Chapter 20 - Diane And Richard
Mom and Dad never remarried each other.
They divorced.
But forty one years did not vanish.
At family events, sometimes both.
Mom remained angry but eventually less.
Dad apologized.
She accepted some.
No romantic reconciliation.
Dad once asked her to dinner.
She said:
“We can have coffee.”
That became occasional.
Two old people who had children and history.
Not spouses.
Mom told me:
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“I still do in some way.”
“That okay.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“Also true.”
Then:
“I don’t want people turning him into monster so Rebecca and I can pretend we had no part.”
That was mature.
Mom had enabled silence.
Rebecca exploited.
Dad controlled.
Each different.
Then Dad’s health? We don't need until later. Could age.
He lived modestly.
His finances transparent with court and then himself.
No new offenses.
He paid final surcharge obligations.
The trust received last insurance settlement.
Dad’s civil account closed.
Then he asked me to come over.
He gave me a folder.
“What?”
“Your childhood financial records.”
I groaned.
“No secret trust?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Inside college savings statements.
Receipts.
Old letters.
He wanted return.
Then a note from when I was seventeen.
Dad had written:
Daniel never asks for help. I worry he thinks needing us is weakness.
I stared.
“You wrote?”
“Yes.”
“So you knew.”
“I knew and still reinforced.”
He nodded.
Human contradiction.
Then he said:
“I’m proud of you.”
Old me would have needed.
Now it was nice.
Not oxygen.
“Thanks.”
Then:
“I’m proud of how you protected Noah.”
I looked.
“That Thanksgiving, I almost grabbed you by throat.”
He smiled sadly.
“You didn’t.”
“I shoved.”
“I deserved space.”
“Not injury.”
“No.”
Then:
“You left.”
“Yes.”
“That was stronger.”
May you like
I thought of walking into cold night with son.
Maybe.
