Chapter 12
Tobin saw Jessamine again when he was six.
His choice.
He remembered her vaguely.
“Cake lady.”
Children reduce adults efficiently.
I asked:
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“Why?”
“She wants to say sorry.”
He thought.
“Does she have coins?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
We met in a public garden.
Jessamine arrived alone.
No gifts.
Good.
She crouched several feet away.
“Tobin, I’m sorry I told you we were sending you away.”
He stared.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“I cried.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Daddy no want.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
Then:
“I said something cruel because I had grown up believing adopted children had to keep proving they deserved their families.”
Tobin frowned.
Too complex.
Jessamine corrected herself.
“When I was little, I was adopted too.”
His eyes widened.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Daddy yours?”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Jessamine did too.
“No.”
Then she said:
“I was scared people would stop loving me if I made mistakes. I should never have made you scared of that too.”
Better.
Tobin thought.
Then:
“Do you still do coins?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Conversation nearly complete.
Jessamine asked:
“Can I hug you?”
He said:
“No.”
She nodded.
Good.
Then Tobin noticed ducks.
May you like
Apology over.
Children do not owe emotional climax.
