Chapter 22 - CAMILLE MEETS ME
Camille asked to meet when Margot was four.
Not Margot.
Me.
I agreed.
Public café.
Two hours maximum.
She arrived early.
No diamonds.
No performance.
“I’m not asking to see her.”
“Good.”
“I want to answer anything you ask.”
I thought.
“Why did you say I could have another?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because I needed to reduce pregnancy to something repeatable.”
“That’s ugly.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“If your baby was unique, then wanting her was monstrous. If you could ‘have another,’ I could pretend I was only redistributing something abundant.”
I stared.
That answer was horrifying.
Also honest.
“Did you believe it?”
“I trained myself to.”
“Did you hate me?”
“No.”
“Did you love me?”
She cried.
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Because love did not beat obsession.”
There.
No redemption bow.
No hug.
Before leaving, Camille said:
“I hope Margot never knows me as the woman who wanted to take her.”
I answered:
“That is part of who you were.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
May you like
Good.
Not erasure.
