Caleb replied, “I grew it myself.”
Marcus nearly choked laughing.
Denise said, “Technically accurate.”
Years passed.
Vanessa rebuilt her life.
Marcus knew only through lawyers at first.
Then through one unexpected source.
Caleb.
At eleven, he searched her online.
Marcus found the browser history.
“You looked her up.”
Caleb shrugged.
“Curious.”
Vanessa had moved to Chicago.
She worked in nonprofit communications.
No remarriage.
No children.
Her public profile mentioned “family narrative ethics” as a professional specialty.
Marcus laughed so hard he felt guilty.
Caleb did not.
“That’s because of us.”
“Probably.”
“She teaches it?”
“Looks like.”
Caleb stared.
“Can someone be bad at something and then teach it?”
Marcus thought.
“Yes.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Sometimes failure makes people study.”
“Do you think she changed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her to?”
“Yes.”
Caleb looked surprised.
“Why?”
Marcus answered honestly.
“Because I don’t want the worst thing she did to you to be the best thing she’s capable of for the rest of her life.”
Caleb considered.
“That’s deep.”
“I’m old.”
“You’re forty-six.”
“Ancient.”
Caleb rolled his eyes.
At twelve, he asked to write Vanessa.
Not meet.
Write.
Marcus agreed.
His letter was short.
Vanessa,
My hair grew back.
I remember what happened.
I don’t think about it every day anymore.
I read your letter.
I’m not mad every day either.
I still don’t want to see you.
Caleb.
Vanessa answered:
Thank you for telling me.
I’m glad your curls came back.
I will respect your boundary.
Vanessa.
No extra emotion.
No request.
Marcus appreciated that.
At thirteen, Caleb wanted to meet.
Then changed his mind.
At fourteen, he asked again.
They arranged it in Dr. Shah’s office.
Vanessa entered first.
Caleb had not seen her in seven years.
She looked older.
Hair shorter.
Still blond.
No white robe.
No glamorous presentation.
She stood.
Caleb stopped.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Vanessa said:
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You got tall.”
“My dad is tall.”
“I remember.”
Caleb looked at her hair.
She noticed.
“You can ask.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“About my hair.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Then he did.
“Did Dad really almost shave it?”
Vanessa laughed unexpectedly.
“Yes.”
Marcus, sitting in the adjoining room watching through a one-way clinical observation window at Caleb’s request, covered his face.
Vanessa continued.
“He stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because he was smarter than me that day.”
Caleb smiled faintly.
“He says he almost did.”
“He did more than almost.”
She touched the side of her hair.