Chapter 16 - HALF A LETTER, HALF A TRUTHMaisie’s first meeting with Lauren was still one week away.
She became quieter as it approached.
Not resistant.
Watchful.
Reid found her sitting beneath the side table with the red button.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
He sat on the floor beside her.
They barely fit.
“This is uncomfortable.”
Maisie smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
He looked at the button.
“Nervous?”
She nodded.
“About Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“What part?”
“What if I don’t like her?”
Reid thought.
“Then you don’t.”
Maisie looked shocked.
“That’s allowed?”
“Yes.”
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
Reid’s face tightened.
“That would be her failure.”
Maisie stared.
“Not yours.”
She touched the red button without pressing it.
“What if she cries?”
“She probably will.”
“Do I have to hug her?”
“No.”
“What if Grandma was right?”
“About what?”
“That Mom just feels guilty.”
Reid paused.
“Your mom does feel guilty.”
Maisie looked worried.
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
Maisie considered.
“Grandma makes things one thing.”
Reid stared.
“What?”
“She says people are good or bad.”
He nodded slowly.
“People usually aren’t that simple.”
“Is Grandma bad?”
The question hurt.
Reid answered carefully.
“Grandma did bad things.”
“Is Mom bad?”
“Mom did things that hurt people.”
“Are you bad?”
He almost smiled.
“I have made mistakes.”
Maisie frowned.
“That’s annoying.”
“What?”
“Nobody is one thing.”
“Pretty much.”
She leaned against him.
They stayed under the table another minute.
Then Maisie asked:
“Are you mad at Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re letting me meet her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Reid smiled sadly.
“Because my anger is mine.”
That was perhaps the most important lesson Cecelia never learned.
The day before the meeting, Lauren spoke with Dr. Price by video.
Reid was not present.
Lauren later told him:
“She asked why I stopped fighting.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
“I was scared of failing again.”
Reid waited.
“And?”
“I believed your mother when she said Maisie was better without me.”
He frowned.
“You knew Cecelia hated you.”
“Yes.”
“Why believe her?”
“Because she said what I already feared.”
That made sense.
Manipulation often worked best by confirming shame.
Lauren continued:
“I also built a life where not trying became easier.”
Reid appreciated the honesty.
“Do not tell Maisie you stayed away for her.”
“I won’t.”
“Even partly.”
“I know.”
“Adults love saying they hurt kids for the kids.”
Lauren was quiet.
“That sounded personal.”
“It is.”
She knew.
“Reid?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not making this about whether you forgive me.”
He looked toward the yard.
“This isn’t about us.”
“No.”
They both understood that perhaps for the first time.
Later that afternoon Cecelia mailed Maisie a gift.
A porcelain doll.
Reid did not give it to her.
Not because the doll was dangerous.
Because the package contained a note.
Grandma will always love you even when others confuse you.
Reid photographed it for records.
Then returned the gift unopened.
Cecelia called furious.
“You’re withholding presents now?”
“You used the note to undermine her.”
“It said I love her.”
“It also said she’s confused.”
“She is.”
“No.”
“She wants Lauren because you’re encouraging it.”
“She wants information about her mother.”
“Same thing.”
Reid sighed.
“You still don’t hear her.”
“And you suddenly do?”
The question landed.
Reid answered honestly.
“I’m trying.”
That was all he could claim.
Not perfection.
Not moral superiority.
Trying.
That night Maisie asked:
“Did Grandma send something?”
Reid hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A doll.”
“Where is it?”
“I returned it.”
Maisie looked upset.
“Why?”
He almost gave an adult explanation.
Then stopped.
“There was a message inside that I thought would make things harder.”
“You decided?”
The question surprised him.
“Yes.”
Maisie looked down.
Reid immediately understood.
He had just repeated the pattern.
Different motive.
Same removal of choice.
“I’m sorry.”
Maisie looked up.
“What?”
“I should have told you before returning it.”
“Can I see the message?”
“Yes.”
He showed her the photograph.
Maisie read it.
Then:
“I don’t want the doll.”
Reid nodded.
“Okay.”
“But next time ask me.”
He smiled sadly.
“Deal.”
May you like
Repair was not never making mistakes again.
It was noticing them sooner.
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