Chapter 13 - MY OWN FAILURE
My therapist asked:
“When did you know Lorna disliked Estelle?”
I answered:
“I didn’t.”
She waited.
I hated therapists for silence.
Then memories arrived.
Lorna complaining that Estelle interrupted dinners.
Lorna saying Lenette “babied” her.
Lorna asking whether boarding school might eventually give me freedom.
Lorna insisting the wedding honeymoon should last five weeks without Estelle.
Lorna calling Amelia’s photographs “morbid.”
I knew.
Not abuse.
Not enough to predict the dining room.
But I knew there was resentment.
I had translated it into:
Adjustment.
Blended-family difficulty.
Stress.
Because the alternative threatened the future I wanted.
That was my failure.
Not Lorna’s abuse.
Mine.
I told Estelle in age-appropriate language:
“I should have noticed sooner that Lorna was making you scared.”
She asked:
“Did I tell you?”
“Not clearly.”
“Then how know?”
“Grown-ups have to pay attention even when kids don’t know how to explain.”
She thought.
“Are you bad daddy?”
“No.”
I almost said:
I made mistakes.
Then realized she had not asked whether I was perfect.
“No. I’m your dad. And I missed things I should’ve seen.”
She nodded.
May you like
“Okay.”
Children can hold complexity before adults stop performing it.
