Chapter 16 - THE DIVORCE
Dustin did not contest the divorce itself.
He contested custody.
Not sole custody.
By then, he knew no judge would give him that.
He requested a path back to shared parenting.
I wanted supervised visits indefinitely.
Dr. Price asked:
“What evidence would change your position?”
“Years.”
“That is time, not evidence.”
“Consistent behavior over years.”
“Better.”
I hated that process.
It forced me to imagine future safety before my body was ready.
Dustin’s first therapeutic visit with Meadow happened three months after the haircut.
She wore a baseball cap.
Not the pink winter hat.
Her hair had grown into soft fuzz.
She sat across from him.
He cried.
Dr. Grant stopped him gently.
“Regulate before continuing.”
He breathed.
Meadow watched.
“Did you tell Grandma?”
“Yes.”
“To shave?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dustin looked toward the therapist.
She said:
“Answer simply.”
“Because I was angry that you were becoming more like Mom and because I thought Grandma could make you more independent.”
Meadow frowned.
“I like Mom.”
“I know.”
“Did you not want me to?”
“No.”
“But Grandma said.”
“I let Grandma say things I should have stopped.”
“Why Chicago?”
He froze.
“You know about that?”
“Yes.”
“I thought maybe we would move.”
“Mom too?”
Dustin began crying again.
“No.”
Meadow looked at the floor.
“Then I don’t want to see you.”
The therapist ended the session.
She did not force closure.
Dustin did not file an emergency motion demanding contact.
That restraint became the first useful thing he did after sentencing.
He sent one therapeutic letter.
You do not have to see me before you feel ready. I am your father, but that does not mean I get to make you comfortable with me on my schedule.
Meadow read it.
Stored it.
No response.
The divorce financial process was ordinary.
House equity.
Retirement accounts.
Vehicles.
My practice ownership.
His compensation.
No secret fortune.
No punitive seizure.
Dustin kept lawful assets.
I kept mine.
We sold the marital house because Meadow did not want to return.
That mattered more than nostalgia.
I rented near her school.
Later bought a smaller home.
The spare room became an art room.
May you like
No mirrors for months.
Then one.
