Chapter 22 - Grace’s Question
At fourteen, Grace wanted full story.
Not every police photo.
Not every financial exhibit.
But truth.
We met with therapist first.
I told chronology.
Dad took money.
Dad and Grandma wanted me unable to stop financial action.
Grandma pushed.
Dad knew she might hurt me and chose not to stop.
They lied.
Neighbor camera and house camera proved much.
Police investigated.
Courts decided.
Dad served prison time.
Grandma too.
Grace listened.
Then asked:
“Was I almost born that day?”
“Possible. Doctors were concerned, but you stayed inside.”
“Could I have died?”
“Yes.”
She looked down.
“Do you hate Dad?”
“No.”
She looked up.
“Really?”
“I hated him for years. Sometimes pieces remain. But no.”
“Do you love him?”
That was harder.
“I love who I thought we were. I care what happens to him because he’s your father. I don’t want him harmed.”
“So no.”
“No, not romantically.”
She nodded.
“Do you forgive?”
“Some things.”
“Which?”
“I forgive him for being afraid after. I don’t forgive the choice before.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Grace thought.
“Do I have to forgive him?”
“No.”
“Grandma?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“No.”
She leaned back.
“Good.”
Then:
“I think I forgive Dad some.”
“That’s yours.”
“I don’t forgive Grandma for pushing.”
“That’s yours.”
“Can I still see her?”
“Yes.”
“Is that weird?”
“No.”
This was the family we became.
Not clean.
Not reconciled.
Bounded.
Grace’s relationship with Margaret remained occasional.
Her relationship with Ethan grew.
By fifteen, she spent one Saturday a month with him.
No overnights still.
Then one weekend she asked.
Court order had evolved after reviews.
Overnight permitted with agreement.
I said yes.
First night, I did not sleep.
Grace returned Sunday.
“Dad snores.”
I laughed.
“Genetic?”
“Not from donor? Wait Ethan is biological father here, yes.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Normal.
At sixteen, she asked to visit Bennett Grove property.
Project had been completed under a different developer.
Now called Maple Crossing Senior Living.
No Bennett name.
She stood outside.
“This is what they did it for?”
“Partly.”
“It’s just apartments.”
“Most disasters are over ordinary things people decide matter too much.”
She took picture.
Then deleted.
May you like
“I don’t care.”
Good.
