Chapter 19 - Nicole’s Version of Childhood
Nicole and I spent years comparing memories.
Dangerous if done carelessly.
We learned not to force agreement.
She remembered Richard as fun more than I did.
He coached softball.
Built treehouse.
Made pancakes.
I remembered criticism.
Belt.
Doors.
Both true.
Then Nicole said:
“I think you protected me so much I didn't see worst.”
That possibility hurt.
I was older.
Only three years.
But enough.
Then:
“Do you resent?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You were child.”
Good.
Then she admitted when Richard was in prison, she visited monthly.
I had known.
She said:
“He asked me to tell you he was sorry.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You had asked no messages.”
Good.
Then:
“I think that’s first time I chose your boundary over his need.”
We hugged.
Then Nicole’s children had different view of grandfather.
They remembered gifts.
Not violence.
They struggled with conviction.
One nephew said:
“I don’t think Grandpa was monster.”
I answered:
“Neither do I.”
He looked surprised.
“Then?”
“He was a man who harmed children and lied. Monster is not necessary.”
This mattered.
Calling people monsters can make harm seem foreign.
Richard was human.
That is why accountability mattered.
Then family history project.
Nicole digitized Eli photos.
Not case evidence.
Birthday.
School.
Purple juice.
We gave copies to Ava.
She chose one for house.
Eli on swing.
Not stairs.
Then at family reunion, someone asked why no Richard memorial.
Nicole said:
“Because we remember privately.”
Good.
No erasure.
No shrine.
Then Sarah’s mother Margaret? Already died by then. Fine.
Then I wrote a private letter to Eli.
Not a writing artifact to publish.
I said:
I am sorry I told police I was asleep.
Then:
I was eleven.
I know that now.
I had blamed myself decades.
Then:
I wish I had been louder.
But children should not need to be louder than parents.
I placed letter at grave then took it home? Don't litter. I read, then shredded.
No relic.
May you like
Then I finally let my eleven-year-old self off witness stand.
That was perhaps last legal closure no court could provide.
