I considered refusing.
Miriam told me I had no obligation to go.
Vanessa said she would support whatever I decided.
For several days, I thought about it.
I no longer needed Mark to confirm what the records proved.
I no longer needed him to tell me whether he’d loved me.
But there was one question I wanted him to answer.
So I agreed to a supervised meeting at the detention facility, with arrangements made through counsel.
Mark entered the visiting room wearing institutional clothing.
His hair was thinner.
His face looked older.
When he saw me, he tried to smile.
“Emily.”
I said nothing.
He sat across from me.
For a moment, he looked as if he might cry.
“I’ve missed you.”
I stared at him.
“Why did you tell me our daughter died?”
The smile vanished.
He looked down.
“I thought I was doing what was best.”
