Chapter 8 - The Glass Wall
I flew to Seattle in February, not to save him, but to say goodbye.
The visiting room at the detention center was cold and smelled of bleach. When Tyler walked out in an orange jumpsuit, his hands shackled to his waist, I felt a brief, agonizing pang in my chest. He looked so thin. His hair was buzzed short. The imposing, terrifying giant who had struck me in my kitchen looked like a scared little boy again.
He sat down on the other side of the reinforced glass and picked up the phone. His eyes were desperate.
"You came," he breathed, tears instantly spilling down his cheeks. "Mom, thank God. Did you talk to Evelyn? Can she represent me?"
I picked up my phone. "Hello, Tyler."
"Mom, please. They're talking about five years. I can't survive five years in here. You have to help me."
"I didn't come to help you, Tyler," I said. My voice was incredibly steady. It surprised even me. "I came to look you in the eye and tell you that I love you. And because I love you, I am letting you go."
He stopped crying. The panic morphed instantly into the old, familiar rage. "Are you serious? You flew all the way here to gloat?"
"No. I flew here to give you the one thing I failed to give you your entire life: a consequence." I placed my hand on the glass. "You broke my heart. You broke my home. And you broke your father. You are where you belong, Tyler. And it is the only place you might actually learn how to be a man."
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"You're a miserable bitch!" he screamed, slamming his shackled fists against the glass. A guard immediately stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders.
"Goodbye, Tyler," I said. I hung up the phone, stood up, and walked out without looking back, ignoring the muffled sound of him screaming my name through the thick glass.
