Chapter 22 - GRETCHEN’S LETTER
Gretchen wrote Bodie every year through counsel.
At twelve:
No.
At fourteen:
No.
At sixteen:
He read one.
It began badly.
I never intended sixteen minutes outside to become the defining event of our family.
Bodie stopped.
“Still about her.”
“Yes.”
He put it away.
At nineteen, another letter.
Better.
I locked you outside because I believed discomfort would make you stop resisting me, and because I had convinced myself children were safer when adults obeyed one authority.
He continued.
I knew your father feared challenging me. I used that fear.
Then:
Your mother’s questions threatened money and control I had mistaken for my identity. None of that was your responsibility.
Bodie read silently.
“Do I have to answer?”
“No.”
He didn’t.
At twenty-three:
One mediated meeting.
First question:
“Why the moose?”
Gretchen looked confused.
“My stuffed moose. Why throw it?”
Her face changed.
“Because you were holding it like protection.”
Bodie sat back.
“That’s awful.”
“Yes.”
“Did you want me scared?”
“Yes.”
No minimizing.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Then:
“Did Dad tell you to put me outside?”
“No.”
“Did he know you would?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Gretchen cried.
“Good?”
“I want the bad things in the right size.”
That was my son.
May you like
Precision.
No second meeting.
