Page 94 of Absolution

“I was happy,” I admit. “Making up with my mother, finally being seen by her, it felt good. Like I’d earned something I’d been chasing for years. I was proud of it.”

She waits, doesn’t say anything. Just lets the silence settle.

“But then,” I continue, “reality hit me in the nuts. I told my kids the truth. That I’m a philandering asshole who broke their mother’s trust. And now I’m somewhere between the bottom of their shoes and the gum stuck to them.”

Her pen moves across her pad, quiet and steady. “But how do you feel?” she repeats, gently.

I close my eyes. “Relieved,” I say. “I’m relieved they know. That it’s not this secret eating me alive anymore. But I also feel like a fraud for feeling that way.”

“Because?”

“Because I still haven’t told them about Duke,” I say. The words come out in a rush. “The day they were born. What happened. They know they had a brother, Jackie told them when the girls asked why Levi got his own room and they had to share. I… I wasn’t there, I was in my office, hiding.”

She looks up from her notes. “Let’s talk about that. Apart from telling me how you messed up, you haven’t spoken much about Duke. Why?”

I stare at the floor. My voice drops.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not really. Not even Jackie. I mean… we went through it. But we never talked about it. Not out loud. I just… I buried it. Focused on the babies who made it. Moved forward. Survived.”

I run a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.

“I thought…” I pause. “I told myself he wouldn’t have made it. That my not being there didn’t make a difference. I convinced myself it didn’t matter. That pretending he didn’t exist was easier than living with the guilt of having missed his entire life. Like if I didn’t acknowledge it, I wouldn’t feel it.”

There’s a long beat.

Dr Nina asks, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“After the doctor told me about Duke, how there was a chance… that he could’ve made it if he’d been born in the hospital,something in me cracked. I just broke. Everything I’d been holding in… just spilled out.”

My voice tightens. “I was sitting outside Jackie’s room. Her sobs. God, they were gut-wrenching. And they were my fault. All of it. I didn’t know how to walk back into that room. I didn’t know how to face her. So, I just sat there, on the cold floor, bawling like a goddamn child.”

I shake my head, remembering. “Her dad found me there. I don’t even know how long I’d been sitting there. He thought I’d fallen asleep at the office. Everyone did. No one knew where I’d actually been.”

I blink hard.

“He sat next to me. Didn't yell. Didn't ask questions. Just... said, ‘What happened, happened. But you’ve got three babies fighting for their lives in there. And a wife who needs her husband more than she’ll ever admit. You can either drown in what you lost, or you show up for what’s still here.’”

I look at Dr. Nina. “So, I got up. I dusted myself off. I went into that room. And I never brought it up again.”

Another silence.

“Not because I didn’t care,” I say quietly. “But because I didn’t think I deserved to grieve him. Because grief felt like a privilege I forfeited the minute I wasn’t there.”

Dr. Nina doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t speak right away. When she does, her voice is soft.

“And now?”

I stare at the floor, my throat thick.

“Now I think… maybe Duke deserves to be remembered. Even if I screwed everything up. Even if I don’t deserve that part of him. He was still mine.”

Dr. Nina watches me carefully, like she’s trying to decide whether to push. Then she does.

“And what about Jackie?” she asks. “Does she get to remember him too?”

My eyes flick up. “Of course.”

“Because from where I’m sitting, Kyle… it sounds like not only did you stop yourself from grieving him, but you stopped her too.”

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