Chapter 12 - Diane Apologized to Emma Without Asking Emma to Make Her Feel Better
Diane did not see Emma for almost three months.
At first because I required:
distance.
Then because Emma said:
“Not yet.”
Mark asked once whether I was influencing her.
I answered:
“I’m sure everything I say influences her. That’s why I keep telling her she doesn’t have to hate your mother.”
He stopped asking.
Diane eventually requested a meeting with:
child therapist present.
I agreed only after Emma did.
The therapist, Dr. Caroline West, prepared Emma beforehand.
No pressure to hug.
No pressure to forgive.
No adult discussion of:
inheritance,
company,
divorce.
Just the birthday.
Diane arrived wearing:
navy.
No burgundy sweater.
I noticed and hated that I noticed.
Emma sat beside me.
Diane across the room.
For the first minute, nobody spoke.
Then Diane said:
“I broke your cake.”
Emma nodded.
“Yes.”
“I did it because I was angry about things that had nothing to do with your birthday.”
Emma stared.
Diane continued.
“I said that because you are a girl, you matter less to the family business.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“That was wrong.”
“Do you still think it?”
Diane answered too slowly.
Then truthfully:
“I am trying not to.”
I respected that more than an immediate lie.
Emma asked:
“Why do you have to try?”
Diane swallowed.
“Because I learned some bad ideas a long time ago.”
“From who?”
“My father.”
“Did he hate girls?”
“No.”
“He loved me.”
“Then why did he teach bad stuff?”
Diane looked helplessly toward Caroline.
The therapist did not rescue her.
Good.
Diane answered:
“Because people can love you and still be unfair to you.”
Emma thought.
Then:
“Dad loves me?”
Diane’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Then why did he say I wasn’t carrying his name?”
Sarah instinct wanted:
jump in.
I didn’t.
Diane said:
“Because your father was being cowardly.”
I looked at her sharply.
She continued.
“He wanted me pleased with him.”
“He chose that instead of protecting you and your mom.”
“He was wrong.”
Emma looked down.
Then at Diane.
“Did you want Dad to have another kid instead of me?”
“No.”
“Did you want a boy more?”
Diane started crying.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Emma’s eyes filled too.
I reached for her hand.
Diane continued:
“I am ashamed of that.”
“I thought a boy would protect something I was afraid of losing.”
“What?”
“The company.”
“Grandpa Robert’s name.”
“Family history.”
Emma wiped one cheek.
“Couldn’t I protect it?”
Diane looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Could I also decide not to?”
Diane went still.
That was a sophisticated question for ten.
Emma had been listening more than we realized.
“Yes.”
Diane’s voice broke.
“Yes, you could.”
Emma nodded.
Then:
“I don’t want the company right now.”
Caroline almost smiled.
Diane did too through tears.
“That seems reasonable.”
“I want art camp.”
I laughed.
The tension cracked.
Then Diane said:
“Emma, I am sorry.”
“No excuse.”
“I ruined your birthday because I cared more about a future idea than the granddaughter sitting in front of me.”
“I should never have done that.”
“I do not expect you to forgive me today.”
Emma looked at her for a long time.
Then:
“Okay.”
Not:
I forgive you.
Just:
Okay.
Diane accepted it.
That mattered.
The meeting ended without a hug.
The second ended with one.
Brief.
The fourth with Emma asking if Diane still had Robert’s old drafting tools.
Trust returned:
by inches.
May you like
That was appropriate.
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