Chapter 13
Lucy and Jack moved into a small yellow house near the school.
I helped with boxes when invited.
Only then.
Jack carried Mommy’s books.
Lucy carried the framed photo of him at age four.
I carried kitchen chairs.
We were not a family again.
Not like before.
But we were no longer enemies standing on Diane’s lies.
Co-parenting began slowly.
Written schedules.
Therapist guidance.
Supervised exchanges.
Then unsupervised afternoons.
Jack tested everything.
If he got angry, would I blame Lucy?
No.
If he missed a call, would I accuse her of keeping him away?
No.
If he asked hard questions, would I answer?
Yes.
One evening, he asked, “Did you want Mom gone?”
The question gutted me.
“No.”
“But it was easier?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes. At first, I let myself believe it was easier.”
He nodded.
“That’s bad.”
“Yes.”
“You’re different now.”
“I’m trying.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then handed me a game controller.
“Try at this too. You’re terrible.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
Small.
Real.
May you like
I lost three games in a row.
Best losses of my life.
