Chapter 16 - The Word Sorry
I had heard Dad apologize before. Sometimes he brought flowers. Sometimes he cooked dinner and made jokes until Mom laughed. Then a week later he would shout because the towels were folded wrong. I told Ms. Dalton that I didn't trust the word anymore.
"You don't have to," she answered. "An apology is information about how someone wants to be seen. Real change has to be shown over time."
Ryan agreed to tell investigators about the money, the tracker, and the people who had visited our house. He admitted giving Dale Mercer my bus schedule. He claimed he didn't think anyone would hurt us. The prosecutor told Mom his claim would be tested against messages and other evidence, not simply accepted.
I asked whether I needed to write him back. Leah said the no-contact order meant I didn't have to receive his letters at all. I chose not to. That felt like making a decision about my own life for the first time in months.
Before the federal trial, we met with a counselor who helped Mom practice answering difficult questions without rushing. I made a paper chain from colored construction paper and hung it across the apartment window. Each link was a day we had gotten through. Mom said it looked like a party decoration.
The night before her testimony, she sat on the edge of my bed. "Tomorrow they might make me sound careless or foolish," she said. "Remember that I told the truth about signing that invoice. I won't hide it just because it hurts."
"Will they ask about Aunt Lena?"
"Yes."
"Then tell them she was funny."
May you like
Mom smiled sadly. "I will."
The next morning, a defense attorney stepped into the courtroom carrying an enlarged copy of the voucher Mom had signed. As she took the witness chair, he held it up for every juror to see.
