Chapter 49 - julian’s final letter asked for nothing and changed nothing
Julian’s supervision ended the following year.
He wrote one letter.
Not annual.
Not emotional.
Final.
Natalie,
My supervision officer told me I am no longer required to report certain movements or communications.
I am not writing to ask whether that changes your boundaries.
I assume it does not unless you say otherwise.
Correct.
He continued.
Testifying about B-17 forced me to understand something I had avoided.
I spent years thinking my family taught me control.
That was true.
I also liked what control gave me.
Convenience.
Certainty.
Status.
The ability to make discomfort somebody else’s problem.
No parent, doctor, therapist, or institution forced me to enjoy those benefits.
I did.
That is mine.
I reread that paragraph.
Then:
I am moving north.
I have accepted work with a financial-literacy nonprofit that does not serve Justice Center clients and has no relationship to the Commons.
I disclosed my history.
They decided what they were willing to accept.
I am not asking you to evaluate that decision.
Good.
At the bottom:
You once asked whether I was changing.
My answer is still some days.
I think that is the only honest answer I have.
There was no:
I still love you.
No:
Maybe someday.
No request to attend an event.
Nothing for me to reject.
I placed the letter with the previous ones.
Then surprised myself.
I wrote back.
One sentence.
I hope you keep doing the work without needing me to witness it.
I mailed it.
Dad asked:
“Reconciliation?”
“No.”
“Forgiveness?”
“No.”
“Then why answer?”
I thought.
“Because I wanted to.”
He smiled.
Best reason.
May you like
Nothing changed between Julian and me.
That was exactly why the response finally felt safe.
