“Is she okay? Brenda?”
“She’s more than okay. She’s happy. She has a beautiful life. A life you can never touch.”
“I’m glad. I truly am glad.”
I hung up after that. I didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say.
I told Brenda about the call.
“And how did you feel hearing it?” she asked.
“I think he really has changed. Or at least he’s trying. But that no longer matters to us, right?”
“No. Not anymore. I’m happy for him. Truly. I hope he finds peace. But that peace has nothing to do with me.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you know what the most liberating thing about all this is, Mommy?”
“What?”
“That I no longer care if he suffers or if he’s happy. He no longer takes up space in my head. He no longer takes up space in my heart. He’s just someone I knew a long time ago. Nothing more.”
That is the true healing. When someone who was once your entire world becomes a stranger. Not with hatred. Not with resentment. Simply with indifference.
Yesterday was Ellena’s birthday. We had a party in the garden of Brenda and Andrew’s house. There were colored balloons, chocolate cake, children running everywhere. Ellena opened her gifts with that pure excitement that only children have. And when she finished, she ran toward me.
“Grandma, tell me a story.”
“What kind of story do you want?”
“A princess story.”
I sat her on my lap.
“How about I tell you a different story? A story about a princess who didn’t need a prince to save her. A princess who saved herself.”
Her eyes shone.
“Yes. That one.”
And as I told her the story, I saw Brenda watching us from afar, smiling, her eyes wet. Because she knew. She knew that the story I was telling Ellena wasn’t just a fairy tale.
It was our story.
The story of how a woman lost herself and then found herself. The story of how true love, a mother’s love, can move mountains. The story of how justice, true justice, is not about destroying others. It is about building yourself.
This morning, before sitting down on this balcony with my coffee, Brenda sent me a message.
