Chapter 15
Six months later, Adrian wrote from prison.
I almost threw the letter away.
Then Rebecca said, “You can read it without forgiving him.”
So I did.
Claire,
I keep replaying the dinner. Your face. The plate. Maya standing up. I was angry you said no, but more than that, I was afraid you would expose the whole family. I chose them. I know that now.
I stopped reading.
Not because it was false.
Because it was true enough to hurt.
I finished it the next day.
He apologized to me.
To Lila.
To Sophie.
To Maya.
He did not ask me to visit.
That was the only reason I did not burn it.
Maya read her own letter from him and cried.
“I hate him,” she said.
“I know.”
“He was my brother.”
“I know.”
“Can both be true?”
“Yes.”
Family grief is messy that way.
Eleanor never wrote.
Good.
Harold wrote to Sophie through court channels.
Lila rejected every letter.
Good.
Children are not redemption projects for men who hurt their mothers.
The legal clinic in my old condo asked me to join the board.
I said no twice.
Then yes.
At the first meeting, I sat above the rebuilt basement and felt my pulse race.
Lila sat beside me.
She whispered, “We are above it now.”
I looked at the floor.
May you like
Then at her.
“Yes,” I said. “We are.”
