Chapter 14 - We Apologized to Ethan Without Asking Him to Forgive Us
The hardest apology was not Cornelius’s.
It was mine.
Ethan and I sat on the floor of his bedroom.
Mr. Rocket, his stuffed dinosaur, lay between us.
“I need to tell you something.”
He looked suspicious.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“I made a mistake.”
“About what?”
“You told me Grandpa didn’t like you.”
His expression changed.
“I remember.”
“And I kept telling you he was old-fashioned.”
“Yes.”
“I should have listened better.”
Ethan picked at the dinosaur’s tail.
“I told Dad too.”
Daniel was sitting in the doorway.
“I know,” he said.
Ethan looked between us.
“Why didn’t you believe me?”
No excuse survives a child asking directly.
I said:
“Because believing you would have meant having a fight with Grandpa, and I wanted the family to stay peaceful.”
“That’s dumb.”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
Daniel nodded.
“Very dumb.”
Ethan thought about that.
Then:
“Do you believe me now?”
“Yes.”
“That Grandpa is mean?”
I chose my words.
“I believe Grandpa did cruel things to you.”
“Is he still my grandpa?”
Daniel answered:
“Biologically, no.”
I glanced at him.
We had agreed not to hide it forever, but I had not expected the sentence that quickly.
Daniel continued gently.
“He raised me, so he was my dad. Families can be more than DNA.”
Ethan frowned.
“Do I have to call him Grandpa?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then he picked up Mr. Rocket.
“Can Victor be Grandpa?”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“Maybe someday if everybody wants that.”
Ethan shrugged.
“Okay.”
Children often refuse to perform the dramatic closure adults expect.
He wanted lunch.
That was all.
Later, Daniel told me:
“I keep wanting Ethan to forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For not stopping Dad sooner.”
“That isn’t Ethan’s job.”
Daniel nodded.
May you like
Neither of us asked our son for absolution again.
We changed behavior instead.
