Chapter 20 - Healing in Fragments
Many people tell me I was foolish to let Natalie walk free. They say she deserved to rot behind bars for stealing a decade of my life. Maybe they are right. But I was not going to build a relationship with my son by locking away the woman he had called Mom for twelve years. That price of justice was mine to pay, not his to bear.
Natalie moved away to Denver to have Eric’s baby alone; Jason, the real father, had abandoned her shortly after the party. To this day, she still blames me. I refuse to carry her guilt anymore. I never saw Eric again after the divorce papers were finalized.
Forgiving my mother has been harder. Some forgiveness does not come in a single, sweeping wave; it arrives in tiny, jagged fragments over years.
Oliver moved into my house. At first, he barely spoke. He kept his bedroom door firmly closed and formally called me “Lauren.” I never pushed him. I had twelve years to love him from afar; he had twelve years of believing a lie. I could be patient.
Last Sunday, I made him scrambled eggs and beans. I took the tiny blue knitted cap out of the old bread bag and placed it beside his plate. He picked it up, letting it rest in his palm.
“Was this mine?” he asked quietly.
“I knitted it for you,” I said. “Before they told me you had died.”
May you like
He sat silently, then slipped it into his pocket. He didn't call me Mom. Not yet. But later, without looking up from his phone, he asked if I could make him eggs again next Sunday.
I smiled. “Every Sunday,” I told him. “For as long as you want.”
