She stood up, tears streaming down her face. You’re going to destroy us, she said. No, I told her. Derek destroyed you. I just held up a mirror. She left and slammed my apartment door on her way out.
Two weeks after the lakehouse, the attorneys finally reached a settlement. Joel called with the terms. Derek drops his lawsuit, you drop your countersuit, he said. Derek pays eight thousand for the guitar across twelve monthly installments. He and Clare sign an affidavit admitting Derek influenced Tyler’s actions. Tyler writes you an unscripted letter of his own. Two year mutual no contact order between all parties. And the car, I asked. No admission of guilt, he said. No criminal charges filed. Take it, I told him. The papers were signed within forty eight hours.
Ten days later, a handwritten letter arrived in a child’s handwriting. Uncle Marcus, it read. I broke your guitar because Derek said it was fake. I didn’t know it was real until it broke. Mom says we might move because Derek’s car sank. Derek says it’s your fault. Mom says it’s my fault. I don’t know who’s right. I’m sorry I broke it. I wish I didn’t. Tyler. No love before his name this time, just his signature. I read it three times. Tyler was finally being honest, no script, no coaching, just a kid caught in the middle of adults blaming each other. I didn’t write back, since the settlement specified no contact, but I kept the letter, taping it to my studio wall as a reminder that Tyler might still turn out okay someday.
