Chapter 11 - Knowing the Truth Did Not Make Me Ethan's Parent
My first instinct after Part 10 was simple.
Take Ethan.
Raise him.
Protect him.
Never let Mom near him again.
Aunt Leah stopped me.
“You are seventeen.”
“So?”
“So you are his sister.”
“He needs me.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn't need some court deciding—”
“He needs adults who are not asking a seventeen-year-old to abandon her future.”
That shut me up.
I hated her for approximately one evening.
Then understood.
I had spent months criticizing Mom and Gary for making Ethan carry adult consequences.
I was about to do a prettier version of the same thing.
Dependency court placed Ethan with Leah temporarily.
Then longer-term.
I stayed too until graduation.
We had separate bedrooms.
Leah handled doctors.
School meetings.
Court appointments.
Food.
Insurance.
The endless boring machinery of actually raising a child.
I helped with homework.
Played video games.
Took Ethan for ice cream.
Stayed his sister.
That mattered.
I graduated high school.
Accepted my offer from Ohio State instead of abandoning it.
Stayed close enough to visit.
Far enough to have a life that did not begin and end with protecting Ethan.
He struggled.
Nightmares.
Guilt.
Anger at Mom.
Then guilt for being angry at Mom.
He kept asking:
“Did I make Dad die because I fell asleep?”
Every adult gave the same answer.
“No.”
Then:
“Did I make Mom get arrested because I remembered?”
“No.”
Again.
Again.
Again.
Trauma apparently requires repetition more than eloquence.
I learned patience.
May you like
Not naturally.
But enough.
