Page 68 of Absolution

I nod. “Yeah.”

We walk next door to the café. Trish usually joins us, but today’s her grandson’s birthday. The barista knows our faces by now, two regular coffees and a pastry each. Mine’s an almond croissant. Hers is some peanut butter thing I never understood. We sit near the window, the Texas sun slanting across the table. We don’t say anything until our order arrives.

Then leans forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

I tear off a piece of the croissant. “The lawyer Professor Garbonza hooked me up with, he’s good. Knows his stuff. He said I have everything I need to win if it goes to court. Proof, support system, even a therapist’s note saying I’m stable.”

“But?”

“But he says not to file yet.” I sigh. “Apparently you only get the element of surprise once. And if I tip my hand too early, Kyle will drag it out just to drain my money.”

Kate winces. “So, you tell him first?”

“Yeah. In a calm setting. No drama. Just say I know, and I want a divorce. Make it sound like a mutual separation, keep things civil for the kids. Then file.”

She leans back, lips pursed. “You think he’ll go for that?”

“I don’t care if he does or not. It’s not about him.” I swirl the coffee in my cup. “It’s about me not burning everything down unless I absolutely have to.”

Kate watches me for a long moment. “That takes strength.”

“No,” I say. “It takes kids.”

She nods. Doesn’t argue.

We finish the rest of our pastries in silence. She asks if I want company later, but I shake my head. This is something I have to do on my own.

Because today is the day.

Anyway, “Tell me about your week,” I say. “Did you finally talk to your mom?”

She sighs, eyes flicking down to her coffee. “No,” she says, turning the cup slowly between her hands.

“Kate…”

She exhales. “I know. I know I need to. But every time I try, it’s like she just... glosses over the bad shit. Like just because she’s ready now, I’m supposed to forget the past.”

Kate’s parents left when she was sixteen to “travel the world.” Just up and left. By the time they came back, she had two kids and no room for dreamers. She’s too kind to stop them from seeing the boys, but her mom’s been pushing lately. Not just to be Nana, but to beMomagain. And that line? That’s harder.

“Why don’t you tell her that?” I ask gently.

“I’ve tried. But it doesn’t help that even my therapist thinks I should forgive them. Says they did the best they could.”

“Wow.” I take a sip of my coffee. “I left once,” I say, surprising even myself with the confession. “After my parents died. I couldn’t handle it. So, I just... left. For a whole month. I didn’t see my kids. Not physically. I was drowning, in grief, in exhaustion, but I came back. Because that’s what you do.”

I meet her eyes. “So, if you’re pissed, you have the right to be. Tell your mother she did the best she could byleaving, well, you’re doing the bestyoucan by letting her and your dad have a relationship with your kids. That’s grace. That’s boundaries.”

Kate’s quiet for a moment. Then she takes a deep breath, letting it out slow. “It’s easier with my dad,” she says. “He pushed at first, but then he understood. Gave me space. Let me set the terms.”

She swallows. “My mom, though…”

“She still wants to rewrite the story,” I finish for her.

Kate nods, looking down again. “Yeah.”

We sit like that, two women holding too many truths. My hands around my cup. Hers around the past.

Some families break and heal. Others break and pretend they didn’t.

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