Chapter 12 - WHEN GRANT FINALLY SAW HIS DAUGHTER, SHE ASKED HIM THE QUESTION I HAD WAITED TEN YEARS TO HEAR
Lily was eleven when professionals agreed to an in-person prison visit.
Her choice.
Not mine.
I asked three times.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“You can change your mind.”
“I know.”
“You don't owe him—”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You're doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you ask the same question until I give the answer you want.”
I froze.
Then laughed.
“Fair.”
My daughter was learning boundaries too well.
Good.
I drove her.
Dad offered.
I refused.
This wasn't Arthur Vance's moment.
Inside the visitation room, Grant appeared behind a secured partition before entering the supervised family area.
He looked older.
Much older.
Gray hair.
Thin.
No expensive suit.
No power.
Just a man.
Lily stared.
Grant stopped.
His face crumpled.
“Hi.”
Lily said:
“Hi.”
He looked at me.
“Claire.”
“Grant.”
Then back to Lily.
“You've gotten so big.”
She frowned.
“You've never seen me.”
He almost laughed.
“Fair.”
They sat.
I remained nearby but gave space.
At first, dinosaurs.
School.
Books.
Then Lily asked:
“Why did you hit Mom?”
The room froze.
Grant looked at me.
I didn't rescue him.
This was his answer.
He swallowed.
“Because I was angry.”
Lily waited.
“That isn't a reason.”
My heart almost burst with pride.
Grant nodded.
“You're right.”
He tried again.
“Because I believed being angry gave me permission to control people.”
Lily listened.
“I was wrong.”
“Did Mom hit you?”
“No.”
“Did she cheat?”
“No.”
“Did she steal from you?”
“No.”
“Then why were you angry?”
Grant's eyes filled.
“Because she told me no.”
Silence.
Lily looked at me.
Then him.
“You hit someone because they told you no?”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
I covered my mouth.
Grant laughed.
A broken little laugh.
“Yes.”
“It was.”
Then Lily asked:
“Did you know about me?”
“Not when I hit her.”
“Would you have stopped if you knew?”
Grant opened his mouth.
Closed it.
I held my breath.
He could have lied.
He didn't.
“I don't know.”
That answer hurt.
But it was honest.
Grant continued.
“I want to say yes.”
His voice cracked.
“But the person I was then cared more about getting what he wanted than protecting people.”
Lily stared.
“Are you still that person?”
“I’m trying not to be.”
“That's not an answer.”
Grant smiled sadly.
“No.”
Then:
“I don't think I am.”
Lily nodded.
The visit lasted ninety minutes.
At the end, Grant asked:
“Can I hug you?”
Lily thought.
“No.”
Grant's face fell.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
She stood.
Walked three steps.
Stopped.
Turned.
“Maybe next time.”
Grant cried.
So did I.
In the car, Lily was silent.
Then:
“I like him.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Okay.”
“Does that hurt you?”
Truth.
“A little.”
She looked worried.
“But that's mine to manage.”
I said.
“You don't have to hate someone because I was hurt by him.”
She relaxed.
“Can I love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Grandpa definitely doesn't.”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Vanessa?”
“Complicated.”
Lily sighed.
“Adults are exhausting.”
Correct.
That night, I told Dad about the visit.
He listened.
Then asked:
“Did she hug him?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“She said maybe next time.”
His expression darkened.
“Arthur.”
He sighed.
“Her choice.”
“Yes.”
“I'm learning.”
May you like
Still.
All of us were.
