Chapter 28 - Wes's Second Letter
Wes wrote again in November.
Paper this time.
The letter arrived through Elena because he still respected the contact boundary.
That fact mattered before I read a word.
Maren,
I have been trying to figure out why every apology I make sounds like an argument.
My counselor says it is because I still want to control the result.
I think he is right.
So I am going to write what I should have written before, and I am not asking for a reply.
I forged your consent because I wanted access to something that was not mine.
I involved Mom because I knew she would choose avoiding conflict over protecting you.
I used Talia’s mistake because it gave me cover.
I blamed you when consequences came because blaming you felt better than admitting I had built the problem.
I used your children’s exclusion at Thanksgiving as punishment.
I later tried to hurt your business because I wanted public sympathy.
None of those things happened because you were difficult, unforgiving, richer than me, Dad’s favorite, or unwilling to help.
They happened because I made choices that benefited me and expected you to absorb the cost.
I am sorry.
I read that section three times.
There was more.
He apologized for approaching the school.
For using Carol.
For lying to Sophie and Mason.
For expecting Mom to defend him.
Then:
I am not asking to come to Thanksgiving.
I am not asking to enter your home.
I am not asking you to tell anyone I have changed.
If I have changed, that will be visible over time without your endorsement.
I hope Addie and Finn know that what happened to them was not because they were less loved.
I acted as if their feelings mattered less because I was angry with you.
That was cruel.
I will respect whatever relationship they choose to have or not have with me.
Wes
I put the letter down.
Then I cried.
Not beautifully.
I cried with my elbows on the kitchen table and mascara on my sleeve.
Daniel found me twenty minutes later.
He saw the letter.
“Do you want me to read it?”
“Yes.”
He read silently.
When he finished, he placed it back on the table.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“Does it change what you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
I hated how often people who loved me allowed uncertainty.
It gave me nowhere to hide from my own decisions.
That evening, I showed the letter to Owen.
Not the twins.
Not yet.
He read it.
“He finally said it.”
“Yes.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I spent years waiting for this.”
“And?”
“Now that I have it, I don’t know what to do.”
Owen nodded.
“Maybe nothing.”
That possibility had not occurred to me.
An apology did not require action.
I could receive it.
Believe parts of it.
Keep boundaries.
Continue living.
The next morning, I asked Addie and Finn whether they wanted to know what Wes had written.
Both said yes.
We sat at the kitchen table.
I read the portions concerning them.
Finn stared at his hands.
Addie wiped her eyes angrily.
“He remembers Thanksgiving?”
“Yes.”
“I thought maybe he didn’t.”
“He remembers.”
Finn asked, “Did he say sorry to us or just you?”
“To me about what he did to you.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
Finn looked toward the window.
“I want him to say it to me.”
Addie nodded.
“Me too.”
My stomach tightened.
“You don’t owe him a meeting.”
“We know,” Addie said.
“I need you to really know.”
“We do.”
Finn added, “Mom, you say that every time.”
“I am consistent.”
“You are repetitive.”
I ignored him.
“What kind of meeting?”
“Somewhere public,” Addie said.
“With Dad there,” Finn added.
“And you,” Addie said.
I hesitated.
“If you want me.”
“We do.”
I contacted Patricia.
Two weeks later, we met in a private room at a community center.
Wes arrived first.
He looked terrified.
Good, some small part of me thought again.
This time, I let that part exist without letting it drive.
Addie and Finn sat across from him.
Owen and I stayed slightly behind them.
Patricia explained that the children could end the conversation at any time.
Wes nodded.
He looked at Addie.
Then Finn.
“I’m sorry.”
Finn waited.
“For what?”
Wes swallowed.
“For making you feel unwelcome at Thanksgiving because I was angry with your mom.”
Finn’s eyes filled.
Wes continued.
“For letting adults act like you were the problem.”
Addie crossed her arms.
“Did you love Sophie and Mason more?”
“No.”
“You acted like it.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought your mom would give me what I wanted if hurting you made her feel guilty.”
The honesty was ugly.
Necessary.
Addie started crying.
So did Wes.
He did not reach for her.
That mattered.
Finn asked, “Are you going to do it again?”
“No.”
“How do we know?”
Wes took a breath.
“You don’t.”
Nobody moved.
Then he said, “You get to watch what I do.”
Finn nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
There was no hug.
Not that day.
But when the twins stood to leave, Addie said, “Maybe you can come to one of Finn’s games.”
Finn looked offended.
“My game?”
“You hate debate tournaments.”
“That’s fair.”
Wes almost smiled.
“Only if Finn asks.”
Finn shrugged.
“Maybe.”
May you like
A tiny word.
A careful door.
