Page 162 of Misery
I'm learning to live with that.
With what is rather than what should be.
Learning that sometimes the ledger doesn't balance, that sometimes you're left holding debts that aren't yours to pay, but you pay them anyway because that's what family does.
Or what family should do.
But Dad won't pay this debt.
Won't forgive. Won't see that Helle was a victim too.
He'll let her carry this guilt alone into exile because his pride matters more than his daughter.
And Mom will let him because that's what she does.
Enables. Smooths over. Pretends.
And I'll lie to them about Helle thriving at college because that's my role now.
The bridge between what is and what we pretend.
Helle will find her way, or she won't.
Either way, she'll do it on her own terms, which is more than most of us get in this life.
That has to be enough.
It's all we have.
"I love you," I tell Oskar in the darkness.
"I love you too."
Simple words for a complicated truth.
We're building something here, in this cottage, in this life.
Something that started with violation but might end with choice.
Something my sister couldn't find, but maybe we can.
Or maybe we're just better at pretending, better at accepting the unacceptable.
Either way, we're here. Still here. After everything, that's its own kind of victory.
Even if it comes at the cost of everyone else's defeat.
The spring insects sing their night songs.
Life continues.
With or without us, it continues.
Tomorrow I'll deal with my parents.
Tomorrow I'll paint for Helle.
Tomorrow I'll keep building this imperfect life with this imperfect man.
