Chapter 20 - Claire Does Not Forgive Me on Schedule
A year after the attack, Claire and I were still separated.
Friends started asking:
“Are you getting divorced?”
I answered:
“I don’t know.”
Correct.
Claire hated the word forgive.
Not forever.
At that stage.
She said:
“Everyone wants to know when I forgive because then they can stop feeling uncomfortable.”
There.
My father—still alive and retired in Florida—called.
“You made a terrible mistake. Don’t throw away a marriage.”
I said:
“I am not the person who decides whether Claire stays.”
He disliked that.
“Fight for her.”
“What does that mean?”
“Show her.”
I had spent eight years showing outcomes instead of giving information.
No grand gesture.
No yacht.
No surprise vacation.
No second proposal.
I attended therapy.
Answered questions.
Shared calendar.
Stopped using my assistant to manage personal parenting transitions.
Claire received direct access to information concerning anything that affected Lily.
Not surveillance of Ryan’s private therapy.
Boundaries.
When I traveled to see Ryan, I said:
“I’m seeing Ryan Saturday.”
Not:
Meeting.
When I had juvenile court:
“Ryan’s hearing is at ten.”
No euphemism.
Claire noticed.
One evening she asked:
“Why are you telling me where you’re going? We’re separated.”
“Because I’m practicing not dividing my life.”
She looked at me.
“That sounds rehearsed.”
“It probably is.”
She almost smiled.
Small.
Then:
“I still don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“I might never.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make you angry?”
“It makes me sad.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
May you like
We had finally become specific enough to have a chance.
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