Chapter 6: What Diane Had Left to Say
She stopped a few feet away.
Nathan started to stand.
She held up one hand — a small gesture, but he sat back down.
"I'm not here to ask for anything," she said.
She was looking at me, not at him.
"I want to say something, and then I'll go."
I waited.
"I told myself for years that I was protecting my son.
That I knew what was good for him better than anyone." She paused.
"Mothers tell themselves that.
It's a comfortable thing to believe."
"It is," I said.
"I watched you grieve that pregnancy.
I watched you blame yourself.
I watched Nathan try to hold both of you together." Her voice didn't waver, but something behind her eyes did.
"And I told myself it wasn't my fault.
That I hadn't caused it.
That the letter wouldn't have changed anything."
"It would have," I said.
"We would have gone to a specialist.
We would have had information.
We might have made different choices."
"I know that now."
"You knew it then."
She didn't deny it.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I know that doesn't fix it.
I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I just needed you to hear it from my mouth, not secondhand."
I looked at her for a long moment.
Twenty years.
Holiday dinners and birthday calls and a hundred small kindnesses that I had taken as genuine warmth.
Some of them probably were.
People are rarely only one thing.
But this thing — this specific, deliberate choice — had cost me more than she would ever fully understand.
"I hear you," I said.
That was all I gave her.
Diane nodded once.
She looked at Nathan.
"I'll be outside," she said quietly.
She walked away.
Nathan watched her go.
"Are you okay?" he said.
"I don't know yet."
Claire appeared from the direction of the water fountain.
She had a paper cup in each hand.
She held one out to me.
"You look like you could use this," she said.
I took it.
Cold water.
I hadn't realized how dry my throat was.
"Thank you," I said.
"For bringing the letter.
For coming today."
"I almost didn't." She sat down across from us, elbows on her knees.
"When I found it, I didn't know what to do with it.
It wasn't my family yet.
I didn't know if I had the right."
"You did the right thing."
"I hope so." She looked at Nathan.
"I know the timing was terrible."
"The timing was the only part that was terrible," he said.
"Everything else — you did exactly right."
She smiled at that.
A small, careful smile.
The smile of someone still learning what it meant to belong somewhere.
I watched her and Nathan — the way they sat, the way they spoke to each other.
Cautious.
Gentle.
Like two people who had been handed something fragile and were both trying not to drop it.
My phone buzzed.
My lawyer.
*Ready when you are.*
I looked at Nathan.
"I need to think," I said.
"Not here.
Not today."
"I know."
"I'm not saying yes to anything.
I'm not saying no.
I just need time."
"Take whatever you need."
I stood up.
Claire stood up too, instinctively, like she wasn't sure of the protocol but wanted to get it right.
"It was good to meet you," I said to her.
"Under different circumstances, I think I would have liked to do this properly."
"Me too," she said.
"I hope we still can."
May you like
I walked back toward my lawyer.
Behind me, I heard Nathan exhale — long and slow, like he'd been holding it since the moment I walked into that courthouse.
