Chapter 15 - Michael Comes Out
Michael did not come home.
There was no home to return to.
Our old house belonged to another family.
His company gone.
Marriage dissolved.
Emma adult.
He was released to supervised housing.
Conditions:
No unapproved contact with Emma or me.
No work involving unsupervised minors during supervision.
Financial reporting.
Counseling.
Restitution compliance.
No controlled medication handling outside personal prescriptions? Could be a condition? Possibly but too specific. Skip.
He got warehouse logistics job.
Stayed.
No violations first year.
Then Emma asked mediator for meeting.
I did not attend.
She was twenty-two.
Therapist joined.
Michael entered.
Emma later told me everything.
He cried when saw.
She did not hug.
First question:
“How many times?”
He answered:
“I know of eight nights and three mornings. I may be forgetting one.”
More than he admitted at trial.
“Why mornings?”
“To make symptoms show at school.”
There.
“Did you want me to collapse?”
“No.”
“Did you know I could?”
“I knew medication could make you sick. I told myself small amount wouldn't.”
“Why not ask doctor?”
“Because then I couldn't use it.”
Direct.
Then:
“Did you want Mom arrested?”
“I wanted her investigated and scared.”
“Fired?”
“Yes.”
“Lose me?”
“I wanted temporary custody.”
“For what?”
“To make her negotiate.”
Emma stared.
“So I was leverage.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
Then:
“Did you love Vanessa?”
“I thought so.”
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Emma said:
“You keep saying you loved people while using them.”
Michael cried.
“I know.”
Then:
“What do you think love means now?”
He took time.
“Wanting good for someone even when their answer costs you.”
That was better.
Then Emma asked:
“Do you want relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Do you expect?”
“No.”
Good.
Then she said:
“One letter a month. No calls.”
He accepted.
For two years.
No violations.
Then coffee.
Public.
Then occasional dinner.
I stayed out.
Emma's relationship with father belonged to her.
Then Michael requested meeting with me.
I said no.
Not yet.
One year later, yes.
Neutral.
He looked different.
Gray.
Thinner.
“Sarah.”
“Michael.”
He began:
“I am sorry.”
“No speech. Answer questions.”
He nodded.
“Why did you hate me enough to do it?”
“I didn't hate you.”
That angered me.
“Then?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of affair?”
“Debt. Failure. Needing your income. Vanessa. Everything.”
“So you made me problem.”
“Yes.”
“Why Emma?”
“Because court listens when child is involved.”
I almost stood.
He continued:
“I thought if people doubted you as mother and nurse, they would not look as hard at me.”
There.
Then:
“Did you ever think what medication could do?”
“I searched side effects.”
No need details.
“And still?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think she could die?”
“I told myself no.”
“Not same as knowing.”
“I know.”
Then:
“Do you forgive me?”
“No.”
I surprised myself.
Years had passed.
Still no.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
No anger.
That helped more than apology.
Then I said:
“I may someday.”
“I understand.”
We left.
No hug.
Then David asked:
“How?”
“Not forgiven.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
May you like
Good.
Forgiveness has no deadline.
