Chapter 15 - The Divorce That Was Not Revenge
Richard wanted me to walk away from house.
His lawyer argued he had paid larger mortgage share.
I had reduced work hours caring for girls.
Texas community property principles complicated. We negotiated through lawyers.
The house sold.
Neither wanted remain after publicity and memories.
Equity split in court approved settlement with adjustments for certain debts, including unauthorized credit card in my name resolved against Richard’s share after bank findings.
I did not get everything.
He did not.
Then retirement.
Vehicles.
I kept my Honda.
He kept truck after lien.
Then my earnings.
No spousal support long term.
Temporary child support from available assets and later prison wage minimal.
State systems handled.
I worked.
Amy helped.
No hidden billionaire.
Then my medical bills.
Insurance covered much.
Victim compensation covered portions related assault.
Richard restitution order included some out of pocket costs.
He could not repay quickly.
Fine.
Then marital property sale included swing set.
The buyers had children.
Lily asked:
“Can we take?”
No.
Too large.
She cried.
Then said:
“I don’t want Daddy’s swing.”
We let.
Then new apartment.
Three bedrooms.
I signed lease.
First night, daughters ran room to room.
Sophie:
“No backyard?”
A small shared courtyard.
I panicked.
Then realized backyard itself not evil.
We later rented townhouse with private yard.
Not now.
Then divorce decree.
I sat in court.
Richard appeared by video from facility.
The judge asked standard.
Marriage irretrievably? yes.
No speech.
No ring throw.
It ended.
Name.
I changed back to Emily Lawson.
Girls kept Carter.
I did not force names.
Then Richard wrote first letter through approved channel.
Emily,
I learned at sentencing that at least one twin may have been boy.
I almost stopped.
Then:
I hate that this matters to me because it proves how sick my thinking became.
Better.
Then:
If both had been girls, nothing about what I did changes.
Good.
Then:
I am sorry I made our daughters hear they were less.
Then:
I do not expect response.
I did not.
Then daughters' contact.
Lily refused first three prison video calls.
Sophie wanted.
We followed therapist.
Sophie saw.
“Daddy?”
He cried.
“Hi, Soph.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in a place because I hurt Mom and broke laws.”
No “Mom took.”
Good.
Then:
“Are you bad?”
“I did bad things.”
He had been coached perhaps.
Still.
Then Lily eventually joined.
She said:
“Grandma said you’re sorry.”
“I am.”
“Did you hate us because girls?”
“No.”
“You said.”
“I said awful things because I was wrong.”
Then:
“Would you like us if boys?”
“I should have loved you right from beginning exactly as you are.”
She cried.
Then call ended.
After, she said:
“I don’t forgive.”
“Okay.”
Then Margaret released.
She wrote girls separately, therapist reviewed.
To Lily:
I told you to lie. That was wrong.
To Sophie:
I should have protected your mother.
Then to both:
You are not responsible for your father’s feelings.
Good.
They did not want visit.
She waited.
Then Rosa.
She moved away two years later.
Before, she brought tomato plant.
I laughed.
“Why?”
“You always had dead tomatoes.”
True.
We planted at apartment balcony.
I forgave her eventually.
Not because she acted perfectly.
Because she admitted.
Then Dr. Mitchell.
No relationship.
He sent no cards.
He was doctor.
At annual appointment, I saw name in chart maybe.
I wrote thank-you through patient portal:
Thank you for asking me alone.
He replied:
I’m glad you and children are safe.
Done.
Boundaries.
Then physical healing.
Ribs old.
Leg strengthened.
Pelvis arthritis maybe.
My body carried.
But I stopped reading every pain as hidden fracture.
Then one morning, Lily spilled orange juice.
The exact thing.
She froze.
Cup in hand.
“Sorry.”
I looked.
Paper towel.
“That’s what towels are for.”
She stared.
Then cried.
“What?”
“I thought you’d be mad.”
May you like
I hugged.
No one went outside.
