Curtis, Released
Chapter 15 - Curtis, Released
Curtis Vale's three-year sentence concluded around the same time as the policy's second anniversary, his release drawing considerably less attention than his original crime and confession had generated, most of the public's interest in the story having long since moved on to other matters.
He reached out to Scott directly, six months after his release, requesting a meeting Scott debated accepting for several days before finally agreeing, understanding he needed his own closure regardless of whatever Curtis intended to say.
"I don't expect forgiveness," Curtis said, sitting across from Scott in a quiet coffee shop, considerably diminished from the confident hotel manager who had once destroyed Scott's career to protect his own gambling debts. "I wanted to tell you directly how genuinely sorry I am, for what it's worth after everything it's already cost you and your family."
Scott studied him for a long moment, weighing considerable anger against a specific, hard-won peace he'd worked years to build.
"I spent eleven months believing my life was permanently over," Scott said. "I lived on the street. I nearly lost my marriage, and I nearly lost my son's trust in me completely. I don't think I'm ready to offer you forgiveness today. I'm not certain I ever will be, fully."
"I understand," Curtis said.
"I will tell you this," Scott continued. "I've built something considerably better out of what you took from me than I ever imagined possible before it happened. That doesn't excuse what you did. It just means you didn't actually succeed in destroying me, however close you came."
Curtis nodded, tears falling, and Scott left the meeting without further conversation, understanding he'd said everything he genuinely needed to say, closure arriving not through forgiveness, but through the specific, complete honesty of finally confronting the man responsible, directly, on his own terms.
He told Renee about the meeting that evening, the two of them sitting together on their own back porch, considerably removed now from shelters and shame and the desperate uncertainty of that terrible year.
"How do you feel," Renee asked.
May you like
"Lighter," Scott admitted. "Not because I forgave him. Because I finally said everything I needed to say directly to his face, instead of carrying it silently the way I carried so much else during that year I was gone."
"I'm proud of you," Renee said. "For all of it. The coming home, the rebuilding, and now this too."
