Chapter 13
Lissette met Anselm alone almost a year after the fire-pit incident.
Not because they were estranged.
Because there was something she had postponed saying.
Marcellus was asleep at home with his father.
Lissette sat across from Anselm in a quiet restaurant.
“Why didn’t you see it?”
He knew what she meant.
“The way Mom treated me.”
Anselm looked down.
“I saw pieces.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“I saw your mother favor Corinne when Corinne was hurting.”
“For thirty years?”
“No.”
He rubbed one hand over his face.
“Your mother always had categories. Corinne was the serious one. You were the resilient one.”
Lissette almost laughed.
“So I needed less?”
“That’s what we told ourselves.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
Good.
He did not make Theodora carry every parenting failure.
Anselm continued.
“When Corinne lost pregnancies, I let your mother organize the entire family around protecting her.”
“I wanted to protect her too.”
“I know.”
“But then I got pregnant.”
“And we treated your happiness like something that needed volume control.”
Lissette looked away.
That sentence hurt because it was accurate.
Anselm said:
“I thought keeping the peace meant making sure Corinne never felt replaced.”
“And what did it mean for me?”
“That you kept shrinking.”
Silence.
Then Lissette asked:
“When Mom said Corinne deserved the first grandchild, did you ever hear her say anything like that before?”
Anselm hesitated.
“Once.”
Lissette’s eyes lifted.
“When?”
“The week you announced the pregnancy.”
“What did she say?”
Anselm hated repeating it.
“She said, ‘This is going to destroy Corinne.’”
Lissette waited.
“And you said?”
“That babies are not assigned by seniority.”
“Then?”
“She cried.”
“So you dropped it.”
“Yes.”
Lissette nodded slowly.
The same mechanism.
Theodora’s pain entered the room.
Everyone else stopped speaking.
Anselm said:
“I am sorry.”
Lissette believed him.
That did not end the conversation.
She asked:
“Are you going to have a relationship with Corinne?”
Anselm answered honestly.
“Through a therapist and letters, maybe. She’s still my daughter.”
Lissette nodded.
She did not object.
That choice belonged to him.
“Are you going to ask me to?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
That answer mattered.
Then he asked:
“Do you want me to tell you if she says something about you?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“If there is a legal or safety issue, tell my lawyer.”
“Understood.”
The boundary became specific.
Not dramatic estrangement.
Not forced reunion.
Anselm could remain Corinne’s father without turning Lissette into part of his reconciliation process.
That resolved one relationship.
Theodora was different.
Anselm’s divorce was nearly final.
He communicated with her only through lawyers.
May you like
There was no emotional ambiguity left there.
After forty years, that door was closed.
