Chapter 8 - Linda’s Apology Was Not About Loving Ava
Linda asked to apologize when Ava was five months old.
I agreed to hear her.
Not to bring Ava.
Linda looked disappointed.
Then caught herself.
Good.
She said:
“I love that baby more than anything.”
I answered:
“That isn’t an apology.”
She stared.
Then tried again.
“I was afraid.”
“Still not.”
She cried.
For years, Linda had used love and fear as arguments.
I love you, therefore I interfere.
I’m afraid, therefore I decide.
Finally she said:
“I grabbed you while you were holding Ava.”
“Yes.”
“I tried to take her after you said no.”
“Yes.”
“I told Daniel you dropped her even though I knew she never left your arms.”
There.
“Yes.”
“And I had been sending him things about you because I wanted him to see what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
Linda looked down.
“A mother about to fail.”
That hurt.
Then:
“I had already decided.”
Exactly.
She cried harder.
“You could have done everything perfectly and I probably would have found something.”
That was the deepest confession.
The problem had never been my performance.
It was her theory.
I asked:
“Why did you need Daniel to believe you?”
She took a long time.
Then:
“Because if you were capable without me, I didn’t know what my place was.”
There.
Not only trauma.
Need.
Daniel was her only child.
She had spent decades being necessary.
Then he married.
Then became a father.
Grandmotherhood gave her a new role.
But only if help was required.
I said:
“You wanted to be needed.”
“Yes.”
“That is not the same as being loved.”
Linda covered her face.
I understood that wound more than I wanted to.
So did I.
I had been trying to prove I needed nobody.
We stood at opposite ends of the same mistake.
Human worth measured through function.
Linda asked:
“Will you ever trust me with Ava?”
“I don’t know.”
She cried.
I let the answer remain.
May you like
No promise to make her feel better.
That was new for all of us.
