by Charles.
None created desire for relationship.
Then Samuel turned seven.
The same age I had been when Charles first taught me to sign whatever he placed in front of me.
Memory surfaced.
A savings-account form.
“Sign here, sweetheart.”
I signed.
Later discovered he had made himself custodian beyond necessity.
Not criminal.
Controlling.
Pattern.
I decided I wanted one meeting with Courtney.
Not for Samuel.
For me.
Neutral office.
Mediator.
Courtney entered wearing a plain black sweater.
Thirty-one now.
She looked older than twenty-four.
So did I.
She sat.
“Victoria.”
“Courtney.”
Then silence.
She said:
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I don't want to explain.”
“Good.”
Then I asked:
“Why did you laugh?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because your father had spent months telling me you thought I was trash.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did I?”
“I don't know.”
“Did I ever say it?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I needed to believe you hated me so I could hate you without feeling stupid.”
Honest.
Then:
“When you said your water broke, I thought you were trying to manipulate him.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles said you always used pregnancy to make people treat you specially.”
I almost laughed.
I had been pregnant once.
No historical pattern possible.
Courtney looked ashamed.
“I know.”
Then:
“Why record?”
“By then I was afraid of Charles too.”
“You were still laughing.”
“Yes.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
People can fear and participate.
Then I asked:
“Did you know he planned to take my house?”
“Yes.”
“My shares?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think I agreed?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“No.”
“When did you know?”
“Before the remote notary.”
There.
“So you knowingly impersonated me.”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
Then:
“Did Charles threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because I wanted what he promised.”
Good.
Then she said:
“I know prosecutors called me cooperative. I don't want you thinking that means brave.”
“I don't.”
She almost smiled.
Then:
“I turned because I found out he was going to leave debt with me.”
“I know.”
“I did the right thing for the wrong reason.”
“Then later?”
“I tried to keep doing right things when they stopped benefiting me.”
That was maybe change.
Then she asked:
“Do you forgive me?”
I thought.
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
Then I continued:
“I don't want you in my life.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
No disappointment performance.
Then:
“Can I send Samuel anything?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
We stood.
No hug.
At the door Courtney said:
“Charles made me think being chosen by him made me better than you.”
I looked.
“He made me think being his daughter meant I owed him.”
She nodded.
Same man.
Different cages.
We left separately.
Then Samantha said:
“How was it?”
“Expensive.”
“You’re welcome.”
I laughed.
Then Samuel asked where I had gone.
“To talk to Courtney.”
“Grandpa’s wife?”
“Former wife.”
“Do you like her?”
“No.”
“Did you yell?”
“No.”
“Boring.”
I smiled.
May you like
Healing is often boring to children.
Good.
