Chapter 25 - The first supervised visit
Rosie did not see Bethany for nearly three years.
Not because I told her she never could.
Because Rosie consistently said no.
Then, shortly before turning seven, she asked:
“Does Aunt Bethany still look the same?”
“Yes.”
“Does she still drink red stuff?”
“Wine?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
Then:
“Can I see her if you’re there?”
We discussed it with Rosie’s therapist.
The first meeting happened at a family center.
Thirty minutes.
Bethany was already seated.
No wine.
No cosmetic bag.
Nothing in her hands.
Rosie entered beside me.
Bethany did not approach.
“Hi, Rosie.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
Then Rosie asked:
“Why did you say it was a joke?”
Bethany cried immediately.
I hated that.
Not because she had no right to cry.
Because Rosie watched her reaction and started looking guilty.
Bethany noticed.
She wiped her face.
“That isn’t your job.”
Rosie frowned.
“What?”
“Making me feel better.”
Better.
Then Bethany answered:
“I called it a joke because saying I hurt you sounded worse, and I was trying to make what I did sound smaller.”
Rosie nodded.
“That was lying.”
May you like
“Yes.”
Simple.
