Chapter 19
Diane died seven years after the kitchen.
Nora called.
Then Laura.
Then Dad.
Everyone asked if I was okay.
I was.
Mostly.
I felt no joy.
No grief.
Only the closing of a door I had stopped standing near.
Ryan sent no message.
Good.
Laura and I went to the cemetery separately from Diane’s family.
Not to her grave.
To visit the graves of the women we used to be.
That sounds strange.
But it felt true.
We stood under a tree near the edge of the property.
Laura said, “I buried the version of me who begged him to believe me.”
I said, “I buried the version of me who thought being chosen meant being safe.”
We held hands.
Then we left.
No flowers.
No drama.
Just release.
Dad hosted dinner that night.
Melissa came.
Karen came.
Paige came.
Nora came late with files and pie.
Second Stand had helped hundreds by then.
Women.
Men.
Children.
People trapped by money, shame, family pressure, and polite violence.
At the table, Dad raised his glass.
“To walking out.”
May you like
Laura added, “Even if you limp.”
I laughed until I cried.
