Chapter 17 - The Daughter Who Could Take It
Dad asked me to meet him outside the courthouse. He had brought a corrected statement and a photograph of the kitchen taken after the incident.
"Patricia wants me to back her up," he said. "I told her I won't."
"Did you tell the prosecutor?"
"Yesterday. I gave them everything I have."
He sat beside me on a concrete bench. For the first time I could remember, he didn't ask me to calm down.
"I need to say I'm sorry," he began.
"You can say it. That doesn't make it finished."
"I know. I should've helped Emma instead of cleaning up after Vanessa. I should've spoken when I heard what she said. I was afraid of losing your mother."
"You were willing to lose your granddaughter instead."
He covered his face with both hands. "Yes."
The word sat between us. It was terrible. It was also the first true answer he'd given me without an excuse.
Mom arrived with Tess a few minutes later. Tess had agreed to be present only because Mom said she would finally explain herself. We stood far from the courthouse entrance so nobody had to perform for passersby.
"I didn't tell Vanessa to hit Emma," Mom said.
"Then tell the prosecutor that," I answered. "And tell them you turned the camera off."
"I thought if Emma learned to stay in her own place, the girls wouldn't fight."
"Lily invited her to sit there."
Mom looked away. "Vanessa was always fragile. When people challenged her, she'd come apart."
"And Emma?"
"I thought you'd handle it. You always handle things."
I felt something inside me settle into a hard, clear shape.
"You chose Vanessa because I was the daughter who could take being hurt. Then you expected Emma to be that kind of child too."
Mom started crying. I didn't move to comfort her.
"Will you correct your statement?" I asked.
May you like
She finally nodded. But the next words were not an apology.
"If I do," she whispered, "will you let me see Emma again?"
