Chapter 14 - Richard’s First Apology Was Really a Defense
Six months after the ambulance, Richard sent:
a letter.
Eli, I’m sorry you got hurt while we were arguing.
No.
I was trying to teach you responsibility.
No.
Your father has always misunderstood discipline because of his own guilt about his past.
Absolutely not.
Eli read:
none
of it.
His therapist and I agreed the letter would not help.
Nine months later:
another.
Shorter.
I should not have locked the workshop.
Better.
Then:
You should not have spoken to me the way you did.
There it was.
Still bargaining.
A year later, Richard entered a structured family-reunification program at his attorney’s suggestion.
Not because Eli wanted:
reunion.
Because Richard finally began understanding that contact, if it ever happened, would require:
accountability
without:
negotiation.
His third letter said:
Eli, I shoved you.
You hit the workbench because I used force.
I locked the door because I wanted to prove I was in charge.
When you escaped and people came, I cared more about making them believe my version than about whether you were injured.
Then:
Calling you weak was something I used to excuse frightening you.
I read it.
Then gave it to:
Eli.
He was thirteen.
He read silently.
Then said:
“He finally stopped saying I fell.”
“Yes.”
“Do I have to see him?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“That will be your decision within whatever legal rules still apply.”
He folded the letter.
Put it in:
his desk.
Not forgiveness.
Not rejection.
Information.
May you like
That was enough.
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