Chapter 11
I ended the wedding formally the next morning.
No delayed decision.
No secret hope.
Preston came alone.
Placed the golf club on my desk.
“I don’t want it.”
I looked at the metal.
“That’s your decision.”
“What should I do with it?”
“Why are you asking me?”
He understood.
Because he still wanted a stronger person to tell him the correct thing.
Father.
Then fiancée.
Now former fiancée.
He sat.
“I don’t know how to decide what things mean anymore.”
That was perhaps the first honest description of his problem.
Warren had assigned meaning to everything.
Mother leaves = betrayal.
Father controls = protection.
Marriage = merger.
Wife refuses = humiliation.
Husband asserts = leadership.
A complete dictionary built before Preston knew he could reject definitions.
I looked at him.
“Start with actions.”
He waited.
“You locked a door.”
His face tightened.
“You cornered me.”
He nodded.
“You swung.”
Another nod.
“Those things happened regardless of what your father taught.”
“Yes.”
Good.
“Now decide what kind of man does them again.”
He looked down.
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
Simple.
Not easy.
The engagement ring stayed with me.
The club left with Preston.
He did not throw it away.
Not yet.
Good.
May you like
Destroying an object can become another shortcut.
He needed to understand before symbolically cleansing himself.
