Chapter 20 - Susan and Me
Susan and I saw each other at Maggie baby’s first birthday.
Tyler invited both.
We were adults.
She brought wooden blocks.
No designer excess.
Not performative maybe.
We stood kitchen.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Then she looked at my bag.
“Still have passbook?”
“Safe.”
She laughed nervously.
“That thing.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“I sometimes dream about funeral.”
“So do I.”
“What happens?”
“In mine, I don’t dig.”
I had never said.
The nightmare.
Casket lowered.
Passbook buried.
I wake.
Susan’s face changed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Then I asked:
“Did you ever think I would dig?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Richard said you’d be too embarrassed.”
There.
He knew humiliation could stop me.
At cemetery, dozens people.
He made public.
He expected I would leave rather than kneel.
He underestimated grief.
Then Susan:
“He said you cared too much what people thought.”
Was he wrong?
Not fully.
Grandma mattered more.
Then:
“Do you think he changed?”
Susan considered.
“Some.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
No need prove.
Then:
“Do you hate him?”
“No.”
That surprised.
“I don’t want him back. Different.”
Then:
“I blamed him for everything first year prison.”
She said.
“Then counselor made me list things nobody asked me to do.”
Witness signature.
Fake email.
Laugh.
That helped.
Then:
“I chose.”
Same theme.
Then Tyler called us for cake.
We entered together.
No symbolism required.
Richard sat other side.
He did not comment.
Maggie toddler smashed frosting.
Everyone laughed.
For one moment, family.
Not restored.
Reconstructed.
Then Richard’s restitution.
He had paid from forfeitures already significant. Post release, wage garnishment small.
Eventually court marked principal obligations satisfied after sale of remaining investment assets and settlements.
He did not owe me personally after trust recovered.
I received notice.
Case financially closed.
That felt strange.
No balance due.
Does that mean debt gone?
Legal yes.
Emotional separate.
I shredded monthly restitution notices after retention period.
Kept final.
Then trust.
Balance grew.
I did not need.
I decided to diversify and distribute some to buy home? Already condo.
I created financial plan.
No secret.
If I had children someday, disclosure.
If not, charities and Tyler's child? Not automatically.
No one is owed because blood.
Then I started master’s degree part time.
The graduate program I had once rejected due cost.
At thirty eight.
No need career payoff.
I wanted.
History and archival studies? Could be because documents. Maybe urban planning? We know nothing. Let's choose library/information science? Not important.
I studied nonprofit management? Hmm.
Let's say I earned a master’s in public administration, focusing on consumer protection. Could be too trauma.
Maybe art history. Why not?
I had always wanted museum studies.
I enrolled.
Trust paid tuition.
No loan.
At orientation, I was older than many.
Good.
I texted Tyler:
Grandpa Frank is funding character by studying.
He replied:
May you like
LOL.
Healing through joke.
