“I took a vow to save human lives, no matter who it is.” He holds me without touching me, his words refusing to give me any room. “But if your father wasn’t lying in a coma already, knowing what he did to you, how he hurt you, I can’t promise I wouldn’t want to put him there myself.” He cups my cheek in his palm, his warmth seeping into every part of my body and soul. “Those results are yours to do with whatever you want. I can’t begin to claim I understand what you went through as a child.”
I visited a country where every crime was punished under the rule of an eye for an eye, the sentence handed down accordingly. If you stole something, the hand with which you stole could be cut off. An act of adultery could lead to a public stoning or being forcibly assaulted by other members of the village. A death could only be made right by the death of the assailant. A draconian ruling system that left no room for excuse or explanation, sentences handed down without the benefit of a jury to weigh fault or circumstance.
But I cannot stand as judge and jury against my own mother. I will not allow her to face the consequences of the only act left available to her. No matter her reason, I had the benefit of escape when she was forced to stay behind. I have never viewed it from that perspective before, never seen past my pain to envision hers. Now, knowing her act of desperation, I am ashamed to know I never bothered.
I slowly pick up the results, the bracelets my mother gave me slipping down my arm. I scan the page one last time before making my way toward the fireplace. Without David’s permission, I release the sheet into the fire, watching the edge of the paper catch the flame before being engulfed. In seconds there is nothing but ashes. Turning toward David, I expect to see disappointment, sure a man whose life has been lived under the ray of perfection cannot understand the complexities of our heartbreak. But he only nods, accepting my decision without judgment, with an understanding I have not earned.
“You didn’t try to stop me,” I say, amazed.
“You thought I would?” he asks, shaking his head in bewilderment. “That’s not how love works.”
I am silenced by his declaration, by his trust. But never having allowed myself the luxury of the emotion, I am unaware how to respond. I look away, searching, though I know deep within me the answer is standing right in front of me.
“When my ex-wife asked me for a divorce,” he begins, watching me, “she said it was because her illusion of me had been shattered. I wasn’t perfect like she thought, the ending wasn’t what she imagined.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stares at the fire that is slowly dying. “So I made myself a promise. Next time I fall in love, I will make sure to get all the bad stuff out of the way first. From both sides, that way there’s no surprises.”
“There are always surprises,” I say, thinking of my sisters’ lives, the struggles they are facing. “Nothing is ever guaranteed.”
“Maybe,” he agrees. “But the core of the person, what makes them who they are, that never changes.”
“Then how can you love me?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can censor it. I want to take it back as soon as the words are out, ashamed for revealing too much.
“How could I not?” he asks, turning toward me. “You believe you’re damaged.” He nods, accepting what is. “And because of that you’ve decided you’re not allowed happiness, or love. I have to respect your decision.” He pauses, his yearning palpable. Leaning down, he kisses me softly on the cheek. “But just for the record? You’re the most amazing woman I know. It’s not in spite of your childhood, it’s because of it.” Holding my gaze, he says quietly, “Not everyone can survive what you did and come out the other side with your strength. I love you for who you are, the good and the bad.”