Chapter 18
Lily was twelve when she asked to read the court summary.
I panicked.
Then I called her therapist.
We prepared.
We sat together, me, Lily, Claire, Mara, and Rachel.
Page by page, we told the truth in pieces she could hold.
Lily listened.
Sometimes she cried.
Sometimes she got angry.
Sometimes she asked for cookies.
At the end, she closed the folder.
“I was not bad.”
“No,” I said.
“Mara was not bad.”
Mara shook her head.
“Our moms were not bad.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“No.”
Lily looked at me.
“Diane was bad.”
“Yes.”
“Ryan was bad too.”
“He made dangerous choices.”
She frowned.
“Mom, say bad.”
I swallowed.
“Yes. He was bad to us.”
She nodded, satisfied.
Children deserve clarity.
Not cruelty.
Clarity.
That night, Lily placed the folder in a box and wrote on it:
Truth, but not all the time.
I loved that.
Truth did not have to sit on the table every day.
May you like
It could live in a box until needed.
We were allowed ordinary days.
