Chapter 22 - The first conversation
Caleb was seven by the time he spoke directly to Vanessa again.
Seven years, two months.
We asked him.
Not once.
Several times over weeks.
His therapist asked too.
He said:
“I want her to say sorry.”
So we arranged a short meeting.
Therapist’s office.
Neutral.
Vanessa arrived first.
No gifts.
Important.
Caleb sat beside me.
Eric on his other side.
Vanessa across from us.
She looked at Caleb.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa said:
“I hit you.”
Caleb nodded.
“I should not have.”
He looked at me.
Then back.
“Because vase?”
“I was angry about the vase. But the vase did not make me hit you.”
There.
“I chose to.”
Caleb asked:
“Was it eight thousand?”
Vanessa closed her eyes briefly.
“No.”
“How much?”
“About fifteen hundred before it broke.”
His mouth opened.
“You lied?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted the vase to sound important.”
Caleb processed this.
Then:
“Fifteen hundred is still a lot.”
Vanessa almost smiled.
“It is.”
“I have sixty-two dollars now.”
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“No what?”
“You are not paying for the vase.”
“Why?”
“Because I am the adult who owned an expensive breakable thing on a narrow table in a room with children.”
I loved that sentence.
Caleb considered.
Then:
“I still broke it.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“I accept your apology.”
Then Vanessa said:
“I am sorry I called you and your mom paupers.”
Caleb frowned.
“I’m not a pauper.”
“No.”
“My mom says even if we were poor you shouldn’t say it mean.”
“She’s right.”
I looked away so I would not cry.
Caleb asked:
“Are you poor now?”
Vanessa blinked.
“No.”
“Oh.”
Children’s justice system can be disappointingly anticlimactic.
Then:
“Can I see the fixed vase?”
Vanessa looked at me.
I said:
“Not today.”
Good.
Meeting ended after thirty minutes.
No hug.
Caleb waved.
May you like
Vanessa waved.
Enough.
