Chapter 17 - Sophia’s Seven Years
Seven years is long enough for a child to go from first grade to high school.
Long enough for a hotel lobby to be renovated twice.
Long enough for people online to forget why they once knew your name.
Sophia served seven years and eight months before supervised release under applicable credits.
I received notice ninety days before.
My stomach tightened.
I had not seen her since sentencing.
She would be forty.
Older.
Would she come?
Conditions prohibited contact unless I consented during supervision.
Good.
Then her reentry plan.
She would live in a supervised apartment in Springfield initially? Too far. Let's say near Chicago but not same neighborhood, with approved employment at commercial upholstery company doing administrative/design work.
No Hale Meridian.
No hospitality vendor.
No access.
Then she asked through her supervisor:
Could she send one letter?
I allowed.
Victoria,
I am leaving prison in three weeks.
Then:
I will not come to your home, office, hotels, or mother’s old building.
She did not know I had sold building maybe.
Then:
I know the building isn’t yours anymore. I looked it up.
Then:
“I don’t expect relationship.”
She wrote:
“I want you to know I am afraid.”
I stared.
“Not of you.”
“Of who I was when I thought resentment gave me permission.”
That sentence.
Then:
“I still feel jealous sometimes.”
Honest.
“When I hear your hotels expanded, I feel it.”
Then:
“But now I know a feeling is not instruction.”
Good.
I replied:
I appreciate honesty. I am not ready to meet.
That was all.
Then release.
No cameras.
No reunion.
She complied.
One year.
No contact beyond birthday card? She didn't send unless permission.
Good.
Then her restitution.
She paid monthly.
Hale Meridian received.
I asked finance not to notify me individually.
Company accounting.
Not family.
Then Sophia’s job.
She was promoted modestly after two years.
No public profile.
She used her own name.
Her conviction known to employer.
Then she volunteered? No redemption performance maybe.
She attended financial ethics classes required.
Built life.
Then Marcus still incarcerated.
He wrote Sophia repeatedly from prison.
Her supervisor/attorney said she could receive? She blocked.
Later she told me:
“He wanted us to say we had both been manipulated by you.”
Interesting.
He still needed villain.
She refused.
No contact.
Then three years after release, I agreed to meet Sophia.
Neutral counselor office.
One hour.
She walked in.
Gray at temple already.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
No hug.
We sat.
She looked at my hair.
“Looks good.”
I almost laughed.
Then she realized why that was terrible.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Silence.
Then:
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t perform.”
She nodded.
We talked about Mom.
Not crime at first.
Her old fashion school.
My first hotel.
Then:
“Did you ever feel guilty buying building?”
I answered:
“For becoming richer after you sold? Sometimes.”
Her eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Because families make different outcomes feel like betrayal.”
Then:
“Did you cheat me?”
“No.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I wish I had known then.”
“You did know enough.”
She closed eyes.
“Yes.”
No absolution.
Then crime.
“Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Because help from you felt like proof you were above me.”
“I would have given money.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I wanted not to need.”
Marcus offered a way to take.
That felt like equality.
Then:
“Did you love him?”
She thought.
“I loved being chosen against you.”
There.
Not him perhaps.
Then:
“Did he love you?”
“Not enough to tell truth when police came.”
We both almost smiled.
Then serious.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Do you forgive?”
I looked.
“Some.”
She nodded.
“Can we be sisters?”
“Not like before.”
“We weren’t good before.”
True.
Then:
“Can we be something?”
“Maybe.”
We ended.
No hug.
At door she said:
“Victoria.”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you switched bowls.”
My body went cold.
She saw.
“Not because Marcus got hurt.”
Then:
“Because you lived.”
I nodded.
No answer.
That evening I made soup.
Not to prove.
May you like
Because cold.
I ate.
