Chapter 8 - I Apologized To Laurel Without Asking Her To Forgive Me
I waited three days after the dinner before asking Laurel to meet me.
Not at home.
Not around Conrad.
A café near her apartment.
She arrived wearing sunglasses even though the day was cloudy.
The red mark from my slap was gone.
The distance wasn’t.
I said:
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
She looked at me.
No response.
“I’m not going to say I was shocked or frightened or overwhelmed as if those things make it less mine.”
Still nothing.
“I hit you because I wanted you to stop saying something I already knew was probably true.”
That made her eyes change.
“I was angry at you for making denial impossible.”
She removed her sunglasses.
“Do you know what the worst part was?”
I shook my head.
“You looked at me exactly the way Conrad used to when I questioned money.”
That hurt.
Good.
Some pain is information.
I whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Laurel looked down at her coffee.
“I believe you.”
Not I forgive you.
I noticed the difference.
I did not ask for more.
Then I said:
“I signed some of those forms.”
“I know.”
“I failed you too.”
Her face tightened.
“Did you know what they were?”
“No.”
“But you signed them.”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s the part I’ve been angry about since I found them.”
“I understand.”
“No, Mom. I don’t think you did. You trusted him more than you protected something Dad left me.”
There was no answer that improved that.
So I said:
“Yes.”
That yes became the beginning of repairing my relationship with my daughter.
Not explanation.
May you like
Not tears.
Agreement with reality.
