Chapter 19 - ISAAC CHOSE WHEN TO SEE PRUDENCE AGAINA year after the bathroom video, Isaac asked:
“Can I see Aunt Prudence?”
Cedric stopped washing dishes.
“Why?”
Isaac shrugged.
“I think I want to.”
“Did someone ask you?”
“No.”
“Meredith?”
“No.”
“Therapist?”
“She said it was my choice.”
Cedric dried his hands.
“Are you sure?”
“I think.”
“That’s not the same as sure.”
Isaac frowned.
“Do I have to be one hundred percent?”
Cedric smiled slightly.
“No.”
They discussed it with Dr. Reed.
A supervised meeting.
Neutral place.
Forty-five minutes.
Isaac could leave anytime.
Prudence agreed to every condition.
The meeting happened in a counseling center.
Cedric sat outside the room but remained visible through an interior window.
Prudence entered first.
She looked older.
Hair shorter.
No expensive jewelry.
Isaac entered.
She stood.
Then stopped herself from approaching.
“Hi.”
Isaac looked at her.
“Hi.”
For several seconds, silence.
Then Prudence said:
“I like your shoes.”
Isaac looked down.
Cedric’s chest tightened.
Shoes.
The bathroom incident had started over shoes.
Maybe Prudence remembered too.
Isaac answered:
“They’re new.”
“They look fast.”
“They are.”
Silence again.
Then Isaac asked:
“Why did you hate me?”
Cedric almost stood.
Dr. Reed remained calm.
Prudence’s face changed.
“I didn’t hate you.”
Isaac frowned.
“You acted like it.”
Prudence began crying.
“You’re right.”
Isaac waited.
Prudence did not defend herself.
“I was angry at people who weren’t there.”
“What?”
“Your mom. My dad. Your dad. Myself.”
Isaac looked confused.
Prudence continued.
“And I took some of it out on you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were there.”
That answer was brutally simple.
Isaac stared.
“That’s dumb.”
Prudence laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
“Really dumb.”
“Yes.”
Isaac crossed his arms.
“Did you really want me to go to Utah?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Thirty days.”
“Why?”
Prudence swallowed.
“Because I wanted time to fix a money problem.”
Isaac’s face hardened.
“You sent me away for money?”
“I planned to.”
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
Prudence did not ask him to soften.
Good.
Isaac looked toward Cedric through the glass.
Cedric nodded slightly.
You’re safe.
Isaac turned back.
“Did you think Dad wouldn’t notice?”
Prudence looked ashamed.
“I thought I could explain it.”
“He would notice.”
“Yes.”
“I notice when he’s gone.”
Prudence cried.
“I know.”
Isaac sat back.
Then asked:
“Do you still want the house?”
Cedric stopped breathing.
Prudence almost smiled sadly.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
“Because wanting it ruined things I should have cared about more.”
Isaac thought.
“Like me?”
Prudence’s face collapsed.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Isaac said:
“I don’t forgive you yet.”
Prudence nodded.
“Okay.”
“Maybe later.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe not.”
Her eyes filled.
“Okay.”
Cedric looked down.
That was the moment he understood Prudence had changed more than he expected.
The old Prudence would have argued.
Cried louder.
Mentioned family.
Demanded hope.
This Prudence accepted uncertainty.
The meeting ended after thirty-seven minutes.
Isaac walked out.
Cedric crouched.
“How are you?”
“Weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“Both.”
“Want ice cream?”
“Yes.”
Simple recovery.
They drove to a shop.
Isaac ordered too many toppings.
Cedric said nothing.
Afterward, Isaac asked:
“Do you forgive her?”
Cedric stared ahead.
“Not completely.”
“Why?”
“She hurt you.”
Isaac thought.
“But she hurt you too.”
“Yes.”
“So we both decide?”
“Separately.”
Isaac nodded.
That answer satisfied him.
Months later, Prudence began supervised calls.
Slowly.
No demands.
Cedric never returned her access to the house.
Never restored legal authority.
Never involved her in finances.
Forgiveness, if it came, would not mean restored control.
That distinction saved them.
On the anniversary of Hannah’s death, Cedric and Isaac visited her grave.
Isaac brought flowers.
Then said:
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think Mom knew Aunt Prudence would be mean?”
Cedric thought of the recording.
The letter.
Hannah’s warning.
“She worried.”
“Why didn’t she stop her?”
“She tried to warn me.”
Isaac looked at him.
“You didn’t listen?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Same thing?”
Cedric almost smiled.
“No.”
Then he corrected himself.
“Sometimes.”
Isaac looked curious.
Cedric continued.
“Sometimes people tell us things in small ways, and we don’t understand until later.”
Isaac nodded.
“Like when I said I didn’t want you to travel?”
Cedric’s chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“Do you listen now?”
“Yes.”
Isaac smiled.
“Good.”
Cedric looked at Hannah’s grave.
He had spent years wishing he could ask her what to do.
Maybe she had already told him.
Notice.
May you like
Listen.
Stay.
