Chapter 24
Chapter 24 - RELEASE
Brian served the custodial portion required and was released under supervision.
He moved back home.
The house still standing.
Melissa still there.
Their marriage had survived, barely.
Interesting.
I had assumed they would blame each other into divorce.
They nearly did.
Then decided not to.
Their choice.
They entered counseling.
Good luck.
Brian found work at a small hardware distributor.
Warehouse and sales support.
Lower pay.
No customer credit authority initially.
Employer knew conviction.
He accepted.
That mattered.
Then restitution payments began.
Automatic.
But not from my account.
His.
First deposit into my restitution account:
$325.
I stared.
Seventy thousand-dollar fraud reduced to $325 increments.
Justice is often boring.
Then he asked to see me.
I agreed with therapist present.
He walked in.
Hair shorter.
Face thinner.
No dramatic hug.
“Dad.”
“Brian.”
Therapist asked goals.
Brian:
“Relationship.”
Me:
“Boundaries.”
Good start.
He apologized again.
I stopped him.
“I know.”
He looked confused.
“Then what do you need?”
“Nothing from you right now.”
“That’s hard.”
“I know.”
“What can I do?”
“Pay what you owe. Keep your work. Don’t ask about my accounts. Don’t tell people I’m dependent. Don’t turn your mother’s death into proof that I couldn’t think.”
His face collapsed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Then:
“Can I call once a week?”
“No.”
“Twice a month?”
I almost laughed.
“Once a month.”
He nodded.
Negotiating contact like a payment schedule.
Maybe that is what rebuilding trust looks like at first.
Then Melissa.
I agreed to ten minutes separately.
She said:
“I want to apologize for birthday.”
“You already did in court.”
“I know.”
“Then why again?”
“Because that apology was in front of a judge.”
Fair.
She continued.
“The dog bowl was my idea.”
I had assumed Brian’s? Source Brian slides it, Melissa amused. She says her idea; okay.
“Brian agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We were angry you canceled another renovation suggestion earlier that week. You kept saying we couldn’t afford things.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I wanted you to feel small.”
There.
“Did you?”
“At the time, yes.”
“And now?”
She looked down.
“Now I know the person paying forty-seven thousand dollars toward our mortgage wasn’t the small one.”
I did not smile.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you.”
She waited.
Again.
Believing not same as restored.
We ended.
Then Brian asked if I would come to house for Thanksgiving.
“No.”
His face fell.
“Not this year.”
He nodded.
Good.
No pressure.
Carol hosted instead.
Brian and Melissa did not attend.
May you like
Separate families can still exist.
No need every holiday becomes reconciliation exam.
