Chapter 24
The decision came three days later.
A registered letter.
*Parole DENIED.*
*Inmate Bennett will serve the remainder of her four-year sentence. Eligible for re-hearing in twelve months.*
I read the letter three times.
Then I taped it to the fridge.
Right next to Ethan’s soccer trophy and Sophie’s debate award.
Melissa would stay in.
Two more years.
Maybe more, if they denied her again next year.
It wasn’t forever.
But it was something.
It was enough time for the kids to grow up a little more.
Enough time for us to build our life without looking over our shoulders.
Enough time for Melissa to think about what she’d done.
Or not.
I didn’t care anymore.
That summer, we went to the beach.
A week in a little cottage right on the ocean.
Max came too.
He loved the water.
Spent all day chasing waves and digging holes and eating sand.
Ethan learned to surf.
Well, he learned to stand up on the board for three seconds before falling off.
But he was proud.
Sophie read five books in seven days.
Said she was preparing for high school.
I sat on the porch every night, watching the sunset, drinking wine, listening to the waves.
And I thought about how far we’d come.
From that wedding day.
From the card.
From walking out with my kids, not knowing what the future held.
From CPS at the door.
From courtrooms and lawsuits and trials.
From parole hearings and prison letters.
We’d survived it all.
And we were stronger for it.
Happier.
Closer.
On the last night of the trip, we built a bonfire on the beach.
Roasted marshmallows.
Made s’mores.
Ethan got chocolate all over his face.
Sophie took a hundred photos.
Max stole a marshmallow right off Ethan’s stick and ran into the ocean with it.
We laughed until our sides hurt.
Then Ethan looked at me.
His face was golden in the firelight.
“Mom?” he said.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Remember when Aunt Melissa called me trash?”
I tensed.
We hadn’t talked about any of it in over a year.
“I remember,” I said carefully.
Ethan nodded.
Stuck another marshmallow on his stick.
“I used to think about it every day,” he said. “I used to wonder if she was right. If I really was trash. But I don’t think that anymore. You know why?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because trash gets thrown away,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And no one has ever thrown me away. You never did. Sophie never did. Mia never did. Sarah never did. Dr. Chen never did. All the people who love me? They never threw me away. So I can’t be trash. Trash doesn’t get loved this much.”
I stared at him.
My ten-year-old son.
Who’d been to hell and back.
Who’d had to learn at eight years old that the people who are supposed to love you can hurt you worst.
Who’d figured out, all on his own, the most important truth of all.
Love is the opposite of trash.
And if you’re loved?
Really loved?
You can never be trash.
No matter what anyone writes on a stupid card.
I pulled him into my lap.
Held him tight.
“You’re exactly right,” I said, my voice thick with tears. “You are so, so right. And I will love you forever. No matter what. No matter who says what. You are mine. And you are perfect. And you will never, ever be thrown away.”
Sophie leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Me too,” she said. “I’ll love you forever too, Ethan. Even when you’re being annoying.”
Ethan laughed.
“Love you too, Soph,” he said. “Even when you’re being bossy.”
We sat there like that for a long time.
The three of us.
Huddled together on the beach.
The fire crackling.
The waves crashing.
Max asleep at our feet, full of marshmallow and sand.
And I knew.
Whatever came next.
Whatever Melissa did when she got out.
Whatever Mom tried.
Whatever life threw at us.
We would be okay.
May you like
Because we had each other.
And that was more than enough.
