Chapter 12 - GISELLE AND I MET AGAIN AFTER TWENTY YEARS
I saw Giselle in an airport lounge.
Twenty years after Hayden’s birth.
I recognized her immediately.
She recognized me too.
For one second, both of us considered pretending.
Then she stood.
“Marissa.”
“Giselle.”
Her hair was shorter.
Gray at the temples.
She wore no dramatic jewelry.
That detail annoyed me.
Why did I still notice?
Memory.
“Are you well?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then:
“I heard Hayden is in medical-device engineering.”
I stiffened.
“How?”
“Raymond mentioned it to a mutual former colleague.”
Fine.
No stalking.
No secret contact.
“He’s doing well.”
“I’m glad.”
She looked toward empty chair.
“Can I sit?”
We were already in lounge.
I nodded.
Then she said:
“I’m sorry.”
I almost smiled.
“You already wrote.”
“I know.”
“I received it.”
She looked surprised.
“Hayden read it when he was fourteen.”
Her face changed.
“Did he…”
“No response.”
She nodded.
“I didn’t expect one.”
Good.
Then Giselle told me about her life.
She moved to Colorado after probation.
Worked first in nonprofit communications.
Then at a community-college foundation.
Eventually became executive director.
Married once.
Divorced amicably.
No children.
I did not know why she was telling me.
Maybe because twenty years turns enemies into strange witnesses.
Then she said:
“I used to hate you.”
“I know.”
“I thought you had everything.”
Interesting.
“Raymond.”
“Money.”
“Company history.”
“Pregnancy.”
I stared.
“You were jealous I was pregnant?”
She looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
She had wanted children.
Raymond told her he did not.
Then I became pregnant.
He told Giselle it was an accident and that he felt trapped.
False.
Hayden was planned.
I had stopped correcting every lie long ago.
But this one still hurt.
“He wanted Hayden.”
Giselle closed her eyes.
“I know now.”
There.
“He told me after everything.”
She continued.
“I thought if you stayed in his life, he would never fully choose me.”
That sentence sounded familiar from a thousand betrayal stories.
Competition created by one person keeping two people insecure.
“I followed you because I wanted you to stop contacting him.”
“I wasn’t contacting him personally.”
“I know.”
Lawyers.
Prenatal updates.
Necessary.
“He made every legal notice sound like manipulation.”
Yes.
Then:
“I pushed you because you said, ‘Raymond will eventually have to answer for what he’s done.’”
I remembered.
Not exactly?
Maybe I said something like that.
Giselle interpreted as threat to their wedding.
“I thought you meant the affair.”
“I meant Palmer Ridge records.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I didn’t know those existed.”
Then:
“I spent years thinking if I had known, I wouldn’t have pushed you.”
She looked at me.
“That’s another excuse.”
Good.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you if the only thing you planned to expose was an affair.”
Correct.
No victim needs a sufficiently noble reason to avoid violence.
Then she said:
“I am sorry Hayden’s first weeks were harder because of me.”
My eyes filled.
“That is the part I still struggle with.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
No demand.
Then:
“Do you forgive me?”
Twenty years.
I thought.
“Yes.”
Her face broke.
“Completely?”
“No.”
She laughed through tears.
“Fair.”
“I forgive you enough that seeing you does not ruin my day.”
She smiled.
“That’s a generous standard.”
“It took time.”
Then the boarding announcement came.
We stood.
No hug initially.
Giselle hesitated.
“May I?”
I thought.
Then yes.
Brief.
Human.
I boarded my flight.
No shaking.
No replay.
I texted Jonathan:
YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I JUST SAW.
He replied:
RAYMOND’S OLD ACCOUNTANT?
I laughed.
Wrong villain.
Then Hayden called.
I told him.
He became quiet.
“Did she ask about me?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That you’re doing well.”
“Okay.”
Then:
“Do you want her email someday?”
He thought.
“No.”
“Okay.”
No pressure.
Two years later, he changed his mind.
I gave it.
He wrote Giselle one message:
I read your letter. I don’t want a relationship, but I accept that you are sorry. I hope you’re well.
She replied:
Thank you. I will not contact you again unless you choose.
Good.
Boundaries honored.
Then Raymond learned.
He said:
“I’m glad.”
No jealousy.
No attempt to manage.
People truly can become different.
May you like
Not clean.
Different.
