Chapter 21 - Lana Tells the Truth
Lana asked for one final mediated conversation.
I almost refused.
Then accepted because I wanted to close my own questions.
Rachel sat beside me.
Lana came alone.
No lawyer.
No Michelle.
“Hera finished probation,” she said.
“I know.”
“He’s doing better.”
“I hope so.”
“He doesn’t blame you anymore.”
“I didn’t ask.”
She nodded.
Then:
“I blamed you.”
“I know.”
“I blamed you because if you were selfish, then I wasn’t.”
That sentence surprised me.
She continued.
“I came into your house without asking because Hera told me it was his too. But even when I learned it wasn’t, I still acted like it was.”
“Yes.”
“I thought marriage meant you had to make room.”
“Room is different from surrender.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do now.”
She looked down.
“I didn’t know about fake invoices. I need you to believe that.”
“I do.”
Her head lifted.
“Why?”
“Because evidence says you didn’t.”
She cried.
That was perhaps the first kindness I offered her.
Truth.
Not forgiveness.
“Did you know he planned to pressure me with family?”
“Yes.”
“Did you support?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think I should sign?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think the house should partly become his?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was my son.”
I shook head.
“That isn’t a reason.”
“I know.”
“Did you think what I wanted mattered?”
She answered after a long silence.
“Not enough.”
There.
Finally.
“Thank you.”
She looked surprised.
“For what?”
“For not saying ‘but.’”
She smiled sadly.
Then:
“Can we have a relationship?”
“Not the old one.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I send a Christmas card?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come over?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
That became our relationship.
Cards.
Occasional lunch in public.
No keys.
No overnight stays.
No family vacations.
No breakfast demands.
It was smaller.
Healthier.
May you like
Sometimes smaller is not loss.
It is correct size.
