Chapter 15 - The Door Blythe Chose for Herself
By the following spring, Blythe lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Wheaton.
It was smaller than the suburban house she had once shared with Damon.
The kitchen cabinets were cheap.
The second bedroom barely fit Arlo’s crib and changing table.
Blythe loved it.
Every object inside had been placed there because she wanted it there.
She worked three days a week at the physical-therapy clinic.
Her income did not cover everything yet.
Temporary support and marital finances were still being resolved through the divorce.
Ellis helped.
So did childcare.
Independence turned out not to mean doing everything alone.
It meant choosing whose help came with conditions.
Arlo was healthy.
Loud.
Curious.
Obsessed with grabbing Blythe’s hair.
The first time he did it, Blythe froze.
Then he laughed.
She laughed too.
Some memories lost power by being replaced with ordinary ones.
Damon remained part of Arlo’s life only within the boundaries established through the legal process.
Supervised parenting time continued while professionals and the court evaluated what would be appropriate next.
Damon attended treatment.
Sometimes he complied well.
Sometimes communication through the parenting system revealed flashes of the same need for control.
Blythe documented facts and stopped trying to interpret his soul.
Whether Damon became a different man was his responsibility.
Whether Blythe protected herself and Arlo was hers.
The criminal consequences remained on his record according to the resolution of the case.
The financial consequences were slower.
The house was listed.
Legal fees consumed money neither of them wanted to lose.
The divorce did not turn Blythe into a wealthy winner.
It made her free enough to plan her own week.
Ellis came by every Sunday.
He never entered without knocking anymore.
Not because Blythe feared him.
Because after everything that happened, they both understood that doors mattered.
One Sunday he arrived carrying groceries and stopped in the hallway.
“Someone’s downstairs.”
Blythe looked up.
“Who?”
“Loretta.”
Blythe went still.
“I told her not to come up unless you said yes.”
Blythe walked to the window.
Loretta stood beside an old sedan in the parking lot holding a small paper bag.
No flowers.
No dramatic gift.
Probably something for Arlo.
Loretta had not seen him since the week after his birth.
She had respected every boundary Blythe established.
She had provided evidence against her own son.
She had admitted the months when she failed to act.
None of those facts canceled another.
Arlo babbled from the rug.
Blythe lifted him.
Ellis waited.
“What do you want me to tell her?”
Blythe looked down at her son.
She no longer felt pressure to forgive in order to prove she was kind.
She no longer felt pressure to refuse in order to prove she was strong.
For the first time, the decision belonged only to her.
She walked to the apartment door and opened it.
Not all the way.
Just enough to look down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Tell her she can come up,” Blythe said.
Ellis nodded.
Then Blythe added one condition.
“But she knocks.”
Ellis smiled faintly and headed downstairs.
Blythe stayed in the doorway with Arlo resting against her chest.
A minute later, the elevator indicator began moving upward.
Blythe did not know whether Loretta would ever become someone she could trust completely.
May you like
She did know one thing.
This time, when the knock came, Blythe would decide whether the door opened.
